The Thrill of the Chase
By Visage
I had such a wonderful reception with my first story in this fandom that I just couldn't help but flesh out this idea that came as I was drifting off. Bare with me as I exercise some extremely creative license. No infringement is intended.
***
Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo filled his lungs with air, savoring the stretch in his ribcage. He closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment to focus. He could smell the thrill of the chase in the air, taste the victory, and feel the pleasure.
Ice water ran through his veins, congealing in his stomach. He shook his head to clear his mind. Now was not the time to let fear get the best of him. He slipped behind the corner, stealth, cunning and instinct on his side.
He crept along the wall, willing his body to become invisible. If he was to capture his target, they couldn't know how close he was. He felt a thin bead of sweat form, threatening to trickle down his face. He didn't dare reach his sleeve up to wipe it away for fear of being noticed.
This was why he became a cop, the thrill he felt when he was on the trail. The adrenaline that screamed through his body was fueling his very being at that moment. He could feel his heart beating in his chest, making him aware of blood rushing to every inch of his body. If he was caught- No. He didn't want to think about it.
In that very moment it didn't matter what he had been told he would amount to. It didn't matter what was expected of him in the future. The only object was reaching his goal.
He crouched down lower, using his surroundings and the dim lighting to his advantage. His left ear caught a rustle. Instantly he stopped. Without daring to move a muscle he looked around with his peripheral vision. He was so close; to be caught now would be heartbreaking. He released the breath he didn't know he was holding. He was in the clear.
With another deep breath Tony inched forward, within arm's reach of his goal. He pushed the gloating pride to the back of his mind. Easier cases had been lost by carelessness in this stage of the game.
His fingers brushed his intention, teasing his senses. He reached forward, pressure pulling on his shoulder. His dismissed the discomfort, focusing on his prize. With one last push he felt the rush of his hand grasping in triumph.
Tony dashed back to his desk, a slice of McGee's pizza half devoured. He couldn't help but chew noisily, even though none of his partners were there to annoy with his eating habits. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply again, savoring the small victory.
Victory tasted an awful lot like pepperoni, sausage, and extra cheese.