Thank you so much for the response to the last chapter!
I'm sorry I didn't get this out sooner but I needed to do some planning (and still have to do some planning) so the chapter took a while. I'm hoping it won't be as long for the next chapter, but I'm not going to promise a timeline (I do have it half written though so keep your fingers crossed that I'll find the time to finish it sooner rather than later). This is a WIP and I just don't know when I'm going to be able to write for pleasure. I'm doing an honours course and it's a LOT of work so just bare with me. I love this story and I will finish it so please be patient.
Any constructive criticism would be wonderful if you have any, and if anyone can guess where this is going then I'd love to hear about it.
I hope you enjoy.
WARNING: Racial slurs and racism in this chapter. I don't agree with racism in any sense. None of this is meant to offend (the fact that it's used by the bad guy should say something)
Conversation in the bank was nonexistent at the moment except for the occasional words of comfort between hostages and the few whispered words between the men with guns. Harry had offered a few words to the woman he'd handcuffed to the chair, including his name, and learning her name in return. He'd also learned she was a federal agent, though he could have figured that one out himself, before she'd fallen silent and stared at her partner. Agent David wasn't a person who participates in small talk, apparently.
Harry glanced at the man on the ground, obviously Agent David's partner, though he didn't know the man's name. The knock was a hard one, and the man would probably have a headache once he woke, but he wasn't in any danger at the moment. A mild concussion at most. He was lucky.
The phone started ringing again. It had been ringing on and off for almost five minutes now. The sound was grating on Harry's last nerves and he wanted to stand up and answer the damned phone himself even if he was shot for it.
The man glanced over at Harry and must have seen something in his expression because he stepped forward, dragging the girl with him.
"Everyone is going to sit quietly and listen to my instructions. Don't even try to be a hero. I promise you won't achieve anything except a fellow hostage's death, starting with her."
He was still clutching the child's arm and he shook her at the end of his spiel. The girl flinched and sobbed, whether it was the shake or the man's words Harry didn't know, but he wished the man would just let her go to her mother.
Harry glared at the man, knowing exactly where the spiel was directed, though the man never singled him out. It wasn't hard to see that Harry wasn't as scared as everyone else in the bank and that made him a threat to the men with the guns. He'd need to lay low at least for a while; lower his head and play victim.
"Harris—"
"Shut it, Agent David. I don't want to hear your polluted words anymore."
Polluted, Harry thought, glancing back to look at Agent David to see her clutching a necklace around her neck. A Star of David if he remembered correctly from primary school. There'd been a boy there who wore a similar necklace. He'd once been Dudley's friend, but once Vernon and Petunia found out what religion the boy's family had practised, they'd told Dudley the boy was another freak. He quickly became another one of Dudley's target, second favourite and just behind Harry himself. Harry couldn't even remember the poor boy's religion, he just knew it wasn't Christian and therefore it was wrong according to the Dursleys.
Is this some kind of religion or race discrimination? Harry thought, immediately clenching his hands into fists, though making sure to keep his anger hidden from the men.
A low groan diverted his attention from the Agent David and towards the other agent. He seemed to be waking up, and from the wrinkles on his forehead and the sounds he was making, Harry wasn't far off on the headache assumption.
McGee wasn't sure where to look. There wasn't much to do yet; they were calling the bank but no one inside was picking up. He couldn't help but worry about what that might mean for his partners.
He'd seen Tony being dragged away and handcuffed, which was good, in a way. If Tony was dead they wouldn't bother with the handcuffs. On the other hand, Tony was unconscious and probably concussed. Ziva was handcuffed to the chair as well unable to move and the bank was full of hostages.
On the other hand, Gibbs had lost in a staring (glaring) contest with a twenty year old, red-haired, firecracker of a woman. Gibbs in completely papa bear pissed off mode, lost. That wasn't something McGee had ever seen before, and Tony probably hadn't either.
Tim frowned again when he thought about his partner.
"McGee!"
"Yes, Boss?"
Instead of giving a verbal command, Gibbs nodded his head towards the woman. Information gathering.
Heading towards the woman, McGee could admit to himself he felt a little fear settle in his stomach. If he didn't work for Gibbs, the woman's glare would be the scariest one he'd ever seen, even over Abby's.
"Ma'am?"
"I told you, my name is Ginny."
McGee stumbled over using the woman's first name but didn't offer a second name, so he continued.
"G-Ginny, then. How are you?"
She didn't even bother to answer that question, instead turning that glare on him once again.
"Sorry. I have a few questions if you're up for it."
Ginny blinked and looked down, wringing her hands together before glancing up at the bank again and staring for a moment, Tim assumed she was looking for her husband. She only turned back to look at Tim when she was satisfied with what she found. "What type of questions?"
Tim looked down at the pad before looking at her again. Some of his wariness disappeared at the look he was receiving. It was filled with fear and a desperate desire to help. Tim had no doubt that if Ginny had the choice; she'd be sitting right beside her husband in that bank instead of out here without him.
"Your husband's full name and yours for a start. It always good to know who the hostages are in situations like this.
"Ginny Potter née Weasley. My husband's name is Harry Potter."
Something sharpened in her eyes as she said her husband's name like she was expecting a reaction. Tim jotted down the names, along with his observation.
"And you're from England?"
Ginny smiled and nodded. "We live just outside of London at the moment, but we plan to move further into the country once we get back."
"That sounds lovely." It really did. Tim loved the countryside, and he'd heard England was particularly impressive.
"That's if we get back at all."
Tim leaned forward, and with only a moment's hesitation, laid his hand on her's. "We are doing our very best to get him out alive. I promise we will do everything in our power. I. . . my partners are in there as well. Agent DiNozzo and David. I'm just as desperate to get them back as you are to get your husband back."
Ginny looked away from Tim, but a small smile flickered onto her face for a moment. "Thank you, Agent McGee," she said, squeezing his hand, "but I'm not worried about my husband getting out alive, I'm worried about the repercussions."
Tim wanted to question her on her words, but at that moment Fornell behind him sat up straight and Gibbs moved forward.
"They've answered."
Tony hated waking up with a headache. The hung-over headaches were usually worse, especially the ones after talking to his dad, but a concussion headache was a close second. He shifted around on the floor, only to be pulled short by the movement, or lack of movement, of his hands.
His eyes flew wide open at the realisation that he had handcuffs around his wrists, but he regretted the moment almost instantly.
"Too bright," he muttered, rolling his head away from the lights of the bank.
"Tony?"
At Ziva's voice, Tony risked opening his eyes again, this time a little slower. He saw Ziva sitting next to him, her hands also handcuffed to a chair and a man sitting next to her, staring at him with concern.
"I know you," he muttered, staring at the man he was sure he'd seen before.
The man's eyes widened for a single second before he let a smirk appear. "You apologised to me for your partner bumping into me."
Tony smirked back. "Right. Ziva, you should apologise to the man."
Ziva glared. "You are obviously fine," she snapped without saying any apology.
The man, Tony really needed to learn his name, smiled. "I think she's a little sore about the fact that I handcuffed her."
Before Tony could make a single innuendo, because really that was just asking for it, Ziva turned her glare on the man.
"I told you that was not your fault."
The man shrugged and glanced to the side before lowering his head a second before a gun appeared next to the man's temple.
"What is with all the whispering over here?"
Tony stiffened and looked up at the man holding the gun. Harrison looked way too calm for, what Tony assumed, was a desperate act to get away with murder.
"We are not whispering," Ziva said, but her words only angered Harrison.
"What did I say, Agent David." Harrison pushed the gun further into the man's temple, forcing his head lower and his neck to bend at an awkward angle.
Ziva didn't say anything then, though he saw her hand move up to clench her Star of David. Unfortunately, he didn't have time to puzzle out what was happening. He needed to get that gun away from the man before Harrison lost it and shot him.
"Woah, buddy, slow down a sec." Tony inserted as much arrogant 'class clown' jock into his voice. This tone of voice always pissed McGee off just enough to throw a paper ball back at him but not enough to throw a punch. He hoped it worked the same here.
"Agent DiNozzo. I thought I'd knocked you out for good if you know what I mean." Harrison smirked and the calm arrogance that infected the man's voice made Tony edgy, but he did move the gun a little further away from the man. Progress.
"Why'd you handcuff me then if you thought I was a goner?"
"Precaution. I've been taught a lot these last few months and one of those lessons was to always prepare for the worse."
"Taught?" Tony felt like he was trying to tie his shoe with no shoelaces.
The man laughed, finally pulling his gun away from the man. "You didn't think I was working alone, did you?" The man moved a step back and looked over his shoulder at someone Tony couldn't see. "No more whispering," he said before sauntering off.
Tony waited until he was a decent distance away before turning to the man. "You okay?"
The man was rubbing his neck but he smiled at Tony. "There's no bullet in my head, so I'm fine."
"Good. Now, what the hell is going on?"
The man shrugged and Ziva lowered her eyes. "I wish I knew."
Agent Tony DiNozzo's awakening achieved at least one thing; the man let the girl he'd been holding go back to her mother. Of course, it also achieved a sore neck for Harry and another order of silence. Not that Agent DiNozzo listened to the order, but Harry felt like he didn't listen to many orders, even from the good guys.
With Agent David, in short and quiet words, explained to Agent DiNozzo what had been going on, Harry glanced around at the other hostages. At the bank door was the security man still handcuffed and looking more uncomfortable by the minute. Next to him was the woman who handcuffed him there. She was huddled close to him and occasionally ran her hands over his shoulders where the muscles were surly straining by now. She was of the older generation, probably early sixties, and her hand shook when she moved. They hadn't seemed to know each other before today, but situations like this were sure to bring people together.
There was the mother and child, both sobbing all over each other by now, though they kept their tears as silent as possible. They were closest to the men with guns, but none of them seemed all that concerned by the small family.
There were next to a short stocky man with a beer belly and no hair left on his head. He was wearing a shabby suit and there was an odd flicker of his eyes, like a glitch on a TV or something. It was like he couldn't focus his eyes properly. He was mouthing words that Harry recognised from his aunt's church groups.
On the other side of the bank, there was a man about Harry's age with a teenage boy about eighteen years old, maybe a brother. They were huddled close together, just shy of actually hugging. Harry wondered why they weren't just hugging, they looked like brothers and it wasn't like anyone was going to condemn them for seeking a little comfort.
There were two tellers sitting next to each other just in front of the counter. They'd been pulled out from behind by a couple of the big men just after Agent Ziva had been handcuffed. They were both young men and one was crying while the other one shook like a leaf. The shaking one was playing with a ring on his finger, and Harry realised it was an engagement ring.
Finally, there was a middle-aged man, late forties if Harry was to guess. The man was clean cut and dressed like a lawyer or successful businessman. He'd barely moved since the initial scramble and didn't look up from the ground. What Harry could see of the man reminded him painfully of Sirius and he turned away before he burst into tears at the resemblance.
Harry was pulled from his thoughts by the ringing of the phone. Trying to block out the sound didn't work, so Harry looked up to see if they would finally answer the damn thing, only to see one of the unidentified men moved forward.
"Have we waited long enough? Harris-something, who Harry was starting to think was just a lackey to a bigger plan, said.
The man didn't verbally respond, rather just nodded and motioned his gun towards the phone, indicating that Harrison should answer it. "Speakerphone," the man said a moment before Harrison picked it up, his German accent heavy and thick.
Harrison didn't seem all that surprised by the request, only nodding his head and answering the phone, immediately putting it on speaker.
"Who's there?"
Harrison's harsh voice was so different from the calm man that had been around since the beginning that Harry jumped a little in surprise. Glancing to the side, Harry saw Agent David's eyes narrowed to slits and Agent DiNozzo leaned forward almost subconsciously.
Harrison was also looking in their direction and smirked with a little too much smug satisfaction for Harry's liking. If Harry hadn't already wanted to murder the man before, he did now. That smirk was too reminiscent of Malfoy when Buckbeak was sentenced to death.
"It's Agent Fornell of the FBI. We just want to talk."
"Talk!" Harrison slammed his hands down on the counter and every person in the bank, other than Harry and the agents, jumped a little. "No way do you just want to talk! You want to arrest me! I didn't do anything!"
"I'm telling the truth, Keith."
"Don't call me Keith." Harrison's voice became low when he demanded that, almost like a growl. It was the first sign of real anger that Harry had seen from the man.
"Okay, I won't call you Keith. What can I call you instead?"
"Nothing. You don't get the right to call me anything." This was said in the same low register. It was almost like the man had forgotten all about what was happening around him. That is until one of the other muscle men nudged Harrison with his rifle, causing Harrison to jump before lowering his head in a brief apology.
"Look, FBI man. I don't believe you are telling the truth. I have two agents in here that were coming to arrest me, and the Jew-bag you sent in looked like she would be more than happy to kill me. Still does. Maybe I should kill her first, hm."
Agent DiNozzo clenched his hands into fists and looked like he would lose his composure when the man insulted Agent David and threatened to kill her, and Harry had to admit he wasn't far off. Agent David, though, smirked just a little. She placed a hand on Agent DiNozzo's leg and shook her head, her eyes sparkling just a little. Something passed between them and Agent DiNozzo was once again the cool calm agent he'd been before. Harry wished he could understand that look so he'd as easily calm down.
"There's no need to kill anyone."
"I'm not going to listen to some other federal agent who just wants to arrest me when I've done nothing wrong."
"NCIS wants to arrest you, not the FBI. We can help you."
"Don't lie! I'm done talking." Harrison slammed the phone back into its holder and turned around. He lifted his gun up to face Harry and the agents, his calm, smug posture giving Harry the creeps just before the man pulled the trigger.
(w.c 2,837)
WolfWinks –xx-
