Chapter 2
Not again, not again, not again.
That was the only thing Tony could think about as he watched the man he loved like a father hit the ground as more bullets flew past him. "Down!" he somehow managed to scream as he himself dropped to the concrete, his eyes glued to Gibbs' unmoving form. A flash of pain flared in his left upper arm, breaking his frozen state of mind. It was just a graze, but enough for him to remember that with Gibbs down, he was the one responsible now and he had a team to watch over. A team that was under fire. He tore his gaze away from Gibbs to look for his probies. Thank God, they had managed to duck behind the evidence truck, both seemingly unhurt. Two good, two to go. Twisting his head around he looked for the MEs. Ducky had had the good sense to seek cover behind his truck. Jimmy, though, was still cowering in the open, seemingly frozen with shock.
"Damn it, Palmer," Tony hissed, scrambling to his feet and tackling the young assistant down, rolling with him behind the ME's truck as well.
"Dear God, are you two all right? Mr Palmer, Anthony?" Ducky breathed. His face was pale, but Tony could see that his eyes were focused and he seemed like a pool of calm. It helped to quieten his own racing heart somewhat. He nodded, catching his breath, thinking furiously. The trucks only provided a lousy bit of cover. One lucky shot and they were all toast. Still better than nothing but they had to get out of here. What to do? How could he get all of them safely away, without more of them getting hurt? Or worse? His eyes strayed back to Gibbs, still lying out there, blood pooling under him. An ache started in his heart and his breath hitched.
Not again.
He had no idea if Gibbs was still alive, but that was what he was going to go with. He had to. It was the only way that he could function right now and he had to function. His team needed him. Besides, this was Gibbs. A couple of bullets wouldn't bring down Leroy Jethro Gibbs! So his boss was still alive.
Out in the open, without any cover at all.
Tony blanched and acted without thinking. "Ziva, McGee, cover me!" he bellowed. Not waiting for them to respond, he jumped back to his feet, running forward in a low crouch. He thought he heard Ziva yelling his name, but ignored it. No man left behind. He may never have been a Marine, but Gibbs had made sure that he still lived by that code of integrity. Reaching Gibbs, he didn't take the time to check for a pulse, though every fiber in him screamed to reassure himself that his boss was still alive. Instead, he grabbed him under the armpits and pulled, praying he wasn't making anything worse. He was only dimly aware of the gunfire echoing through the old dock. They made it back to the little cover the ME's truck provided and most importantly, to where Ducky was already waiting for them. Hopefully he could save Gibbs.
Moving out of the way, Tony watched as Ducky felt for a pulse, breathing hard. Only part of it had to do with his exertions of a moment ago.
Gibbs had to be all right. Well, maybe not all right, obviously he wasn't okay, but he couldn't be dead. He just couldn't. The team needed him. Abby needed him.
He needed him. So much. And he couldn't have another death on his watch. First Kate, then Paula, then Jenny. Not Gibbs too. Just - not.
"He has a pulse," Ducky said, most likely the most beautiful thing Tony had ever heard out of the Scotsman's mouth. He closed his eyes and let his heart come down to a normal beat. "Two gunshot wounds. One to the right shoulder, a through and through, one in his upper left chest. Mr Palmer, please staunch the flow of blood from the shoulder while I am taking care of the other wound. Anthony?" Opening his eyes, Tony met Ducky's very serious and worried glance. "He needs a hospital. At once."
Right. Of course. Damn, he should have thought about this sooner. He needed to get the others out of this death trap. But how? 'Calm down, DiNozzo. Get your head straight,' he told himself, imagining Gibbs' voice telling him. He frowned. Not quite right. He banged his head against the truck. There, now that was better. He took a deep breath and looked over to his teammates. "Did you call this in?" McGee nodded. Good, at least someone was thinking with his head on straight. "ETA?"
Tim avoided his eyes. "Ten, fifteen minutes."
Shit. That was too long. Gibbs didn't have that much time. He nodded. "How many, Ziva?" She was their little ninja assassin. He trusted her to know exactly how many enemies were out there and where. He had already deduced himself that there was more than one, other than that he had had other things to think about first. She didn't disappoint. "At least three, maybe four. Two by the warehouse, one or two by the bridge."
Tony peeked his head around the truck to gauge their possibilities. A bullet whizzed by. Fuck. So much for his slight hope that those assholes had packed up and run away. Why hadn't they? They had the perfect chance to high-tail it out of here, unbothered by the Feds who were too busy trying to take care of their wounded.
Unless they wanted to make sure that none of them left this godforsaken place alive.
Tony clenched his jaw, the grip on his gun tightening. Not on his watch. Turning back, he crawled over to Gibbs. "Sorry, I just need ..." His hands slid inside the jacket, trying to ignore the big bloodstains. His fingers found Gibbs' gun and he pulled it out. Next he went for the extra clips on his belt, the back-up weapon at his right ankle and the knife at his left. Swallowing, he crept back to the corner of the truck closest to McGee and Ziva, trying not to think about the amount of blood Gibbs had already lost. He knew he couldn't afford to dwell on it now, but that was easier said than done. So perhaps, he'd better put the thought to good use. Gibbs couldn't afford to lose much more blood, hence he had to get his ass in gear. "McGee, get over here. I'll cover you." He waited just long enough to see Tim nod, albeit a bit shakily. He stood up to provide cover while McGee ran across the few feet between the two trucks.
With a sigh of relief he pulled back. Briefly, he slapped the younger man on the back before he bent down to get Gibbs' service weapon and extra clips from the ground to shove them against McGee's chest. "You stay here, provide cover for me and Ziva and protect Ducky, Jimmy and Gibbs. Got it?"
Tim glanced at his fallen leader and the two men trying to save him and visibly gulped. But at the same time, his back straightened and he gave a brief nod. "Yeah, got it."
"Good." Tony looked him straight into the eyes, trying to see if he was up to this. "As soon as the enemy fire ceases, you get them to the hospital. Don't leave them alone, don't pay any attention to Ziva and me." It was the hardest thing to ask for, he knew that, but they needed someone who stayed back. Someone to protect the civilians and the fallen, insuring their survival.
Tim had been on the team long enough to know this as well. "Yes, boss," he replied quietly, gripping his own weapon and Gibbs' firmly.
With a nod and another slap to Tim's back he turned to Ziva. He threw Gibbs' backup piece and the knife over to her. "You take the warehouse. Try not to get killed." Their eyes locked, saying a lot neither of them was probably ever going to say out loud. And a silent farewell. Then they simultaneously turned away from each other, moving to the other corners of the trucks. It was a huge risk they were going to take, but Tony saw no other way. Taking a deep breath, he checked his gun once more before yelling "Now!" to McGee. He waited three seconds after McGee fired the first shot before he ran, heading for the bridge.
Miraculously, he managed to reach it without getting hit, despite bullets raining constantly. Either those guys were lousy shooters or McGee really kept them busy. The way those first two shots had hit the boss, he counted on the latter. Stopping by one of the pillars in order to catch his breath, he looked back. The foot of the bridge was situated a couple of hundred feet higher than the dock and he had an excellent view of the deserted area. His heart relaxed a bit when he saw that Ziva was not lying somewhere between the trucks and the warehouse. So far so good. He'd have to remember to thank McGee, once this was over. Maybe suggest a commendation for his file to Gibbs and Vance.
Gibbs.
Both trucks were still there, meaning he was losing precious time here. Forcing his breath into a quiet, regular rhythm, he carefully proceeded around the pillar on the far side, moving further upwards towards the street where he guessed the third shooter was laying in wait, the bastard. Now that both he and Ziva had reached the shooters' hideouts and McGee had retreated back behind the trucks, it was once again eerily quiet, only the sound of the traffic and the water sloshing against the quay underlying this quietness. One single shot shattered it briefly, coming from the warehouse. 'Atta, girl,' Tony thought, allowing himself a small smile. He had no doubts whatsoever that Ziva had just taken out one of their enemies.
From ahead of him, a rapid series of shots was fired. Glancing back, he just caught a flash of an NCIS jacket disappearing behind the ME's truck. His eyes narrowed as he moved faster towards where the shots had come from. Screw caution. Gibbs' time was running out.
Another single shot sounded from over at the warehouse. Followed by a curse from ahead of him. "I can't reach Geri or Paul, Tom." The voice that spoke was calm, without accent and definitely male.
Same with the one that responded. "Then they're down. We should regroup." So there were two of them after all. Not that it mattered. But good to know.
"What about the orders to let no-one leave alive?"
Tony held his breath, creeping forward, reaching the pillar from behind which he could hear the voices. He wasn't far from them anymore. "I take out the trucks, that should take care of them. Should have done it sooner. Destroys the evidence too. John, watch out for the tall one. He must be here somewhere. Then we'll go take care of that bitch."
He didn't think so. Bracing himself, he stepped around the corner, his gun ready. "NCIS, freeze, lay down your weapons!" The barrel of his gun pointed directly into a man's face. John, he guessed. He only had time to register an average height, blond hair, green eyes and a flash of light shining off metal, as the other man of course didn't listen and brought up his gun. Tony fired. John fell away, giving a clear sight of the second man. For one moment, their eyes locked. "It's over, pal," Tony said, not letting his voice quiver on even one syllable, his finger on the trigger.
His opponent, Tom, smiled. Just long enough for Tony to memorize his looks. Black, short hair, piercing, cold blue eyes, dark features, skin with a deep tan. And a smirk that spoke of a self-confidence that left Tony uneasy. Cocky – even with a gun pointed at his head. Their hearts beat just once more. Then Tom ran. One second he was standing there at ease, the other he was gone, making Tony blink. With a curse, he set after the cocky bastard, heading for the street. He was fast. Then again, so was Tony. He had almost closed in on him when they reached the road. Jumping behind the fence, Tom turned around and fired at him. Tony dropped to the ground. There was not much else he could do, other than to try to take him out from down on the floor. Wouldn't be the first time. Of course, the last time the other guy was a junkie, not a clearly well trained fighter and shooter. He caught another flash of that damn grin before he grew aware that Tom's gun was pointed at his head now. Shit! He rolled away, just as a bullet hit the dirt where seconds before, his head had been. His heart racing, he took another roll, waiting. But there were no flashes of pain, no darkness. Instead, he heard a few angry car horns blaring. He looked back to the fence. Sure enough, Tom was gone. Scrambling to his feet, he raced to the street.
No sign of Tom. Probably he'd crossed the street and was running towards God knew where. Breathing heavily, Tony contemplated going after him anyway. He hated letting that smug bastard get away, it didn't feel right. Abby would have to prove it yet, but he was pretty sure this was the asshole that had taken out Gibbs. But he had two new crime scenes to process, some new bodies to retrieve, to check that Gibbs was by now on the way to the hospital, and to find out the fate of his teammates. All that against the slight chance that he might still catch up to Tom.
With a shake of his head he turned around and headed back towards the dock at a jog. Still, he vowed that he was going to catch that damn cocky bastard, and if it was the last thing he did.
TBC
Author's Note: So, a little bit of action for you. I hope you liked it. Thank you all who reviewed the last chapter. Loved it! Please let me know what you thought of this one as well. The more I get, the faster I write the next chapter.
