Disclaimer: Don't own NCIS. If I did though, Season 4 would've ended with Tony's car blowing up. Not that 'Professor DiNardo' wasn't awesome, but the car bomb would've been way more intense. Also, Tony's final contribution to Season 7 would have ended with hands pulling him off screen, with no mention of Mike Franks still being alive. Would have been a way more intriguing summer. Anyway, back to the story.
A shooting pain brought Tony back to consciousness. He opened his eyes to discover it was morning. He slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, his head throbbing. He squinted at his watch. Past nine. Gibbs was going to kill him.
He took a quick mental inventory of himself. His stomach ached and his face stung. He felt his cheekbone-yep, that was definitely gonna bruise. He probed the back of his head, his fingers coming away caked with blood. He must have hit his head on the ground after being injected. Speaking of which, that was some strong stuff they'd given him since it knocked him out for this long. Hopefully that was all out of his system…
Tony looked around to see his badge and gun, along with Palmer's ME license on the ground. He wasn't sure why—maybe it was his inner investigator—but he took out his phone and took pictures of their position before he picked them up.
Now, on to more pressing matters. What was that damn file number? Something 007. He pushed himself to his feet, a smile lighting up his face. The file was strewn over the ground by the driver's side of the car. It was his lucky day. As he carefully bent down and collected it, he considered the problem this good fortune also posed: how he was going to get this back into Records and get the real file? Without telling Gibbs? And in 24 hours. That was almost a super-human job. So…where was Clark Kent when you needed him?
And then there was the matter of fooling Gibbs: He couldn't not go to work. Gibbs would find out and suspect something was up. He got into Palmer's car, finding the keys still in ignition, giving himself an once-over in the rear view mirror. He had a split lip and a large bruise forming on his cheek. Even in his own mind, he looked terrible, a rare state for Anthony DiNozzo. He'd stop home, get cleaned up as quickly as possible, and go into work. Maybe it'd be a slow day and he could sneak away to get Abby or McGee's help in finding the right file. But a more immediate issue arose: What was he going to tell Gibbs?
"Where the hell is DiNozzo?" Gibbs came marching into the squad room.
Ziva and McGee gave each other confused looks.
"Why would we know? It's Tony. He probably bought his barista a coffee and lost track of the time." McGee replied.
"His planner is empty," Ziva remarked guiltily from across the room.
"Somebody call him. We got a case."
The elevator dinged and a cleaned-up Tony ran in. "Here boss."
"You're late, DiNozzo." Tony opened his mouth to protest. "No time. We got a dead marine. Gas up the truck."
"On it boss." As Tony turned to walk back to the elevator, Gibbs saw the facial bruising and split lip.
"DiNozzo, what the hell happened?"
Tony paused, trying to justify lying to Gibbs. "Muggers broke into my landlord's room. I tried to help her. There were more than I thought. One clocked me and they got away."
"Anything missing?" Gibbs inquired.
"No. They were just getting started when I barged in."
"You report it?"
"Yeah. Metro's working on it. I know how you feel about apologies, so I'll just say it won't happen again."
Gibbs knew Tony was lying, but temporarily decided to let it play out.
"You have someone look at that?" Gibbs replied, motioning to Tony's face, knowing full well the answer would be 'no'. He wasn't disappointed.
"I was trying to get back—" Tony faltered momentarily under Gibbs' glare.
"Go have Ducky look you over. Meet us at the crime scene," Gibbs scrawled an address on a Post-It and handed it to Tony, "when you're done."
Tony could have jumped for joy. Trying to keep his face black, he replied, "Will do boss."
"Ziva, McGee, gear up. Ziva, you drive." The look on McGee's face was priceless.
"You have a barf bag handy, McQueasy?" Despite the dire situation, Tony couldn't help teasing McGee as he headed down to autopsy.
Ducky looked up as the Autopsy door slid open.
"Anthony. Gibbs was looking for you."
"Yeah, he sent me down here. I got into," he paused, deciding on the right words, "an altercation with a suspect," he said, pointing to his face. "Gibbs wanted you to look it over, but," he saw the body "if you're too busy…"
"No, no, sit down. Let's take a look at you. By the way, you haven't seen Mr. Palmer have you? Ever since he stopped seeing Agent Lee, his tardiness is rather unusual."
Tony hissed as Ducky palpated the bruise on his cheek.
"Is that all?" Ducky asked, knowing it was in Tony's nature to hide his greater injuries while complaining loudly about the smaller ones. Tony hesitated. "Don't make me call Gibbs," Ducky threatened.
"I may have hit my head," Tony finally confessed, deciding this battle with Ducky was definitely not worth it.
Ducky cleaned up the back of his head and examined Tony's pupils before declaring, "No concussion and nothing appears to be broken. Take ibuprofen if your head or face begins to hurt and you could ice it to keep down the swelling." His suggestion fell on deaf ears. Ducky knew Tony wouldn't take any pain killers since they had a rather adverse effect on his personality and concentration. Oh well, it didn't hurt to continue to offer his advice.
Tony jumped off the table a bit too quickly. He winced as his stomach resisted the rapid movement.
Ducky noticed the wince. "Anthony," he cautioned.
"Just a punch to the gut, Duck. Really, I'm fine. I'll tell Palmer you're looking for him if I see him. Thanks." He scurried out of autopsy.
"That's Doctor Mallard to you, my friend." Ducky shook his head disapprovingly at Tony's retreating form before returning to his patient. "I don't suppose you'll tell me how you met your demise…"
The elevator opened at Abby's lab. Tony hesitated in the doorway, not wanting to get her involved, but it was the best way to find the file's location.
"Tony!" Abby cried. "What are you doing down—What happened to your face? Are you okay?" she rambled.
"Just a run-in with a suspect. Can you keep a secret, like you did for the Domino op?"
Abby immediately turned serious. "Why?" she asked suspiciously.
"Just pinky swear you will," Tony replied, knowing that Abby considered breaking this type of promise sinful. He held out his pinky finger.
Abby thought for a moment, sighed and held her pinky out as well. They shook.
"Abby, I need your help."
"Sure Tony. What is it?"
He handed her the file. "I need to know where this file—with another zero on the end—can be found."
"Tony, what's going on? This is from Records. You shouldn't have this."
"Please, Abs. It's important."
She sighed deeply and went back to the computer.
"No Abs, it ends in 'double-oh-seven' not seventy," he corrected.
She glared at him. "Why didn't you say so in the first place?"
Tony opened his mouth to reply and was cut off by the ding of the computer.
"Whatcha got Abby?" he asked as Abby turned around grimly.
"Tony. The file you want isn't ours. It's top-level clearance CIA."
"Abby, you pinky promised not to tell Gibbs. Just don't okay?" he said, as she tried to argue. "It's not only about me. There's more than my ass riding on this one."
"Tony! What's all this about?" Abby was starting to get worried.
He put his hands on her shoulders. "Abs, I can't tell you right now," he said seriously, "but it involves more than just me, so you can't get involved. But you can help me with one more thing."
Abby looked reluctant and doubtful.
"Can you get me Trent Kort's phone number?"
Next chapter will be up soon. Thanks to all who Story Alerted or Reviewed! :)
