A Reality Most Precious Chapter 6, a ncis fanfic

"Where is McGee?"

Almost as if she'd activated them with her question, the lights go out the moment Ziva's question rings out though the air.

"Oh, God!" Jimmy frets in a voice that's too tremulous and uneven to hide his fear. Who can blame him? He's never had to deal with this kind of situation before like Tony and Ziva have. It's been years since that wacko murder had set his trigger happy cross-hairs on the poor Autopsy Gremlin. Since then, things have been so normal for the guy that this has to be seriously screwing with his mind.

Tony's quick to realize this and to offer support to him first because of it. "Easy, Gremlin. Just relax. Slow and steady. Breathe in, breathe out. Alright?"

"Yeah. Okay." Jimmy replies with a residual hesitation and shakiness. "Thanks, Tony, It's just really unsettling to be in such darkness while trussed up like this; not knowing what's coming next, you know?"

"Just. Stay. Calm. It's the only way to get through it." Tony takes his own deep breath and slowly lets it out before he turns his focus where it next needs to go. "Ducky, you alright?"

"Yes, Anthony. I am quite alright. Thank you." Ducky's even, measured tone lends a touch of downplaying to it, but no blatant dishonesty, since the man is well known for having no tolerance for such.

If he'd not been alright, he'd have found some way to express it without scaring the others or worrying them. Wouldn't he? Tony wonders, even while the older man continues to speak, as if determined to refocus their attention.

"You are correct; we must remain calm and continue to think clearly despite this inky darkness. Now, let us get back to Ziva's question, shall we? The last I saw of Timothy was when the poor lad was rushing to the lavoratory, sickened to his stomach. Strangely enough, the only thing on the table at the time, was his glass of water"

"Okay. But when he was done tossing his cookies he should have asked the waitress where you and Jimmy had gone to... where did you go?" Tony managed to refocus his mind enough to actively pursue the discussion and glean from it what he can. "What happened?"

"Sadly, I must admit, we were duped into rushing out to supposedly aide someone in need of medical attention. Mr. Palmer tried to warn me that perhaps it was a trap, but the hoodlum luring us, was quite insistent, once we'd begun following his lead." Ducky relays. "I truly am sorry; I did not listen to you, Mr. Palmer. I do hope you can forgive me some day."

"Consider it done, Doctor Mallard." Jimmy replies quietly. "There's no way I can blame you for this."

"Ziva?" Tony calls out. "Awfully quiet over there. You alright?"

"Yes, Tony. I am fine." Ziva answers without hesitation. There's no way she's going to admit that for once in her life, because Ducky and Jimmy have been taken alongside her and Tony who are trained federal agents who've been in spots like this before, she's not only worried but very frightened for them as well. The fact that they've been taken as a group like this, does not bode well for their future. With sheer determination, she keeps her voice calm and focuses on digging for more information in hopes of getting to the bottom of this. "Ducky. The waitress said you told her to let your friends know where you and Jimmy had gone. We thought that meant McGee was with you."

"I'm afraid not. In fact, I believe that had he been, he probably would have been able to think more clearly with his training than I did. As a medical professional, I do tend to rush to aide first and ask questions later." Ducky replies with remarkable calmness.

"Not if he was busy hurling, Ducky. You know how McGee gets when he's physically incapacitated like that. He gets all wimpy and whiney and we never hear the end of it." Tony replies with a touch of anger. "He should have at least checked on where you two had gone off too when he was done hiding out in the bathroom. He knew Ziva and I were on our way. There's no reason he shouldn't have been with you or at least called us!"

"Tony. It will do us no good to be angry at McGee now. We do not even know if he was, as you say, done feeling ill. Perhaps he was still in the restroom when we arrived. Regardless, I am sure he will quickly alert Gibbs as to our disappearance. In fact that will probably be even more helpful to us because he was not present when we all ran into this 'trap'."

"Yeah, maybe." Tony's reluctant to pin too much hope on that possibility or let them do it either. "Still say, this wouldn't a happened if he'd...

"Tony, we must concentrate on our current predicament and think of any possible way out of this" Ziva insists firmly without raising her voice.

"You and I already checked, remember? There isn't one." The Senior Field Agent reminds her with abject disappointment in his tone.

"Alright. Then let us try to determine who is behind this and why." She requests with obvious intentions of keeping them focused on this as if it were a case they were working.

"Yeah. That's actually a pretty good idea. I mean taking you and I; I can see, but why Ducky and Jimmy?" Tony wonders out loud.

"I believe if we can understand that; we will know who is behind this." Ziva suggests.

"Yeah. Guess we should put our heads to use while we're waitin' on Gibbs to find us. God knows, Probie won't be of any help!"

"Tony!" Ziva sharply reins him in. "Focus!"

"Yes, my little ninja."

******NCIS*******

"What do you think they want with us?"

The familiar voice of Jimmy Palmer, filled with worry and fear, comes from seemingly out of nowhere - booming down from almost directly over his head. A speaker imbedded in the ceiling Tim's brain registers this fact as the sound ricochets off the walls, coming back to him with full knife point sharpness . Before he can think on that again, he hears yet another achingly familiar voice speaking and is so relieved, he can barely focus on her words - feeling his breath catch in his throat when they eventually register on his battered and weary brain

"I have a better question. Where...is McGee?"

"Oh, God!" Jimmy's abject fear tears at Tim's heart, his eyes trying to close against the emotion beginning to rise up from deep within him. He finds himself nearly choking on the lump in his throat.

"Easy, Gremlin. Just relax. Slow and steady. Breathe in, breathe out. Alright?" Tony's voice fills Tim's soul with more of that wave, mentally crashing through with anguish as it hits him that what he's hearing is the answer to his question of what happened to them - in a worst possible way. But wait, what does that mean about Ducky?

"Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Tony. It's just really unsettling to be in such darkness while trussed up like this; not knowing what's coming next, you know?"

The hesitation and shakiness in the younger man's voice hits Tim in the heart just as much as the words he's speaking. He knows Jimmy's usually safer from this kind of situation than Tim has been. Wait, did he just say trussed up...in the dark? Damn it to hell, what's going on?

"Just. Stay. Calm. It's the only way to get through it" Tony's calming voice of authority soothes Tim's inner fear as it usually does, but this time, only slightly.

"Ducky, you alright?"

Now Tim's eyes fill with tears of anguish. Oh, God! Ducky too? The others who were out to dinner with him, had somehow been taken too!

Suddenly his angst turns to anger. Who the hell are these monsters that would take an elderly man hostage? And what about Jimmy? He's not even an agent so how'd he wind up on anybody's radar enough to get taken?

Just as quickly, his thoughts turn to horror. Oh, crap! Are all of them in the same boat he's in? Obviously, they're at least without blindfolds. But what other shape are they in? And why is he where they can't see him?

"Guys! Hey, guys! I'm here, too!" He yells out desperately, needing them to hear him, even if they can't see him. He's not sure why they can't see him, but damn it, they are going to hear him and know that he...

"Yes, Anthony. I am quite alright. Thank you. You are correct; we must remain calm and continue to think clearly despite this inky darkness. Now, let us get back to Ziva's question, shall we? The last I saw of Timothy was when the poor lad was rushing to the lavoratory, sickened to his stomach. Strangely enough, the only thing on the table at the time...was his glass of water."

"Okay. But when he was done tossing his cookies he should have asked the waitress where you and Jimmy had gone to... where did you go?" Tony's insistent tone comes through loud and clear, a whiplash across Tim's heart "What happened?"

"Consider it done, Doctor Mallard. There's no way I can blame you for this." Jimmy's typical quiet tone has returned, albeit still shaky and it keeps the angst building from where Tim's sitting; at his utter lack of ability to do a damned thing to help or even get help.

"Ziva? Awfully quiet over there. You alright?"

"Yes, Tony. I am fine." "Ducky, the waitress said you told her to let your friends know where you and Jimmy had gone. We thought that meant McGee was with you."

Ziva's calmly asked question twists the knife in Tim's gut, filling his insides with tendrils of everything from fear and sorrow to fury and outrage the helplessness of it all.

Even as the conversation he's being forced to listen to continues on, his own impotence in the situation burns deep.

"Not if he was busy hurling, Ducky. You know how McGee gets when he's physically incapacitated like that. He gets all wimpy and whiney and we never hear the end of it. He should have at least checked on where you two had gone off too when he was done hiding out in the bathroom. He knew Ziva and I were on our way. There's no reason he shouldn't have been with you or at least called us!"

"Oh, Tony! You know me better than that. I would have if I'd been able to." Tim can't stop the responsive anger that slips out as he hears Ziva's response to that.

"Tony. It will do us no goo to be angry at McGee now. We do not even know if he was, as you say, done feeling ill. Perhaps he was still in the restroom when we arrived. I am sure he will quickly alert Gibbs as to our disappearance. In fact that will probably be even more helpful to us."

"Yeah, maybe." Tony's reluctance to pin too much hope on that possibility or let them do it is obvious in his tone.

"We must concentrate on our current predicament and think of any possible way out of this"

Ziva's voice of reason is a balm on Tim's invisible wounds that by now are steadily growing deeper, hampered by his sensitive soul that would never deliberately hurt anyone this way or leave them to such a predicament without doing everything in his power to help and get help.

"You and I already checked, remember? There isn't one."

"Alright. Then let us try to determine who is behind this and why."

"Yeah. That's actually a pretty good idea. I mean taking you and I; I can see, but why Ducky and Jimmy?"

"I believe if we can understand that; we will know who is behind this."

"Yeah. Guess we should put our heads to use while we're waitin' on Gibbs to find us. God knows, Probie won't be of any help!"

"Thanks, Tony." Tim replies bitterly as he swallows hard around the swelling lump in his throat. It's hard to stay angry at their reactions when picturing what they must be going through right now. Obviously, they're bound, as he is, and unable to get free. They've already ascertained that there's no way out for them. They can see each other and talk to each other without having to raise their voices, so they're close together,

Tim's having difficulty trying to fathom the reason behind such an atrocity befalling his extended family like this. What the hell is going on? Why has he been segregated so that they think he's out there free and clear and useless to them?

Again, his thoughts shift, this time to fervent prayer. Dear God, please let them all be saved! Let Gibbs find them!

*****NCIS******

Sliding the control lever all the way up on the taped conversation, Charcoal brings it to a halt, a mile-wide grin on his face. From his vantage point at the bank of video monitors, giving his visual on all of his captured targets, he's having twice as much fun as he'd thought this would be. Carefully orchestrating which pieces of the conversation going on among the group, will be spoon fed to the individual, while watching on live zoomed in video feed, the individual's response to said feeding is entertaining to say the least. And this is just the first of several planned for them all. This is his revenge on them. The other two will get theirs later, once they've joined the party. It's a moment he's looking forward to; one he's been looking forward to for a year now.

Blinking, he draws his mind back to the present. He's been waiting for the initial reactions to the first change in their situation to peter out before taking the next step in his plan. Now, the time has come for Step 3 - for the individual's plan. Funny, juggling two plans is easier and more enjoyable than he'd anticipated. Aw, the sweet smell of a fun victory! Moving another lever, he picks up the hand held microphone and begins his planned spiel - his eyes locked on his captive audience of one - hungry for the visual reaction he knows is coming, as he opens his mouth to speak.

*******NCIS******

"Good morning, Special Agent McGee! I hope you're awake by now. Just wanted to let you know that all you need to do is sit back and relax, it's gonna be a long lonely vacation for you while the others on your team - the ones who were actually invited to the party - enjoy themselves."

Startled at this new and strange voice booming out overhead, Tim's head moves as if trying to get away from the volume, until he realizes with a dose of anger that his current predicament is forcing him to just listen - no matter how much it hurts his ears. The words themselves begin to seep into his brain, turning his senses on high.

"Oh, I know. It didn't sound like they were havin' fun. Did it? Well, I promise, that will change, real soon. Oh, and don't worry - they'll continue to think about you too. I'll make sure of that."

Dirt bag's got a rotten sense of humor if he thinks this is funny. What the hell does he really want? Tim's mind demands to know even as he holds his silence, forcing himself to do, exactly what the dirt bag wants - silently listen to what's being said.

"But for now, they'll be fine. I promise! Oh, you're not invited to most of the fun, but you will be allowed in on some of it - - we'll be back for you later - much later. "

Wait, so, he's just leaving me here like this? For how long?

"And if you're lucky- and you behave - I'll let you play the final game of the party with us."

What the hell's gonna happen to them? Wait, let me ...with ...us? Obviously, this bastard's looking for a reaction. DON'T give him one!

Forcing himself to breathe regularly, he finds the calm he needs to remain completely still - refusing to react. But, try as he might, he can't stop his mind from continuing to process what its' hearing and thinking about it.

Game? Party? Oh, God. He's gonna kill us all! Tim's experiences in the field and with reporting on other cases, tells him his gut reaction is right on and it quickens his breathing into a harshness that reverberates through the room, almost as loudly as the speaker that's still spewing forth its' taunting message.

"Remember! Just sit...and relax...until I come back for you. Easy enough for an underappreciated, overworked geek to do, right? I know you needed this vacation. It's been a really tough year for you. And just think, maybe by the time this is all over, they'll have come to appreciate you once and for all! Well, miracles do happen, don't they?"

I don't care what they think of me! Just let them go! His mind is screaming and his lips twitch; the urge to scream out his thoughts pulling at him so heavily. Stubbornly, he bites his tongue, refusing to give this bastard that much satisfaction. For all Tim knows, the guy's watching from a window into the room or something.

"Oh, but if we worry about that, then we won't be able to play that final game I have planned for them - and possibly you, too. Well, I'll decide that later. Enjoy your peace and quiet, Agent McGee! You've earned it!"

The slight squawk as the speaker goes silent jolts Tim's reflexes, causing him to twitch, sending a fresh round of agony through his nearly numb arms as the chain bites into him yet again. As he feels it, anger curls insidiously inside Tim's gut, his breath heavy and harsh in the now otherwise silent room; the words of his captor burning into his brain, resting there, coated with bitterness and impotence.

As the anger builds into an overpowering wave; at his friends' predicament; at his own; at all of their inability to fix it or get help; himself, unable to move or even close his eyes, the only thing left for him to do - is scream in silence, the pain of it all echoing in his head.

*****NCIS*****

Sunday - Sept 18, 2011

Morning finds Gibbs waking up on his couch with a stiff back and a frown. It's been a very long time since he's crashed here. What the hell happened that had him too tired to make it up to his bedroom? Thinking back as he shuffles to the kitchen and finds his coffee maker not his favorite piece of equipment this morning since it's sitting cold and unprepared to meet his needs, he recalls getting in late last night after having reading a bed-time story to his God-daughter.

Now, he remembers! Rinsing his coffee carafe and refilling it with fresh water, he recalls being just relaxed enough to sit on the couch and pick up the book he's been trying to get through here lately. As he finishes setting up his coffee to brew, he can't help but wonder why he failed to do this last night when he got in since he hadn't been that tired.

Again, his memory serves him well as it reminds him that his thoughts had once again turned to his team, albeit briefly, as he'd discovered that with the peace and quiet in which to hear himself think; what he'd heard was that all too familiar warning bell that something wasn't right. He'd tried both Tony's and Ziva's cell phones again and still only came up with their voicemails.

It occurs to him that maybe; just maybe things between Tony and Ziva have heated to a boiling point where Rule #12 becomes the soup of the day and given that situation's explosive possibility, it would make sense that they wouldn't be answering their phones. That's a crock and you know it! Neither of them is ever unreachable for this long!

With a heavy sigh, he fills his coffee mug, quickly drinks it down and refills it before heading up to the shower. He'll look into this further after he's gotten ready to face the day. He'll start with DiNozzo's place since it's closer. Hopefully, all he'll find is his two agents getting it on together, their cell phones off on purpose. But, first thing he'll do, is call Abby. She'll know.

*****NCIS*****

Abby's Sunday morning is nothing unusual. After going to Mass, she dons her Habitat for Humanity get-up and is out the door - fully prepared to immerse herself into the challenge and enjoyment she gets from helping out. It's gonna be a great day with no sign of rain in sight, meaning they'll be able to get a lot done while they work until after dark tonight. This is her kind of weekend.

Half-way to her destination, she hits a red light and notices that she's missed a call on her phone. Quickly, she returns it.

"Hey, Gibbs! You're up early. Of course, you are, you're always up early. But, what's up? Did we get a case?"

"Slow down, Abbs. No case. Just wonderin' if you've heard from any of the team."

"No. But, then I wasn't expecting to. I know they're busy unwinding and I'm on my way to my Habitat Sunday. Why? Is something wrong? Were they supposed to call?"

"No."

"But, you think there's somethin' wrong." She surmises. He wouldn't be calling otherwise. She smiles at the sweetness of this unexpected view of the man.

"Not exactly."

"Gibbs, I'm guessing you're so used to one of them bugging you every day that them not doing it is strange. I don't know what any of their plans were. I know that's strange but I think it's because for once, none of them had plans to do anything together? I know they were all really bushed so they're probably all doing whatever it is they do that they don't ever admit they do - to relax." Abby surmises with complete calmness and a chipper tone that's almost infectious.

"Heh. Maybe."

"Relax, boss man! Enjoy the weekend! Isn't that what you always tell us? Maybe they're finally listening to you."

"Maybe. Go on, enjoy your work."

"I will. See you tomorrow, Gibbs. Oh, wait, no I won't! I'll be teaching! All week! Wow, we won't see each other for a week, Gibbs!"

"We'll be fine, Abbs. So will you."

"Don't be too fine without me!"

"Heh. Don't worry, you'll be missed. You know we need you."

"Aw, you always know just what to say, Gibbs!"

"Bye, Abbs."

Snapping her phone shut against the empty air of a now deadened connection, she drops it into the passenger seat and continues on her way. With a huff of laughter, she fondly puts this memory of Gibbs worrying about his kids even off the job, away for later down the road when he tries to act like he doesn't care. It'll be a memory she's sure he'll treasure. Yeah. Right. Not!

She's so excited about the work ahead that as she arrives at the house she's helping with, that she parks crooked and scurries around to the trunk of her car for her gear, the conversation with Gibbs is shelved for now. She's not worried about her three musketeers because she knows they're just relaxing on their rare weekend off. Slapping her hard had down on her head; she heads inside, her mind completely focused on her game plan for the day.