A/N: Ummm…Question. Did I say Tony and Abby were going to get rescued by Gibbs/HRT? No…. 'cause they're doing the rescuing themselves! :)
READ THIS: The escape takes place in the world of "Requiem". You'll know what this means in a few paragraphs.
Summers quickly closed the sliding glass door and stuck Abby's letter opener in the corner to disable the motion sensor.
The fire was raging through Abby's lab and the temperature was rising quickly. Abby was crying, yelling at Tony to wake up while simultaneously cursing Summers, and praying to the gods she'd make it out of there alive. She frantically pulled at the duct tape, trying to get free. The smoke was spreading fast and was making it difficult to breathe. Fortunately, the heat was making her sweat and that was weakening the tape's stick. Good thing the stuff had stretchy properties too.
With a hard yank, her right hand came free. She ripped off the gag before running over to Tony and unwrapping the duct tape around his wrists.
"Wake up Tony," she cried, shaking his shoulder and gently slapping his face. The smoke finally got to Tony and a set of racking coughs combined with Abby's slaps brought him back to consciousness. He looked around blankly for a moment before he remembered where he was.
"Abby! We've got to get into the ballistics' lab. It's our only way out!" Tony pulled his shirt over his face and headed over to the sliding door, pounding on it with both hands when it didn't open. He tried tugging it open, with no success.
"He's disabled it!" Abby wailed.
"C'mon Abby! There's got to be something in this lab that we can use!"
"Acid!" Abby's face lit up. "We can burn through the door," she called through coughs, heading back through the flames toward her cabinet.
She ran back to Tony with gloves and a vial. Tony stood off to the side and poured the acid down the side of the door. The jamb immediately began disintegrating.
"Faster! Faster!" Tony urged the acid, seeing the fire had reached Abby's equipment.
Every fiber in his being complained as Tony launched a solid kick at the door. The glass shattered but, since it was bullet resistant, did not break. Tony grabbed a hole by the weakened door jamb and began peeling away the glass.
"Let's go, Abs!" Tony called as he headed into her private office, shedding the gloves that were beginning to smoke. He turned to find Abby staring hopelessly at her lab, watching everything she loved go up in flames. "Abby! It's going to start exploding!"
The spell was broken: Abby snapped back to reality and quickly followed Tony into her office. Over the sirens, Tony heard a faint rumbling noise and a low hiss; he'd seen too many movies to not know what was going to happen next.
"Get down Abby!" he called, throwing himself on top of her. A machine in Abby's lab exploded, sending shrapnel and a cloud of smoke into the office.
"Abby! Are you okay?" he shouted, rolling off her and seeing a bloody cut on the Goth's forehead.
"I'm fine," she said, wiping the blood off her forehead. "You?" she asked, noticing a deep gash in Tony's upper arm.
"'s just a scratch," Tony lied between coughs. He'd been grazed by a piece of shrapnel, which, in all honesty, had hurt pretty badly. But he had more important things to worry about at the moment.
Through the dense fog, he crawled over to the office door, pulling desperately on the handle. He forced himself to his feet, ignoring the twinge in his arm whenever he moved it. Even through the smoke, Tony could see his jacket sleeve was turning scarlet at an alarming rate. The wound in his upper arm was clearly more serious that he'd originally thought.
He managed to kick down the door despite his body protesting his every move. He reached back for where he'd left Abby, grabbing her arm and guiding her toward the door. "Let's go!"
They headed into the ballistics' lab, pulling the door shut behind them. Tony let out a sigh of relief when he discovered the pyramid had withstood the blast and was still supporting the tile.
"Ladies first," Tony said, bowing slightly and flourishing his uninjured arm.
"Anthony DiNozzo! This is no time for chivalry!" Abby exclaimed. Despite her momentary objection, she lowered herself through the hole without further complaints.
Tony was right behind her, partially propelled by the shockwave of the second explosion from the lab. He felt like Ethan Hunt riding the helicopter explosion to safety in Mission: Impossible. Unfortunately, neither of them experienced a soft, cushy, mattress-filled dumpster—a common cliché in escape movies—in which to land.
He landed on two feet, knees bent to absorb the impact. And Gibbs said he'd never use those skydiving lessons he'd taken eight years ago! He'd always known learning how to land without injuring himself would come in handy someday. Discarding the fact that his first attempt had resulted in a week-long limp, his second, and hopefully final attempt at some sort of safe landing, was 10 point perfection.
Another explosion shook the building, knocking him backwards. Despite his best efforts to remain standing, he landed hard on the autopsy floor, jarring every previously uninjured bone in his body.
"Tony! That's more than a scratch!" Abby cried as she slowly got to her feet. She looked worriedly at Tony's jacket sleeve which now was completely soaked in blood.
"Not the time Abby," he deflected as he grabbed an autopsy table and hauled himself to his feet. He clutched Abby's arm tightly, leading her toward the stairs, knowing it was standard procedure to disable the elevators in emergency situations. They burst through the door outside evidence lock-up and headed immediately for the great outdoors.
All NCIS employees had evacuated the building and were standing outside in a tight huddle, trying to get as far away from the burning lab as possible.
"Find Gibbs," Tony instructed Abby after yet another coughing fit subsided. Without breaking pace, he motioning that they split up and continuing to shove his way through the crowd.
"DiNozzo!" he heard, turning slightly at the sound of Vance's voice. His knees buckled and his vision blurred as Vance grabbed his arm, clearly unaware of his injury. Vance pulled his hand away immediately when he felt the sticky liquid, instead holding Tony's other shoulder to support the unsteady agent.
"Are you all right DiNozzo?" The Toothpick asked concernedly. That wound must be pretty bad if he even the director—the man who had sent him to the U.S.S. Ronald Reagan and the U.S.S. Seahawk, the man who thought he was a red-headed stepchild, and the man who wanted Gibbs to permanently hire a new agent—was worried.
"Gibbs. Where's Gibbs?" Tony gasped, looking around wildly for his boss.
He spotted the silver hair a short distance away. As the crowds parted, he saw his boss being held tightly by two security guards, struggling to escape and run back into the building.
"Boss!" Tony called. Gibbs looked up, relief evident on his face. He shrugged himself free of the security guards, who allowed Gibbs to do so at Vance's nod, and headed over to Tony.
"Are you all right DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked.
"What's everyone's glitch? It's not the time for me. Summers, Jerome and their team are going to rob the US Treasury. They're ambushing the van at the rural part of DC between here and Silver Springs," Tony explained hurriedly. "We have to go! Now!"
Gibbs whistled loudly and McGee and Ziva came running.
"Tony!" they cried, glad to see their partner. Tony re-explained the situation to them.
"Just how were we supposed to figure that out from a 12 Rounds and a Firewall reference?" McGee questioned.
"If you had seen those movies, you would know, Mr. Gemcity," Tony retorted, noticing Gibbs and Vance in a private pow-wow not too far away.
"Ziva! Give me one of your guns!" Tony ordered. "Oh, come on! I know you have at least two on your person at all times, along with a knife and God knows what else," he added when she looked reluctant to part with a weapon.
"McGee, Ziva. With me," Gibbs headed toward the parking lot. "DiNozzo, you and Abby find Ducky and get yourselves checked out."
McGee and Ziva headed off, leaving Tony standing alone with a shocked look on his face. He took off running, flying past his teammates before cutting off Gibbs.
"Boss! This guy held Abby and me hostage in her lab. There is no way in hell I'm letting you arrest him without me!" Tony planted himself firmly in Gibbs' path, arms crossed determinedly over his chest. Gibbs eyed his agent, silently asking him to get out of the way. Tony held his ground, returning Gibbs' unblinking gaze.
"All right," Gibbs consented, causing Tony to grin. "Under one condition. You get that arm bandaged. I don't want you to pass out from blood loss and get yourself shot or somethin'."
"Aw, Gibbs. Didn't know you cared!" A genuine smile lit up Tony's sooty face.
"I don't, DiNozzo. I'd have to write an incident report—and you know how long and detailed those are. Then I'd have to make a copy for Vance. One for Ducky too. One for your medical records. One for the case file. One for the FBI case file 'cause we'd be thrown off this one. It's too much effort."
Tony looked wounded. "Gibbs. DiNozzo's are proud people. We do not pass out!"
"Egotistical too," McGee muttered.
"What was that, Dr. Evil?" Tony turned his glare to McGee. "Give me your handkerchief." McGee unhappily handed it over, complaining about how it was newly monogrammed.
Tony slipped off his jacket, trying to keep his right side as still as possible; he wasn't completely successful and grimaced slightly when he jarred his ribcage. He wrapped the handkerchief around his arm and tied it with his teeth before carefully sliding on his jacket again.
"Okay, Gibbs. Arm bandaged. Can we go now?" Tony started toward the parking lot. The amount of care Tony had used to avoid moving his ribs bothered Gibbs. Gibbs regretted what he had to do, knowing how much it was going to hurt Tony, but he had to find out just what was ailing his Senior Field Agent.
As Tony passed his boss, Gibbs reached out and gently touched DiNozzo's side. Tony doubled over, hissing in pain as Gibbs' fingers brushed his broken ribs.
"Gibbs." Tony spun around, swearing at his boss through clenched teeth. "What. The. Hell?" Gibbs grasped his agent's shoulders and gently eased him upright.
"How many DiNozzo?" Gibbs questioned, referring to the number of broken ribs Tony had acquired.
Tony had the perfect smart-ass answer, but one look at Gibbs told him his boss was not in the joking mood. Mouthing off to Gibbs in his current state would probably guarantee him desk duty for a week.
"One." Gibbs cocked an eyebrow, his way of telling Tony he didn't believe him.
"Two, tops," Tony shot Gibbs a deadly glare. He put his arm around his torso in an effort to protect his ribs from further abuse and tried again to head for the car.
"Cracked?" Damn you, Gibbs, Tony thought, frowning. Gibbs stood silently waiting for an answer.
"A few," Tony admitted sourly. "Nothing I can't handle." He again started for the car, but was stopped by Gibbs' hands on his shoulders. "We kinda need to get going. The robbery is happening in an hour!" Tony repeated impatiently.
"Are you sure you're up to this DiNozzo?" Gibbs inquired, looking pointedly at the handkerchief through the hole in Tony's jacket, which was now completely soaked with blood despite having only been added a few moments ago. He also noticed the dark shadows on his agent's face that vividly contrasted his unusually pale skin, though Gibbs couldn't tell whether they were bruises or soot. His Senior Field Agent didn't respond, continuing to glare at Gibbs with a 'what do you think?' expression.
"Give him a gun Ziva," Gibbs ordered before heading towards the car.
Ziva sighed heavily and pulled a gun from her ankle holster.
"Admit it. You were worried about me," Tony probed.
"Yes, Tony. I was worried about you," she paused while he grinned happily. "I was worried about all the overdue paperwork piled up on your desk that McGee and I would have to finish if you died," Ziva finished, handing over her weapon to a now frowning Tony.
"Cheer up Tony! Now you get to be my mixed martial arts partner on Saturday." Tony opened his mouth to protest. "No. No. You promised me anything if I watched Air Force One. That is it. No exceptions," she called, running to catch up with Gibbs.
"Probie! You were worried about me, right?" Tony asked, his voice taking on a slightly desperate tone.
"Yeah. I was worried about who was going to protect Abby while you were getting yourself beaten to a pulp," McGee replied, quickly following Ziva.
Tony was once again left standing alone. He shrugged his partner's feelings aside before hurrying to catch up with his team.
As the car pulled away, a loud boom caught everyone's attention. A shock wave ripped through the sedan as Abby's lab exploded in a very Die Hard manner. Tony stared straight ahead, a vacant yet determined expression on his face, while he contemplated just how close he had come to kicking the bucket. That is a horrible euphemism for death, he decided. Then again, meeting his maker, selling the farm, or going into the fertilizer business weren't much better.
The screeching of tires and loud cursing forced Tony to abandon all reflection and concentrate on keeping himself from crashing headlong into the dashboard. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself for the worst. If Gibbs didn't slow down, there were going to make the evening news.
And not in a good way.
Okay, now you know what I mean by the world of "Requiem": you can shoot a car windshield, pound it with your fist then peel it away. I suspect it's a little bit of Hollywood Magic...but, this is FanFiction. All righty? No flames on that matter.
So, if you think we're done, you've got another thing coming! What kind of author leaves the story without the good guys catching the bad guys? (Yeah, there's more to that than you think…)
If you haven't reviewed yet, drop me a line and let me know what you think! :) Thanks to all my loyal reviewers! You're awesome! :)