Title: Personal Demons
Chapter: 8
Disclaimer: See Chapter 7
Note: Sorry about the time lapse. My beta and I had finals and then my internet took a shit. I am currently updating from Barnes and Noble. If someone wants to send AT&T hate-mail, be my guest.
So, I took on a scene in Jurisdiction this week that had been bothering me and manipulated it to fit in my story. Do not ask me to do this with last week's NCIS episode, however, because I can't. Besides, Tony would never fall in love with someone he doesn't know. Look how long it took him to fall for Jeanne. Therefore, I am ignoring Obsession completely, as it is not in canon.
Enjoy this chapter. I wrote in a TIVA scene because you all deserve it for sticking with me.
Phoof
16:00
They had been working for hours; digging through a box of what Ziva had referred to as "unorganized crap," and had discovered nothing of use. Tony and Ziva were about to throw everything back in the box and ship it back to the CIA with a "pay on arrival" stamp when McGee found the envelope.
It was at the bottom, the last item in the last box. A small, unmarked manila envelope that was nearly overlooked held the key to the puzzle. McGee opened it and dumped the contents onto the conference room table. Tony was buried behind a stack of papers, whining about the wasted afternoon, and only looked up when McGee was dangling the silver key in front of him. It was numbered, two-zero-seven with a bulky keychain attached.
Ziva leaned across the table, looking at it curiously. "Isn't that one of those… robots?" she asked, tipping her head at the keychain.
"Droid—not robot, Ziva." McGee answered. "It's R2-D2, from…."
"Star Wars," Tony finished thoughtfully, before plucking the keychain from McGee's fingers. The silver R2-D2 reproduction was small, only about two inches in height. As the key twirled in the air, hanging from his fingers, Tony suddenly realized that the answer had been right in front of him all along. "The Death Star is operational," he said to himself.
"What?" McGee asked.
"It's R2-D2!" He said with a laugh. He turned the key over, looking at the numbers that were punched into the base.
"Yeah, I can see that… what does R2-D2 have to do with stolen navy blueprints?" he rolled his eyes, watching Tony study the numbers.
Tony was grinning from ear to ear, "They hid the blueprint in the droid, McGee!"
Ziva rolled her eyes and grabbed the keychain from Tony, turning it over in her hands. "You are not making sense, DiNozzo," she said before banging the object against the table, "This… droid is not hiding anything."
"Not in it physically, Ziva," he grabbed it back from her and held it up, "In Star Wars episode four, the rebel alliance stole the blueprints for the death star and hid them…"
"Inside R2-D2," McGee finished, catching on to Tony's train of thought.
"I still do not follow," Ziva said, crossing her arms and looking from Tony to McGee.
"They don't need the blueprint to make the weapon," Tony said, "They want it so they can learn how to destroy the weapon."
McGee nodded, "We've been looking at it backwards."
Tony grinned and tossed the key across the table to McGee. "Find the droid, find the blueprint."
McGee caught the key and swung it around his finger with a smile, "Find the blueprint, find the kidnapper."
"Find the kidnapper, find the kid," Gibbs said, entering the room from the hallway without missing a beat. "Good work, DiNozzo."
"Now we have to figure out what this key opens," McGee added, handing it to Gibbs.
He took a drink of his coffee and turned it over in his hand. "Send it to Abby."
One Month Prior
On the way up to Ziva's apartment, Tony grabbed the FedEx package that was sitting by the row of mailboxes. It was addressed to her from someone in Israel, and he was curious to know who she was still in contact with. He was grateful that his nosiness could be easily masked as a Good Samaritan act… she wouldn't have to walk down three flights of stairs to get her mail. At least that was what he told himself.
When he reached the door, he knocked lightly. There was a muffled thump, followed by footsteps toward the door. After a short delay, presumably to look through the peep hole, the door opened.
"Good morning," Ziva said evenly, opening the door for him. Her hair was in a tight ponytail, skin moist, wearing very, very small shorts.
Tony tried not to stare at her long, lean, very attractive legs as he walked through the doorframe. "Hey," he said, voice cracking like an adolescent. He held the thick envelope out after she let go of the door, letting it close.
She rolled her eyes, "They are yoga shorts, Tony," she said, walking past him into the kitchen, glancing momentarily at the package. "That can go in the coat closet with the other letters from my father."
"They are very small yoga shorts," he corrected as he opened the coat closet door as instructed. Inside was a large bin, full of identical envelopes, all unopened. "You should invest in FedEx stock," he quipped, throwing the package in with the rest and closing the door. He turned around and chuckled, "I think you have some unresolved daddy issues, Ziva."
She shrugged and poured coffee for herself and Tony. "The pot calls the kettle black," she said, smirking at him. She picked up both mugs as he walked around the counter into the kitchen.
He stopped in front of her and raised his eyebrows.
"What?" she frowned, "I said it correctly."
He smiled and lifted both mugs from her hands, and set them down on the counter behind her, trapping her between his arms. "You did say it right," he agreed.
She smiled and held his gaze, brown eyes unblinking. He stole another glance at her shorts, but his eyes weren't fast enough. She caught him ogling. "You know," she whispered, standing up straight and looking at him from under her thick eyelashes, "You have seen me in less." She placed a hand on his chest, gently pushing him backwards.
He swallowed, remembering. "Well… yeah, but that was… we weren't…" he trailed off as she backed him up another few steps. His attempt to end the sentence failed. Putting their… relationship into words was more difficult than he imagined. Any definition that he came up with didn't adequately describe how he felt, and the idea that his feelings were stronger than words was terrifying.
"Were not what?" Her voice sounded seductive, her brown eyes were entrancing. She was pushing him into uncharted waters in more ways than one.
He felt his back bump the kitchen wall. He let out a nervous laugh, eyes still locked with hers. "Not… playing grab-ass in your kitchen, for one thing." He tried to regain control of the situation, but electricity was shooting up and down his spine every time she touched him.
She held her face inches from his. "Is that what this is, Tony?" She reached behind him suddenly and squeezed his butt with both hands. "A game?"
He inhaled sharply, his body screaming for her to continue. It took every fiber of his being to ignore the impulses she was igniting in him. He exhaled and reached behind him to pull her hands off. He intertwined his fingers with hers. "No, it's not what this is."
Her face softened and her body relaxed. "Okay."
"Okay?"
She looked at him with a serious expression, her eyes trying to read his. "We are risking our jobs, Tony." Her voice was quiet. "And I do not think I could do that if…."
"I only wanted to grab your ass," he finished.
"Or something along that line," she agreed, nodding her head thoughtfully.
"Right." He hid a smile as he let go of her hands and lifted her off her feet before turning around and setting her down on the counter. "For the record, though, I wouldn't have a problem with grabbing your… you know." He furrowed his brow into what he hoped looked like a serious expression.
Her cheeks turned pink and she looked down briefly before meeting his eyes again. "How about breakfast first?" she said with an amused voice.
"I like breakfast," he said in a low voice, leaning in to kiss her.
A second later, they were interrupted by the vibration of her phone on the counter. She turned it over to look at the caller id. It was Gibbs.
"We may have to push our date back," she sighed as she flipped the phone open to answer.
16:30
Gibbs opened the door to M-TAC and moved silently toward where Vance was standing. He was conferencing with the NCIS team located in France, sharing intelligence. From what Gibbs was able to gather from the few minutes of conversation, they hadn't found anything helpful on their end.
"Thanks for the call, Piot. Let us know if you think of anything else." Vance took off his headset and signaled for the connection to be severed. He twirled his toothpick, staring at the blank screen. "How much time we got left?" he asked.
Gibbs looked at his watch, "Ten hours, give or take."
"Let's pray that it's the former," he said. "Any progress?"
He nodded, "DiNozzo found a key."
Leon waited for him to continue. After a few seconds, he turned to look at Gibbs, eyebrows raised. "Does it open something?"
"Well, gee Leon, I hope so," he said sarcastically, "did you call me up here for a reason?"
"Paris didn't find anything helpful at La Grenouille's estate," he replied.
"Gathered that." Gibbs was becoming impatient.
"I just want to know if you have a plan B, Agent Gibbs. We're running out of time and…"
"Still workin' on Plan A," he said, cutting the director off. He turned toward the door.
"What happens if it fails?" he asked as Gibbs reached the door.
He stopped, hand on the doorknob. "I guess we'll know in ten hours." He opened the door and walked out without waiting for a response.
16:45
Tony watched as Abby inspected the key and slurped her Caf-Pow, now nearly empty. She turned it over in her hands and held it up to the light.
"Will you be able to tell where it's from?" McGee asked
She rolled her eyes and tossed it back at Tony, "I don't even need brainpower to figure it out, McGee." She tossed her Caf-Pow into the garbage. "It's a locker key from Dulles International Airport."
Ziva glanced at the small, numbered key in Tony's hands. "How do you know?" she asked.
Abby turned toward her computer, back to the three agents, "Because I am brilliant, Ziva… and because it is stamped "IAD" along the edge."
Gibbs entered the lab as she spoke, Caf-Pow in hand. "Good work, Abs."
She smiled without turning around, "Thank you. I do my best."
"Any luck with the lettering?" Ziva asked, walking over to the computer where Abby stood.
She nodded, "The lettering is in French, and the crates look like they might be wine crates."
Tony moved to stand next to Ziva, watching the screen flick to a close up of the letters. "How many warehouses carry French wine in the area?" he asked.
"Quite a few," she answered. "But, the good news is we can narrow that list down by looking for abandoned buildings or ones that aren't frequently used." She hit a button and another screen popped up with a long list of addresses.
"Hard to hide a toddler in a busy export warehouse," McGee agreed.
"Unless they run the export business, McGee," Gibbs added.
"Is that what your gut says?" Tony asked.
Gibbs shot them a half smile, "No, DiNozzo. But, we should consider all possibilities."
"Right, boss," Abby said, mimicking Tony's voice. She grinned and turned back toward the computer when he shot her a look.
"Ziva and I will go find the locker. I want the two of you to narrow down the list of possible warehouse locations," Gibbs said, nodding at Tony and McGee.
Abby hit the print button on her computer screen, printing her compiled addresses. In the opposite corner of the lab, one of her machine's started beeping. McGee made a move toward it, and was immediately stopped by Abby's protest.
"McGee, don't touch it!"
He turned around to look at her, "Touch what? I was just going to shut the alarm off."
She breezed past him toward the noise, punching a few buttons to quiet it. Tony found her sudden outburst strange, but not overly suspicious. She was obviously up to something; but, knowing Abby, they would eventually find out what it was.
"What are you using the…" McGee started to ask a question, and was cut off again.
"What I am doing is none of your business, McGee," she said in a serious voice. He opened his mouth again, and she walked over and clamped it shut with her hand. "No more questions. Too much work to do."
He nodded, her hand still covering his mouth.
She looked at Tony. "List is printed." She let go of McGee. "Now, go solve this case." Abby stepped back and folded her arms, waiting.
Tony shot her one last odd look before he and McGee exited the lab. When they were safely in the elevator, he turned toward McGee. "Weird."
He nodded in agreement.
17:30
Gibbs and Ziva went directly to airport security when they arrived at Dulles. After flashing their badges, a hefty man with a set of handcuffs and an oversized flashlight hanging from his belt walked them slowly towards the lockers. Ziva wondered if she had ever met someone who walked slower than Security Officer Roy.
"I reckon it'll still be there," Roy was saying to Gibbs, "We don't keep tabs on the used lockers." He looked at Ziva and smiled, proudly flashing all of his four teeth.
"Even if it has not been used in over three years?" she asked him.
He nodded. "We can't follow up on every locker, y'know." He rubbed his double chin, thinking. "So if it was there, it'll still be there." He led them into a quiet corridor to the left, away from the bustling travelers. "Here you be," he said, motioning them to the right. Through the set of double doors was a large room, lockers lining every wall.
Gibbs walked past Roy without a word. Ziva smiled and thanked him before turning around to follow her boss. He was moving quickly through the rows, looking for locker two-zero-seven. They passed the one-hundreds within a few seconds, reaching the end of the row.
"There," Ziva said, pointing straight ahead. It was nestled in the far back corner of the room. She immediately noticed it was not in the range of the security cameras. Gibbs reached the locker and inserted the key, only briefly hesitating before turning it clockwise. She held her breath, afraid it wasn't going to open.
The key turned easily, and the lock made a clicking noise. Both agents exhaled audibly. Gibbs pulled open the door and they both peered inside. The locker was empty except for a long cardboard tube that leaned against the metal interior. Gibbs pulled it out and inspected it before popping the top open. He only had to pull out the top corner of the contents.
The blueprint still looked to be in good condition. The top edges were slightly bent, but from what Ziva could see, the print was still readable.
Gibbs pushed it back into the tube and returned the lid. "Let's go get this bastard," he said.
18:00
McGee had the list of possible warehouses narrowed down to twelve by the time Gibbs and Ziva returned to the NCIS headquarters. Fornell had called twice in the past hour for updates and Vance had been staring at him and Tony from the top of the stairs for almost nine minutes, silently chewing on his toothpick. McGee was glad that they had not returned empty handed.
"So, we've got the blueprint," McGee said, moving his warehouse addresses to the large screen, "Now we make the trade?"
"First we try and locate them," Gibbs said.
McGee motioned toward the plasma screen. "I've got it narrowed down to these warehouses, all exported French wine at some point and all are now abandoned.
At his desk, Tony hung up the phone and stood up to join the rest of the team. "Boss, we got a hit on the bolo. A black SUV was found in an alley off south west Water Street. License plates match.
McGee turned back to the screen, highlighting four of the addresses. "These four warehouses are within five blocks of there."
"You do not think they are still using that vehicle?" Ziva asked.
"They can't be that stupid," Tony replied, ripping the paper with the SUV's location off his pad.
"Seen worse," Gibbs said. "I'll call Fornell, and we'll scope these four locations out. Tony and Ziva, I want you to follow up on the BOLO."
Tony reached over his desk and grabbed his gun out of the drawer. "Right, boss." He shoved it into his holster and turned around just in time to catch the car keys Gibbs had thrown in midair. He and Ziva turned toward the elevator.
"Wait."
Tony and Ziva turned back to look at Gibbs.
"We have to update the director before he stares a hole through the back of my head."
Everyone looked up towards Vance, who was leaning over the upstairs railing, eyes on the four agents. Without a word, he nodded and turned back toward M-TAC without saying a word.
Gibbs sighed and started toward the stairs, the rest of the team following close behind.
One month prior
Ziva sat next to Tony in the bullpen, soda in hand. "You are my friend," she said, answering Tony's question.
"Really?" he asked, feigning shock.
She smirked at him, "No." There was no use giving him ammunition. Besides, it was not a complete lie. "My date cancelled." She turned back toward the television screen and took a drink of her soda. The plans they had made for dinner had been interrupted by work again.
"Mine too," he replied, shooting her a small smile.
She opened her mouth to add something snarky, but thought better of it. Instead, she leaned back in her office chair to watch a movie, thinking this was the strangest date she had ever been on.
