I have deleted and rewritten, tweaked and revamped this freakin' chapter for weeks and I am still not happy with it. I reached out to a couple of betas but never heard back, so I give up! I am posting it as-is, so I'll stop making changes. Please let me know what you do and don't appreciate, hopefully that'll help determine the precise course of the next chapter, which is also not my friend right now.
Would someone kindly explain to me how challenges work?
Thanks for reading!
Tony hummed in gratitude as he slid out of the now-still car and his feet encountered solid ground. He'd felt disconnected since McGee's call earlier, like he wasn't really able to fully absorb what was happening. But riding in a car with Ziva driving always put a new perspective on grounded. Each time you got in the car with her you thought you knew what was coming. Each time it was terrifying all over again.
He took a few steps to prove to his sense of balance that the concrete wasn't going to shift on him.
Yes, solid ground was reassuring.
Behind him, McGee and Ziva were halfheartedly bickering, an unexpected turn of events. Tony wasn't sure what prompted Ziva to nab McGee's NCIS cap and run off. But the display of levity from their Israeli partner was welcome, even if it did feel forced. Usually Tony was the only one who started what he liked to think were mood-improvers like that.
Everything was shifting already.
And that was fine. That was good, even. The team could compensate for the temporary absence of any of its members.
Temporary.
He stopped at the scratched heavy metal door that led from the parking garage into NCIS proper. His agents stopped behind him, silent now, waiting for his move.
Huh. His agents. Not his fellow agents or his partners, but his agents. People he was responsible for.
Tony tapped the pads of the fingers of his right hand against the cold metal door.
He shoved all of his doubts, all of his personal worries away. What right did he have to worry about himself, to worry about slipping back into who he used to be? The man who had wrested him out of that situation was in danger. That was all that mattered.
His hand was steady as he opened the door.
Leading his team down to their desks, he assigned tasks. "McGee, check out Gibbs' computer. Maybe there's something useful on it." They all stared doubtfully at each other.
Tony added, "Go through all the post-its he has on his desk, too. And find some charcoal or something to rub over the top pages of his blank notepads."
McGee nodded.
"Ziva, check his phone calls in and out from his cell, work and home lines for the last month. See if anything stands out."
"Yes, Tony."
They both got to work. He wanted to pester them, to make them smile or even frown. He wanted to throw paper balls at them, shoot rubber bands, to sprinkle a packet of sugar crystals in Ziva's hair or rename files on McGee's computer with lewd suggestions. They looked so serious, so studious.
"We'll regroup when I get back."
They didn't ask where he was going.
It was worse than he'd feared.
Abby's lab was silent.
No music at all. When was the last time he'd come in here when she was alone without music?
After Kate died?
He slowed as he entered the room, expecting an Abby-shaped bullet to strike him bodily. It didn't come.
"Abs?" He addressed her back as she worked on one of her many computers.
Her voice came slowly, even lower and more gravelly than normal. "I think I found something. I'm still working on it."
"Already? What've you got, Abs?"
At the familiar line, the scientist half-turned, still not looking him in the eye. She was stiff, slow, without the animation that was usually there. This was worrisome! Abby got overly emotional if one of the team sneezed or tore a cuticle. And Gibbs was like her personal god.
"I haven't had time to go through anything but the first car Ziva and McGee had towed here, and I'm not even done with that one yet. But there was a lot of wet sand packed up in the grooves of the tires. It's not a common composition. Based on…" Here, Tony heard only technobabble he did not care to process. "…so I can say with certainty that this car was in northern Maryland within the last day."
"Abs, that's fantastic." And he would feel relieved they had any clues at all if she would cease being Zombie Barbie. "The car was stolen in Virginia; the bad guys must have been the ones driving it in Maryland. That's the first solid lead we've had! Can you narrow down the area any further?"
She nodded choppily. "That's what I'm working on right now. I'll leave Major Mass-Spec to it while I go back to the garage to finish checking out the cars."
She turned to leave the lab.
She still had not looked at him.
"Abby…" He started towards her.
She backed away from him, arms crossed across her chest. Turned towards the wall and stopped.
Unsure of what was going through her head, he stayed where he was.
"Abby, it'll be fine. You'll see. We will find him."
She edged closer to the wall and put her hand on it, as though taking support. Her pigtails were uneven and drooping.
Quietly, without pleading (he hoped), he insisted, "I can do this Abs. I will bring him back."
She whirled around, lab coat swirling about her like a cape. Her eyes were so full of tears it seemed impossible they had not flooded over, but her cheeks were dry and paper white. Her gaze finally met his, and in a more voice more natural to her, she reassured, "Oh Tony, I know you will!"
Her hand on the wall had been resting on a collage of postcards he'd mailed her from his time as agent afloat.
She began to move towards him but jerked to a stop and bounced in place, face full of anguish.
Worried and confused, Tony started towards her again.
"Tony, no!" He paused, bewildered. "If you come over here I'm going to start sobbing like crazy. And I don't know if I can hold it together this time! Every time one of you gets yourself in trouble it's harder than the last time. And I can't lose it now! Gibbs needs me, Tony. You need me."
"Abs, I always need you. You're irreplaceable." It was the highest compliment he could think to give.
She tried to straighten up and stuck her fists down by her sides. "Tony, I'm not messing around! I always fall apart when something happens to the team. And when it's really bad, like so bad I can't even try to explain it except to say it's like huge nasty anticipation of the worst fear in the whole sphere of existence –"
At least she was starting to sound like Abby. Tony started towards her again.
She scuttled to the side, but continued forcefully. "No, I mean it! When it's really, really bad, it's always you who holds me together. My rock."
"I don't get it, Abby. What's different this time? Gibbs has been in trouble before. We've all been in trouble before, even you. Even Ducky. Damn, even Palmer! What's got you so twisted this time?"
"I messed it up!" she wailed.
"Messed what up?"
"I know you Tony. This has to be so hard on you. And who's your rock, if Gibbs is gone?" She bit straight through her lip, and a drop of blood appeared, slowly trickling down her chin, as though mocking the impotent tears, still locked behind some invisible dam.
"I can try to be your rock, for once."
The world went roaring white for a moment.
Tony was mortified to feel tears come to his own eyes.
He advanced upon her. She danced to the side, watching him.
He stalked her, narrowing her area for movement with each step. She hit the wall, and slid along it until she reached the corner. He kept advancing until he had effectively pinned her to the wall with his body.
Slowly, he slipped his arms around her, pulling her towards him and away from the wall. He allowed himself the indulgence of pressing his face into the spot where her neck met her left shoulder, his favorite part of the human body.
Tony was a talker. He talked when he was bored, uncomfortable or nervous. He talked when he was thinking through something, when he was trying to alleviate tension and when he was trying to distract someone. He'd talked for hours before without needed to pause.
He couldn't think of anything to say just now.
Abby started to shake. He felt her tears start; hot splashes against the side of his face. She sobbed once, and her weight suddenly fell against him, as though her legs would not support her.
He caught her, and slowly let them both sink to the floor. Abby wasn't a tiny person, but she managed to curl herself up tight enough to fit in his lap, head tucked under his chin, face turned into his chest.
His back now to the wall, he started stroking her hair, letting his hand run from the top of her head down to the tip of one pig tail, then the other.
The elevator pinged. Expecting to see McGee or Ziva, Tony did not move.
Vance entered the room. He stared. Slowly, he took a small plastic pouch out of his breast pocket, unwrapped a toothpick, and shoved it in his mouth. "Am I interrupting something?"
Tony's eyes darkened at the other man's disrespectful tone, and his face hardened to the rock Abby had accused him of being. "Director. I'm just getting an update on the forensics. I will come up to your office momentarily to give you a full briefing on the status of the investigation."
Having effectively dismissed his superior, Tony turned his attention back to Abby. He straightened her pigtails, then tweaked them.
Strangely, he did not find it hard at all to bring a smile to his face.
"Abs. Feel better?"
She nodded, still curled into him.
"Good!" He stood up suddenly, taking her with him, then placed her back on her feet and placed a kiss on the top of her head. "Time to get back to work."
She swiped a hand across her face, but smiled in return. "Slave driver."
He straightened his suit jacket. "Damn straight." Then he walked towards the elevator, glad to see that Vance had indeed left.
Riding the elevator with him right now might not be so much fun.
He turned back to Abby as he went through the lab door, and saw her sniffling but still smiling.
Horrible, brain-wrenching music invaded the previously quiet floor.
Tony smiled.
Back in her lab, Abby smiled too. She had 'forgotten' to tell Tony he had streaked black eyeliner all over his face.
DiNozzo stopped back in the bullpen to check in on the others' progress only to find Vance grilling Ziva. He was not pleased.
"Have you talked with your father at all recently? The last few times he and I spoke, he seemed very angry with you, with DiNozzo, and especially with Gibbs. If he blames Gibbs for your refusal to return to Mossad…is it possible they are behind his disappearance?"
Ziva returned the director's look cooly. "No."
"That's it? Just no?" The toothpick moved furiously.
She rose from her seat. "No, I have not spoken with Director David. No, I do not consider him my father any longer. No, I do not find it likely that Mossad is behind this. Even if they were unhappy with Gibbs, they would be more likely to…dispose…of him than take him. There is nothing for them to gain by this."
Tony spoke from right behind the director, "And I already talked to my contact there. They're not involved."
Vance spun around, and Ziva relaxed. "I should not be surprised that you have your own contact there now."
"Well I sure as hell find it unlikely. The one time you were in Israel, you were damn close to finding your ass on trial for the murder of a Mossad agent."
DiNozzo did not feel the need to reply, but Ziva stepped in for him. Expression light, her eyes smiled at her partner. "Yes, that is true, but he could not resist the opportunity to form his own information connection while he was there. This is Tony we are speaking of. As it turned out, that contact was a useful thing."
Her expression had saddened at the last, thinking of a whole life now behind her. Tony wanted to say something, but again, could not in the presence of their oh-so-helpful director.
He snapped towards Vance. "Sir. I am ready to report on the status of the investigation. In your office. Sir."
Vance led the way up to his office.
The wooden pocket door to the kitchen slid open, revealing a young woman's face with big eyes.
That face looked familiar.
"Oh, you're awake!" She walked into the room, and continued softly but with seeming sincerity in her light drawl. "Did you have a nice nap? I hope you're not too uncomfortable. I did find you the best chair in the house. The comfort of a guest should always be the first priority of any lady." That last sounded recited, as though she were repeating someone else's words.
Oh, yeah. Gibbs remembered her.
"I appreciate it." She beamed at him, and he figured what the hell, might as well give it a shot. "Any chance you could let me out of these cuffs? It's pretty uncomfortable like this." He rattled his restraints.
"Oh, I'm sorry! I wish I could, but I'm not supposed to do that right now. Can I get you anything to make you more comfortable?"
Gibbs contemplated the coffee. How demeaning would it be to drink the stuff through a straw?
She looked like a grown-up kewpie doll, with not a hair out of place. She watched him intently, waiting, apparently wanting to please.
"You weren't one of the drivers who came after me, were you?"
"Oh, no. Because of the danger, you see."
Oh, yeah. He remembered her all right.
