Brynja paced in the hospital waiting room, head down, arms closed around her body. Emergency room medics attended the girls she and Tony had brought in, and she knew these people knew their jobs, but waiting was still an agony. Tony either stood at the waiting room window or sat in a chair. He disappeared completely once, returning fifteen minutes later from the hospital cafeteria with coffee, tea, and breakfast wraps. Brynja chewed the odd foods silently, thanking Tony with her eyes, and oddly wished for her computer. She wanted desperately to throw herself back into the case, give herself something to do, anything but this damned maddening, silent waiting.
Tony watched her pace from his seat. He was worried about the girls' condition too, but he knew they were in good hands. Right now he was more worried about Brynja; she had just become the bastard's target, and in her current state she was too distracted. They had to be careful. Her face changed suddenly, as did her physical direction; she headed for the elevator, and Tony quickly moved to stop her. He put a long arm between her and the door before it could open, and he heard the sharp intake of breath. She hadn't heard him coming. Tony's serious eyes found her ice blues: distracted and disturbed.
"Whatever you think you need right now, you don't," he said firmly. "You know he wants you next."
She drew in a ragged breath. "I know. It's just this waiting: the not knowing. I'm not worried for myself," she explained, "I've known for a while how this would end, but seeing the girls like this, finding them alive, it's just," she paused, searching for the right words, but came up empty.
"It's hard. You're used to dealing with bodies, not living victims. Seeing their pain is different," he nodded, "and it should be. But don't let him shake you out of your game. You have to be the better predator now. It's your move."
She nodded. "You're right." She sighed, and leaned back against the wall, folding her arms across her body again. "I just wish I had something to do, something to focus on. Either that or a speed bag," she said wistfully, "sometimes working out makes me feel better, too. Especially when I can beat the fylling out of something," she said, punching the air in front of her. She and Tony started walking back towards the waiting room.
"Speaking of THAT," Tony said, sounding incredulous, "how did you manage to break that bastard earlier? I heard his breastbone crack 10 feet away!"
She hesitated, "I can tell you, but I don't think you'll believe me. Oh, don't try to lie out of it," she waved a hand at his face impatiently, "I saw the look on your face yesterday morning, when I told the lot of you how I escaped in Izmir. You thought I was lying. Now you know differently. I could have killed him just as I could have killed Grendel's stand-in this morning. Not that it didn't cross my mind," she added hurriedly, "but I can't interrogate a corpse, and unless Gibbs has supernatural powers, he can't either."
"So?" he prompted.
They had reached the chairs again. She sighed as she sat down. "It was something Liam taught me. Are you familiar with the OIP: the One-Inch Punch?"
Tony sat back, impressed. "Bruce Lee's specialty? Everybody knows about that, but," he paused, shaking his head, "you're way too young to have studied under Bruce Lee!"
She smiled. "I am, but Mr. Lee had students. One of those students was Liam's instructor. That man modified the OIP into something attainable within a foot or less. He taught Liam, and Liam taught me."
Tony looked at her curiously. "You were really close to him, weren't you?"
"Of course. We were a team for almost three years. He latched onto me almost as soon as I joined the squad; I had—problems—with my first three partners, but never with Liam. He was a good officer, and a good friend." She sighed. "I learned a lot of things from him."
"Like Kung Fu and talking dirty?" Tony grinned.
"And why it's SO important to knock on your partner's door before entering," she blushed a little, embarrassed at the memory. "There are some lessons I could have lived without!" She glanced at Tony's face, and his eyes were wide mock horror. "Liam forgave me, of course. He knew it was an accident, but Willem-his partner-wouldn't look me in the eyes for a long time. He was really angry."
"You walked in on them when they were mid-," he started, then realized what he was about to say, "Oh. OOOW! That had to be uncomfortable."
"Yes."
Tony grimaced and squirmed in his seat. Something else had occurred to him, and for all his normal trash talk, he felt suddenly uneasy. What's wrong with you, DiNozzo? he asked himself, if this were Kate or Ziva, you wouldn't hesitate like this. Maybe that's it: this isn't your partner you're talking to. Maybe it's the nature of the op. Maybe…
"Tony?" Brynja was looking at him oddly. "What is it?" He looked her in the eyes, and felt his face flaming. For some reason, he actually felt guilty. He looked at the table between them for a moment, thinking. "You thought of something," she pressed, "I can see it in your face. What?"
He took a breath. "Liam. You said he was gay. Um, how gay was he?"
She sat back and gave him a LOOK. "What kind of question is that?"
"I mean, was he totally, exclusively homosexual, or was he bi?"
Her eyes narrowed, and she leaned forward, peering into his face. Comprehension suddenly opened her features. "You want to know if I slept with him or not."
"Did you?"
"No." She gave him another LOOK. "Even if he hadn't been gay, I wouldn't have. Oh, we bunked together a few times, when space and budget was tight, but nothing ever happened. Liam was always strictly professional; he never crossed the line, and neither did I. We were never more than close friends, and he was in a committed relationship." She looked at him strangely. "Why?"
"Was his—partner—ever jealous?"
"Of my relationship with Liam?" Brynja frowned, sitting back and thinking. "Yes, he was. He used to give me some of the nastiest looks, especially the first year we worked together. It didn't help that I wasn't dating. He thought the worst of me for the longest time." She chewed her lip, remembering. "We finally had a long talk, and I think that settled things. I explained my situation, my relationship with Liam, and what I knew of Liam's feelings. He eventually apologized for being such an ass. We might have become friends eventually, except that Liam was killed." She shook her head. "Why does this matter?"
Tony scowled. "We may have to enlarge our circle of suspects." Brynja looked puzzled, so he continued. "Our perp—Grendel—he knows a lot about you, and he had to get it from somewhere. Think about it: he knows who you are, your Icelandic name, your address, and your phone number. He profiled you enough to predict your actions. The only way somebody could get some of this information is by talking to people who know you. People who know you and hold a grudge—all the better."
"He speaks my language, too, or at least understands some of it. That has to be worth something." Brynja chewed her bottom lip, thinking. "Captain Jenkins knew all the time. His son was one of the boys from my first case," she explained, "he died in prison, and Mrs. Jenkins committed suicide just last year. I used to get a lot of hate mail from the other boys' families, but that eventually quit. I suspect the prosecutor intervened, because it all just," she brought her hands together in a closing motion, "quit. Grendel could be someone from that group, or connected to it. I bet Scotland Yard could help us identify some of the family members. I have some friends there, too."
Tony nodded. "If we thought of it, Gibbs did, and if Gibbs thought of it, then he already has McGee working on it. Willem should be checked out, too."
"Grendel may have taken advantage of his grief," offered Brynja, nodding.
"Yes. Then there's your boss and your ex-partners: the ones you had before Liam. We should go over those as well. Any ex-boyfriends? Those could be important, too." Tony's face was serious.
Brynja shook her head. "No, that record is clean. I haven't dated since," she paused, thinking, "before this case started. No, change that: I haven't dated since just before my roommate's attack, almost 9 years ago. Daniel doesn't really count." Tony's eyebrows had gone up in disbelief. "What?"
"Nine years? And in all that time you haven't," Tony began incredulously, but Brynja interrupted him.
"That's my business, Agent DiNozzo," she snapped. "Need to know only. And nothing about this case will change that." Her eyes had frozen over again, and Tony swore he could feel the air cool around him.
"Sorry, I," he stammered, backing off, "I didn't mean to offend you. I'm just, surprised; that's all," he offered lamely. "I mean, looking at you, and this morning, and, well," her eyes were getting even colder. "It never occurred to me that you hadn't, you know, been with anybody recently. I kinda take that for granted." Her face twitched almost imperceptively, but Tony caught it, and suddenly things started clicking in his mind: 'freshman', 'polar opposites', and her 'situation'. "OH! Oh, god. I'm sorry." He felt his face burn, and stood up to cover his embarrassment. "Shutting up now." He walked to the opposite wall, and leaned against it, feeling foolish.
Brynja leaned back against the wall behind her, and a frustrated growl came from her throat. "I am so sick of this," she muttered. She raised her voice deliberately. "It isn't a dirty word, Agent DiNozzo, or a communicable disease, or a handicap. There's nothing wrong with me." She glared at him from across the hallway. "It also isn't something you're free to laugh about with your buddies over coffee or bourbon. I'll take great personal offense if you fail to be professional, and you already know what I can do."
Tony felt slapped, and not on the back of the head, either. "Hey! I never said any of that, or even implied it," he retorted, "and I wouldn't do that to you, either." He walked back to the chair facing her, and sat down again, looking into openly hostile eyes. "What you do, or not do, in your personal life is your business. What you choose to share is your business. I'm just," he paused, looking for the right word, then settled on something easy, "really surprised!" He glanced down at the table, remembering his arousal during their earlier drama, suddenly uncomfortable again.
"Because of our play-acting this morning?" Her face suddenly relaxed with amusement. "I should let you in on a few trade secrets, then." She leaned forward again, and dropped her voice to a husky whisper. "You may want to write this down, just so you don't forget it." Her shapely lips seemed to wrap themselves around every consonant.
Tony leaned forward, fascinated by her sudden sultriness. "And that is?"
"One: I don't have to have sex, to be very, very sexy. Two: Don't mistake virginity for ignorance or innocence. I have nothing of the latter," she explained in a normal tone, sitting back, "so you don't have to be so worried about my feelings while on the job."
Tony took a calming breath and sat up. His head was still spinning a little. "Meaning?" he grunted.
Brynja closed her eyes and shook her head. "Men." She leaned forward again. "Meaning, Agent DiNozzo, that we're hunting a narcissistic psychopathic sex criminal. I need you to THINK like him, maybe even TALK like him, in order to CATCH him. Can you do that?"
Tony's eyes narrowed, suddenly wary. "You've been hunting him for three years. Why suddenly me and not you?"
"Because you have a testosterone, Tony, and I don't. Our gender differences may make all the difference in the world here. Now, can you think, and talk, like a totally self-absorbed, psychotically horny bastard, or not? Because if you CAN'T, I'm sure I can get Gibbs to—"
"Oh, sweetheart, I'm on the job!" exclaimed Tony. "You came to the right agent!"
"Good boy," Brynja praised him silkily, nodding. "And if you're especially good, I'll let you see a picture of me posing as a French Dominatrix." Tony's eyes widened again in surprise, and she shrugged. "Liam and I took down a pornographic slave ring in Paris a few years back. I was undercover," she grinned wickedly, "and the black leather outfit contrasted best with my hair."
Tony groaned, and dropped his head into his hands. "I can't believe it. You can do all this, and you're still-How?" he looked at her again, dumbfounded.
She shrugged. "No big secret. I just never fell in love. At least, not far enough to make me want to take the next step. My last serious boyfriend," her face sobered suddenly, and he saw pain with the memory, "raped my roommate at a party. I was supposed to be on that date," she told him, "but I was sick that night. She went with him just to go out for once, and," her eyes misted a little, "they destroyed her. I haven't had much time or desire for romance since then. I know all men aren't to blame, it's just-hard. I can't really explain it," she offered.
"That's survivor's guilt," Tony explained, a calculating look creeping into his face. "Grendel knows you feel responsible for what happened to someone else in your stead. That's why he's willing to use innocents to get to you. It isn't about them, it's about hurting you."
"Go on," Brynja's eyes narrowed.
Tony took a breath, and his eyes searched nothingness. "Innocents: his victims are innocents. And virginal," he added, looking at her, "so he at least suspects that as well. He wants to make you suffer, establish himself as your master. He promised to make you scream," he pointed out, "in the first call last night."
The hair on Brynja's neck started to stand up. "Why, Tony? Why does it matter if my first time is also my last, if he's going to torture me to death?"
Tony looked even more distant, and his face grew hard, cold. "He wants you to feel pain, something very personal. He thinks you owe him for something, some disloyalty, some debt or betrayal. Your enjoying life at all, especially sexually, is just unacceptable. He wants you ruined, not just dead. And you're right," he looked at her coldly, "he means to make it torture. You won't die for a long time, if he gets his hands on you."
"How is he going to do that, Tony?" she asked softly, and touched his hand. He jumped. "How is he going to get me away from you, from NCIS? That's what we have to figure out next, I think."
He nodded, gagging a little. "Welcome to my world, Tony DiNozzo," she said softly.
They were still there an hour later when Gibbs showed up with McGee, and Tony looked green in the face. "Hi, Boss," he said, standing up quickly, "if you'll excuse me, I need to use the head." Gibbs nodded and stepped aside, then sat down after the tall agent left.
McGee glanced at Brynja, then Gibbs. "Boss, I'll be right back," he said, then followed Tony to the men's room. Gibbs nodded and watched him leave, then turned silently to Brynja. He sipped his usual coffee, and set it down on the table.
"Any word on the girls?" he finally opened.
She shook her head. "The doctors here haven't told us much. I don't know if that's good or bad." She scowled. "The perp: will he live?"
He nodded, eyebrows rising. "Yes, but he won't be conscious for a while. He's in surgery also at Bethesda—our Naval Hospital—and won't be talking for a while. You shouldn't have gone in without backup," he said sternly. "It could be you on the table, instead of this Grendel character."
She looked up quickly. "That wasn't—isn't—Grendel, Agent Gibbs. That monstrosity was just a stand-in, perhaps one of his gang. Tony and I have been profiling Grendel for the last hour, and I'm certain the man arrested this morning isn't him," she explained.
Gibbs' eyes narrowed. "What makes you so sure? This Grendel promised to take you after you got to play the hero this morning; the timing is just right."
She shook her head. "The attack was too simple, too crude, and poorly planned. Grendel is a true human monster: sinister, thinking, and patient. He may have been watching, to get an idea of my fighting style, but he wasn't there. Or at least," she paused, "he wasn't our perp at the park."
Gibbs nodded thoughtfully. "So the stand-in may have been an acceptable sacrifice to gain more intel on you, OR," he paused, and held up a finger, "a distraction, to make us think we have our bad guy."
"And so let down our guard. Or more correctly, MY guard," finished Brynja. "So that I would leave the NCIS umbrella."
"Like this morning" growled Gibbs, "when you hung up on me? I was trying to send you both a warning. Your Grendel emailed me this morning. I knew you were in danger, but you wouldn't let me finish, and you could have been shot or stabbed to death because of it."
"That was my call, Boss," offered Tony as he walked back into the waiting room with McGee. "Brynja caught the attempted warning, and told me about it. I made the decision to go ahead and rescue the girls, not her," Gibbs looked up at Tony, surprise mixing with annoyance (and a little pride). "I knew how cold it was last night, and figured the girls could die of exposure if we waited too long, so I made the call to go in."
"Which turned out to be the right decision," intoned an older Chinese man in surgical garb, stepping into the discussion. "Doctor Cho Fen, pediatric surgeon, officers. Who is in charge here?"
Gibbs and Brynja exchanged a look, and she gave him an imperceptible nod. "This is a joint operation, Doctor," offered Gibbs, "multiple departments: I'm Agent Gibbs, and these are agents DiNozzo and McGee with NCIS. This is Officer Frost, with Interpol—"
"And FBI, too, Jethro," said Fornell, walking up. "Don't leave us out of the game. What can you tell us, Doctor Cho?"
"We need to retire to a conference room, officers. This discussion is of a delicate nature, and confidentiality must be considered. The girls', not yours," the doctor noted, seeing their faces. They all nodded, and followed the diminutive man to another room, where they found chairs and a door to shut.
"First, let me reiterate what I just told Agent Gibbs, here," began Dr. Cho. "The decision to secure the girls against exposure was correct. They could have gone into shock and possibly died soon, if they had not been made warm. On top of that, treating their injuries has been a challenge. The girls have both been savagely whipped, suffering lacerations that had to be stitched up. I found burn marks indicative of some sort of electrical device, perhaps a cattle prod." Several agents swore loudly. "Finally, they were forcibly and repeatedly raped, possibly by more than one assailant, although I'm waiting for the lab work to confirm that. Internal damage was extensive. The girls have had emergency surgery to repair tearing to internal organs and stop bleeding, but that might not be enough. They'll probably need more in the years to come, just to live normal lives. As for normal fertility," the old man shrugged, and his body began to shake, "we'll have to wait and see. Lady, gentlemen, from the rest of the hospital staff, I have a request." The surgeon gripped the table in front of him, and his knuckles turned white.
"Name it, Doctor," said a white-faced Gibbs. Around him, Frost, Fornell, DiNozzo and McGee all nodded.
"Don't bother arresting this piece of filth, if you can catch him," snapped the old man, "kill him. He is a disgrace to humanity."
"I'll do my best, Doctor," offered Brynja softly. The old surgeon looked steadily into her eyes, and then nodded.
"I believe you," he said, then looked at the silent, grim faces of the other officers in the room. "All of you. I know you will do your best." He sighed.
Gibbs cleared his throat, "Doctor, I hate to ask, but when-?"
"The anaesthetic won't wear off fully for several hours, Agent Gibbs. You won't be able to speak to the children before this evening, if then." He held up his hands. "I know you need to get as much information as possible, officers, but the human body can only take so much before it shuts down. These girls have been through hell; bringing them back has been nothing short of a miracle, and their recovery is uncertain. I can call you when they become coherent, if that happens. In the meantime, is there any chance their attacker might try to seek them out again, while they are here?"
"That's always a possibility, Doctor," offered Fornell, "but we can leave agents to keep watch. Between our respective departments, I'm sure we can set up good security, right Jethro? Frost?"
Gibbs nodded, but Brynja frowned. "I'll have to call my supervisor here in the states to confirm that, gentlemen," she explained. "I don't have that kind of authority. I believe it would be in the girls' best interest if the FBI and NCIS took the lead on security, since we are on your soil."
"Doctor Cho, Agent Fornell and I will hand-pick the girls' security teams. We won't let anything happen to them again," offered Gibbs. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we have several phone calls to make."
"Of course," replied the old doctor, "and I must get back to my patients. Good day, lady and gentlemen," he bowed to them all, and left the room.
Gibbs and Fornell made their respective phone calls, and then turned back to the conference table. "Security teams will be here in 15 minutes," offered Fornell. "What then?"
"Back to my office," suggested Gibbs. "We have evidence that came in overnight that needs to be processed. Frost?"
She nodded. "That's fine with me as well. I need to see the email you mentioned, and we should all check our accounts. You might not have been the only one contacted. I've had to deal with some of this before; Grendel has a habit of taunting law enforcement."
"Grendel?" asked Fornell in surprise. "When did we get a name on this guy?"
"I called him Grendel last night," explained Brynja, "after the monster from the Beowulf myth. It seems to fit."
"I remember that movie," mused Fornell, "doesn't Beowulf rip the monster limb from limb?"
"That's the one," coughed McGee, staring at Frost. She shrugged.
Gibbs frowned appreciatively. "Nice touch, Frost."
TBC
