It turns out that the event I was going to be at all weekend is actually next weekend. So, here's another chapter!

Chapter Ten

February 5, 2011 – 12:01am

Jimmy opened his eyes to a darkened room. He felt the pillow under his cheek, the mattress under his body, the comforter wrapped around him, and realized that he was home, in his own bedroom. Slowly, holding his breath, he rolled over.

Next to him, Tony shifted position, mumbling a little in his sleep and automatically pulling more of the covers his way once Jimmy's movement created some slack.

For a moment, Jimmy simply lay there, watching his lover breathe. Then he slipped quietly out of the bed, pulled his clothes on, and made his way into the living room. He turned on the TV, quickly muting the sound, and switched to ZNN, which almost always had the ticker running at the bottom with news updates, sports scores, and most importantly, the date and time.

February 5, 2011. 12:07am.

What the hell is going on?

Jimmy stared at the screen for a moment, his mind drawing a blank. He turned toward the couch, then, feeling just a bit silly, went to the kitchen instead. It was but the work of a moment to fill the coffee machine, find Tony's travel mug, and start the coffee brewing. Then he sat down on the couch, pulling up his legs and clutching a pillow to his chest.

Huddled at the end of the couch, Jimmy finally turned his mind to consideration of the events he remembered that apparently hadn't happened – again.

This is impossible, Jimmy thought. But what other explanation is there?

According to the TV screen, only a few short hours had passed since he and Tony went to bed. He could have been dreaming, true – a really complex and involved dream – but he remembered too much. No, Jimmy was convinced that he'd actually, somehow, experienced everything that his memory said he did. But how?

It's like Groundhog's Day. Or 12:01. Hell, it is 12:01 – or was when I woke up – and Groundhog's Day was just a few days ago. I'd wonder if it was a joke, except I don't know how anyone could pull off a joke like this… or why they'd want to.

But that's not important. What is important is: what do I do now?

He'd tried warning Tony, but that hadn't worked. Maybe if he had more specific information this time, but – Dammit, Director Vance never told us who that group was. I could still try telling Tony, but first I'd have to convince him to trust that I'm right, and I can't blame him at all for not believing me. But even if I convince him, he still has to convince Gibbs and everyone else – and it'll still look like NCIS was hiding information, not that I care if it keeps everyone alive, but… but what if I'm wrong? What if I'm just crazy?

His thoughts tangled in a hopeless snarl, Jimmy sighed and leaned against the back of the couch, closing his eyes. He didn't know what to do, he didn't know what to think – but he did know what time it was, and what was approaching…

If he gets that phone call… I'll know I'm not crazy – probably not crazy – if he gets that phone call…

The minutes ticked away… and then right on time, Tony's phone began to ring. Jimmy unfolded himself and stood up, listening intently.

"DiNozzo… What'd we get, Boss?"

Jimmy nodded to himself.

"Homeland? Seriously?" And a few moments later: "These are the weapons that disappeared from our Marine bases?"

They'd been working on the case all week, but Jimmy truthfully hadn't paid much attention, there being no bodies involved. At least not until tonight… if he couldn't stop it first.

"Tonight?... Right. I'm on my way."

For a split second, Jimmy considered tying Tony down, or knocking him out – anything to keep his lover home safe. But Tony's words of the night before effectively squashed that impulse. Tony would never forgive himself if Gibbs and the others died. He'd blame himself. And honestly, I couldn't live with it, either. So whatever I do, it's got to save them all. There's no other option.

Mind made up, Jimmy walked toward the bedroom, getting to the door just as Tony opened it.

"Jimmy? What are you doing up?"

Just like before, Jimmy leaned in to kiss his lover, hoping he could pull this off. "Couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd do a little reading," he lied.

The look that Tony gave him seemed somewhat more suspicious than Jimmy remembered. "I thought you were done having nightmares…" he said slowly.

I wish that's all this was, Jimmy couldn't help but think. He regretted it almost immediately as Tony's expression shifted, from suspicion, to worry and suspicion. Technically, it's true, it's not a nightmare… but I can't tell him that. So…

He shook his head. "It wasn't a nightmare, it was just – weird." When Tony continued to stare at him, Jimmy became flustered. Crap, how do I get out of this? "I wasn't – I didn't want to wake you up, I just wanted time to think about it." All true, more or less.

Tony nodded his head toward the kitchen. "So you thought coffee was going to help?"

"No, that's for you."

"Really?" Tony raised his eyebrows. "Then why could I smell it when I woke up?"

Uh oh… Jimmy felt his face heat up, and knew he'd given himself away. Or maybe not… if he could make Tony think he was blushing for another reason. "Okay, so I went to make hot chocolate, but I put the coffee in on accident. I wasn't really awake yet, and I just went on autopilot. Okay?" He mock-glared at Tony, hoping the other man would buy his story. It certainly wouldn't be the first time Jimmy made a mistake because he was lost in thought. "At least you're up now, so it's not going to go to waste."

Tony grinned, then laughed at him. Score one for Palmer. "Yeah, don't worry, I'll dispose of the evidence for you." Then he raised his hand to stroke the side of Jimmy's face, his expression sobering. "You're sure you're okay, though?"

Jimmy closed his eyes and leaned into Tony's touch. He knew he didn't look okay, so there was no sense in lying. "I'll be okay," he promised instead.

"Tell me about it tonight?"

Jimmy opened his eyes. Tony was looking at him with a small, worried smile on his lips. "Yeah, I will." Assuming we even get to tonight, he finished in his head.

Tony didn't seem to want to leave him standing there, so Jimmy made the next move. He took Tony by the shoulders, turned him around, and began pushing him toward the bathroom. "Sounds like you got that break in the case?" he asked as he followed his lover.

"Yeah, it's ours again – for now." Tony pulled back the shower curtain, then turned his head to look back at Jimmy. "Not that I don't want your company, but if you follow me in here, you get to explain to Gibbs why I'm late."

Jimmy buried his hand in Tony's hair and pulled the agent close for a very thorough kiss, the kind of kiss that, twice now, he'd thought could never happen again. Then he let Tony go and stepped back. "I'll stay out here," he promised. "Just keep talking. What do you mean, 'for now?'"

Tony started the water running, then stepped into the shower. "Homeland Security is trying to get their fingers in the pie, too. As if we didn't have enough jurisdictional B.S. to wade through."

"But NCIS has the case now?" Jimmy raised his voice to be heard over the running water.

"Yeah, Girard finally rolled. He and his buddies were moving weapons and explosives off of Marine bases to some whack-job militia group in Michigan."

"Michigan?" Somehow that didn't fit with the mental image Jimmy'd had of the terrorists. Don't be an ass, Palmer, he thought to himself. Not all terrorists are Middle Eastern. We grow our own here, too.

"Yeah. So ATF has been watching them, we've been trying to track weapons being stolen from Marine bases, and the FBI has intel saying that a lot of weapons are being moved from the Midwest into the D.C. area. Enter Homeland, who says there's been a lot of chatter lately about an attack being planned for sometime this month in D.C." A pause, in which Jimmy could imagine Tony rinsing shampoo out of his hair. "I'm hoping for their sake that they actually know more than that, or Gibbs will probably shoot them for wasting his time." The water shut off.

Jimmy grabbed a towel and handed it past the shower curtain. "So who is this group in Michigan?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

"The Freedom for America Foundation. Their self-proclaimed mission is to save us from the government's evil schemes."

"Which evil schemes are these?"

Tony snorted. "Well, all of them, of course." He stepped out of the shower, still toweling his hair dry. "It's not that I don't agree that we could use an overhaul of at least parts of the system, but killing everyone in government and starting over isn't the way to do it."

"But that's what these guys want to do?"

"Yep, they say it's the only way. And they put it on the internet, so it must be true, right?" Tony rolled his eyes as he hung up the towel.

Jimmy wandered into the kitchen so that Tony could get dressed without distraction – at least, that was what he wanted Tony to believe. He took one of his own mugs, poured some of the coffee into it, then transferred it back to Tony's travel mug so it would look like Jimmy had used his own when he made the coffee. Then he dumped the filter with the used coffee grinds and started heating water. He might as well go ahead and make the hot chocolate now, after all this trouble.

Tony came out of the bedroom, fully dressed, just as the microwave beeped. Jimmy pulled out a re-heated slice of pizza – for the third time – and held it and the coffee while Tony pulled on his coat. "I love you," he told the other man as he handed off the food.

Mug in one hand and pizza in the other, Tony leaned in closer to plant a light kiss on Jimmy's cheek. "Love you, too." He pulled back to look into Jimmy's eyes. "You sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," Jimmy reassured him. He pulled open the door. "You be careful out there, okay?"

"Of course." As he started off down the hall, Tony took a bite of the pizza. He turned around and waved with the coffee cup. "Mwauf mwah," he said around the food in his mouth.

Jimmy smiled sadly and shook his head. "I love you, too, but you're still a slob."

The Jimmy who closed the door on this night was not the same Jimmy who'd collapsed into a heap the night before. He wasn't even the one from the night before that, searching out anything to do to distract himself from his then-baseless anxiety. This Jimmy was filled with the same nervous energy, but he had no intention of wasting it. He had too much to do, and not enough time to do it in.

Unless the night repeats again and again until I get it right. But that's just in the movies. For all I know, I only get three chances. Better make it count.

Jimmy considered what he knew while he pulled on dark colored jeans and a black long-sleeved t-shirt. It wasn't much. Sometime after the evening shift went home – 10:00, Vance had said – this group had managed to sneak in enough explosives to blow up the highway as well as the building, set those explosives up, and then boobytrap the entrances to the building. They had to be done and completely cleared out – or at least, the building had to look normal – by 4:30 or so, when the task force showed up. The bomb went off at approximately 4:45 – just as the new chairman's vehicle was passing overhead…

Wait. I didn't hear about him the first night, and I would have – they sent letters to all the news organizations. And the cars I saw on the overpass weren't the same last night as they were the night before. That was what tipped me off that something had changed.

Jimmy paused, one shoe half tied, while he thought it through. "I bet the first night, they set off the boobytrap," he speculated out loud. "Then the second night, they were being more cautious, because I told Tony. I don't really know if he believed me, but it was enough to make him take a little more care, and so they saw the traps. But then something set it off anyway…"

He closed his eyes, trying hard to remember scenes that, frankly, he'd rather forget. The cars on the overpass had been different… but was the overpass itself different as well? Suddenly it all came together…

"The first night, they set off the traps at ground level! Then the second night, they didn't, so nothing happened until the Freedom for America people wanted it to! They had their big bomb set up on the top floor, or maybe the roof – no, too risky, people driving by might see. So their main bomb was up higher, on the top floor, where it would do more damage to the overpass – the building itself wasn't important."

Jimmy stood up and started pacing the room, heedless of his half-tied shoelaces. "But why boobytrap the doors? To destroy evidence in case they were found out early – that has to be it. Or like Ducky said, to take as many law enforcement officers out as they can, so at least they've accomplished something even if they couldn't get their guy."

He stood still for a moment, thinking. Then, mind made up, he finished tying his shoes – this was no time to be careless – and went for his coat. If the problem with stopping Tony and the others from rushing to their deaths was that he didn't have enough information to convince them, then there was only one answer – get more information.

He locked the door behind him and set off down the hall, leaving a mug of hot chocolate behind to slowly cool.