29: Resolution

Ghost in the Machine

Gibbs stared at the empty seat next to him, unable for a moment to form a coherent thought.

God, Jethro… what has he done to you?

Blinking rapidly at the sound of tears in Shannon's voice, Gibbs forced himself to focus. "I'm okay, Shan. He cut me up a bit, but it's all superficial."

Doesn't look it.

The pure skepticism in her voice made him smile. He'd heard that so many times, and so many times he'd deflected with a grin and a kiss… and she'd let him get away with it. "How did you find me?"

I don't really know. After Tony came to talk to me –

"Tony? Where is he?"

In the basement, waiting for me to come back. I guess they couldn't find you, and he thought maybe I could.

"What… how?"

He said he did some research on ghosts. He thought I might be attached to you, and could find you and tell him where you are. I didn't know if it would work, but I thought about you, and then here I was.

Gibbs' mind was working fast. "Can you get enough information about the area to take back to him?"

There was a pause. I think so. It won't be easy, but I can do it.

"Atta girl." Gibbs grinned, then the smile faded as he realized what he'd said. He'd said it to her once, when they were dating, and she'd gotten annoyed with him for patronizing her. He'd apologized profusely, and then it had become a joke between them. He'd whispered it in her ear when she said 'yes' when he proposed, then again after she'd said 'I do' when they married. He'd said it when Kelly was placed in their arms for the first time. He cleared his throat. "How is Kelly?" he asked.

She's fine, and if you don't focus on getting out of here, I'll find a way to head slap you.

Gibbs glanced toward the door through which Johnson had gone, and started working at the rope, twisting and pulling with his wrist, hissing a bit as the pain from the injured skin flared up. He paused for a moment and glanced at the empty seat. "Can you help?"

I wish I could. I've never managed to move anything physically here. I tried once, when one of those exes hit you with the golf club, but I couldn't do it.

Gibbs nodded, and went back to working on the rope. It was almost loose enough to squeeze his hands through. "That's okay. What you've already done is more than enough."

I should get the information Tony needs and go back… but I don't want to leave you. What if the man who did this comes back?

Gibbs managed to pull his hands free. He sat back for a moment, flexing his fingers. Johnson had tied his wrists together, but left a fair amount of length between them. Gibbs exhaled loudly… and hoped his knife was still concealed in his belt. He reached down and slipped his fingers behind his belt.

The knife was still there.

Within moments, he had his wrists freed and had cut through the ropes binding his legs. He looked over to the empty seat. "I think I've got it covered, Shan."

You always did like to be in charge, Jethro. She sounded both relieved and amused. I'll go back now. I think Tony will be here soon.

Gibbs hesitated, then said, "Shan… I love you."

I love you, Jethro.

"And… I also love Tony. Maybe not quite in the same way, but – maybe just as much."

I know that, silly. If you're worried that I'm upset about you and Tony, you need to give yourself a head slap. Didn't I say that you should go after him?

Gibbs smiled slightly. He could just picture her slightly puzzled, mostly exasperated expression. She'd looked like that a lot when they first started dating. "Yeah, you did. And I did."

So what's the problem? It's a rule, you know… I forget the number, but it goes like this: Jethro should be happy. You've been breaking that one for a long time now.

"I'll try to stop."

You do that. See you back in the basement, Jethro.

"Shannon – wait."

What is it, Jeth?

"Shan… just in case something goes wrong… tell Tony –" he paused, trying to find the words. "Tell Tony about what I just told you. And… tell him I'm sorry. For not getting out, and for not waiting for him back at the scene."

Tell him yourself when you see him.

The sense of her presence disappeared.

Gibbs closed his eyes and sat back for a moment. He missed her terribly, but he was glad she wouldn't be there if Johnson did come back and managed to get the upper hand. He'd done a good job of covering up how weak he felt after the drugs and the lack of food and water, and the blood loss. He wasn't entirely certain he had it all as under control as he'd implied to Shannon. I need a plan. Now.

He opened his eyes and looked around. He didn't think he'd manage to get far if he tried to leave the warehouse, and he didn't want to expend all his remaining energy trying to escape only to fail and end up back in the damn car. He'd rather save it for a fight. He saw a group of old oil drums and crates sitting off to one side, not too far from Johnson's makeshift campsite. There were other potential hiding places; stacks of boxes, the other car…

He opened the door and slid out of the Hummer, almost falling when his legs trembled as he stood. He took some deep breaths, leaning against the car and flexing his legs until he felt a bit better. He shut the car door, then set out carefully to the warehouse exit; it wasn't locked. He opened it just a bit, then left that way and headed to a pile of boxes near the Hummer. He moved a few, just a bit, trying to make them look as if he'd crashed into them on his way to the door; if Johnson was observant, he'd notice the change. Then he moved to the campsite and rummaged through a duffle bag sitting next to the cot. He came up with some sort of energy bar. He found another, as well as an unopened water bottle. No phone, unfortunately. He grabbed the knife Johnson had cut him with, and brought it all with him over to the oil drums, settling behind them so that he could look out between them to see what was happening. He replaced his small knife at his belt, kept the larger knife in his hand, ripped open the wrapping around one of the bars with his teeth, and started eating slowly, settling in to wait.

Location, Location, Location

Waiting sucks, Tony thought.

Tony was pacing through the empty basement. Realistically, he knew it had only been maybe fifteen minutes. He'd tried sitting down when Shannon left, and within moments he felt as though he might vibrate out of his own skin. So he'd resorted to pacing. He knew how many steps it was from one side of the basement to the other, in all directions. He'd even figured out how much smaller to make his steps so he could exactly double the number.

What if she can't find him?

Tony sucked in a deep breath. Can't think like that. She can do it. She has to.

He continued walking. He went in a big circle around the entire basement, counting steps. He realized he'd forgotten exactly where he started, so he picked it up again. A thought occurred to him about halfway around, and he stopped short.

What if he decides to give up? What if he wants to be with Shannon and Kelly, and this is his chance?

He sat down on the floor. "It would make sense," he said softly, out loud. "He was happy with his family. He could be with them again. I couldn't blame him for that."

Well, I could. Don't be so ridiculous.

"Shannon! " Tony leapt to his feet. "Did you find him?"

Yes, I did. Her voice sounded faint.

"What's wrong? Are you alright?"

It was… it was just really difficult to be outside in the sun, trying to get the location. I'm not really supposed to do that. Sort of sapped my energy a bit. But I'm alright. You need to get to Jethro quickly, Tony. He's cut himself loose, but he's lost a fair amount of blood. He was pretending he wasn't feeling it, but I could see that he was. His hands were shaking.

Tony grimaced. Gibbs' hands were always steady. "What did that bastard do to him?"

He… he sliced Jethro up, Tony. Lots of cuts, in lots of places.

Tony swore loudly. "What can you tell me about his location?"

He's in a warehouse, near the river. I counted five different buildings… the whole area seemed abandoned. There's an airfield nearby… I saw a small plane going in to land. There was a sign on the building where Jethro was…. it said 'Hatfield and Company' on it. Shannon's voice sounded even weaker.

Tony pulled out his phone and hit a few buttons. "McGee! I need you to track down a warehouse location… Hatfield and Company, abandoned. It's near a small airport, by a river. Call me back as soon as you find it."

He snapped the phone shut and looked around. "Shannon, are you sure you're alright?"

Her laugh sounded distant. I'm a ghost, Tony – remember? I'll be fine. You go help Jethro.

"I will, as soon as McGee calls back with the location."

Tony… tell Jethro I might not be back for a while. It takes energy to be here, and I've used a lot of it up finding him.

"Are you, ah… are you going to be in trouble?"

She laughed again. Of course not. I just need time on the other side. Tell Jethro we're rooting for him. And Tony… it didn't even occur to him to let himself die so we could be together again. If it had, I'd head slap him for it.

Tony was quiet for a moment. "Does that bother you? That he didn't consider being with you, I mean?"

Absolutely not. He did think about it, a long time ago, and I'd have head slapped him then too. He needs to live his life, Tony. He's not done yet, not by a long shot. Besides… he'd be a pain in the ass to live with.

"He would? Why?"

Because he'd be missing you too much, silly. There was a pause, and then Shannon spoke again. Tony, he asked me to tell you he's sorry for not waiting for you at the scene… do me a favor?

"If I can."

Don't push him away for being an idiot.

Tony snorted. "Can I at least give him hell for being a stubborn, impatient bastard?"

Be my guest. Bye, Tony.

Her voice was so faint he could barely hear her. He took just a moment to contemplate the fact that he'd gotten used to talking to a ghost, and then the phone rang. He flipped it open and started running for the stairs. "Got that location for me, McTracker?"

Retribution

Gibbs didn't know how long he'd been sitting behind the crates and oil drums. He felt much better for having eaten the energy bars and drunk some water, but he'd still zoned out a bit. He tried to think about Shannon, and Tony, but he had trouble focusing and finally let his mind drift a bit, much like he had as a sniper while waiting for his target. He'd perfected the art of letting his mind wander while keeping his senses focused on the area, so that he could snap into full alertness any time.

He heard a noise, and looked up through a gap between drums to see Johnson coming through the door, looking around warily.

"No…. no, no, no…" Johnson ran to the Hummer, flinging the door open and practically diving into the car. Like I'd stay in there, Gibbs thought derisively. He held Johnson's long knife in his right hand, his own smaller knife in his left. He shifted a bit, getting into a crouch that would give him more leverage should Johnson approach his hiding place. He watched as Johnson backed out of the car and looked around wildly, then headed back to the door, running out.

Gibbs listened, but heard nothing. He waited a few more minutes, and then Johnson slammed back into the warehouse, cursing and running to his campsite. He looked around the floor and into the bag, letting out a frustrated snarl when he saw the knife missing. "Where the hell is he? He's ruining everything!" He reached under the pillow on his cot and pulled out another knife, twin to the one Gibbs held. Gibbs cursed himself for not having searched more thoroughly.

He watched as Johnson paced around the warehouse, muttering to himself. "Think! Think, Paul. You haven't lost one yet… this is your masterpiece, this is the culmination of all the hard work… you can't let him get away." He stopped suddenly. "Maybe he didn't. The drugs, no food, the cuts… he can't have gone too far. He could still be here."

Gibbs cursed mentally and got himself ready… he doubted Johnson was much of a fighter, but he could get a lucky slash or two in, and Gibbs was sure he himself wasn't up to his usual standard. He watched as Johnson went back to his cot and pulled out a little box from under the mattress. He opened it and removed a syringe. Things just got a little more complicated, Gibbs thought, remembering how Johnson had managed to inject the drugs back at the crime scene.

He shifted over a bit as Johnson started hunting for him, looking behind crates and boxes and in the Ford. He watched as Johnson came up empty and looked around the warehouse, his gaze falling on Gibbs' hiding place. He started to move purposefully in that direction. Here we go.

Gibbs got his legs just a little bit more underneath him, and waited until Johnson was just about the round the corner of the oil drums. Knife ready, he launched himself at Johnson's legs, throwing the man off balance and sending the syringe flying off into a darkened area near the wall. That's something, anyway. He slashed out with the knife, catching Johnson across the arm and side, causing the man to howl in pain and scrabble away. Rather than press forward, Gibbs backed off, waiting to have Johnson come to him. He watched the way Johnson held the knife as he got back to his feet; the man clearly wasn't much better with a knife than he was at tying knots.

Johnson looked at the blood running down his arm, then over at Gibbs. "Are you crazy? Look what you've done!"

Gibbs stared at him incredulously, then decided not to respond.

Johnson glared at him. "Get back in the car."

Gibbs couldn't help himself; he started to laugh. "You've got to be kidding. I'd do that why, exactly?"

Johnson made an impatient sound and started to move toward him. "I thought you understood, about my art."

"Oh, I understand, all right. Your art is supposed to be about getting back at your cousins… but all you've done is make yourself a lot worse then they were."

Johnson's face turned red. "How can you possibly say that? I'll make you pay now. Once you're back in the car, you'll know what it's like to feel helpless and in pain."

"Been there, done that," Gibbs commented. "Not really interested in a repeat."

Johnson ran at him, faster than Gibbs had expected. Gibbs got in another good slashing blow, but Johnson caught him in the side with his knife. It went in deep; Gibbs staggered a bit, then recovered his balance, backing away. Johnson was limping badly; Gibbs had hit him on his upper leg.

Johnson's face twisted into an ugly expression, and he raised his knife, moving toward Gibbs. Gibbs felt the blood running down his left side and onto his leg, and realized it was a really bad wound. His vision swam just a bit and he almost lost his balance again. He tried to stay focused on Johnson, but he could feel his legs starting to give out. He had to make the next attack count.

"NCIS! Freeze, Johnson!"

Gibbs didn't think he'd ever heard anything as wonderful as the sound of Tony's voice.

He kept his eyes on Johnson, who was standing and staring at Tony, slack-jawed, knife now held loosely and dangling at his side.

"Drop it," Tony snarled. "Now. Or don't and I'll shoot you. Your choice."

Johnson shook his head. "You can't. You're ruining everything."

Tony raised the gun just a little bit higher. Johnson dropped the knife.

"Face down on the ground, hands on the back of your head. Do it!" Tony barked out the last command, and Johnson complied. Tony took one hand off his gun and reached for his cuffs, shooting a quick glance at Gibbs.

"You okay, Boss?"

Gibbs nodded, or at least he thought he did. Things were getting really fuzzy. He felt himself falling, heard rather then felt the knives fall from his hands and hit the ground.

"Jethro!"

Then Tony was there, and Gibbs was propped up against him. "Aw, hell, Jeth. You're a mess." Tony sounded worried. Gibbs wanted to reassure him that he was fine, but he couldn't seem to muster up the energy to do it. He just leaned his head back against Tony and smiled a bit as he realized how good that felt.

"You're bleeding badly, but not gushing. You'll be alright. I saw Johnson coming in here, called it in to McGee. He and Ziva are on their way, and they've already called for an ambulance." Gibbs felt Tony's arm tighten around him and managed to move his own hand to grab onto that comforting arm. "We'll get you out of here and home safe soon."

Johnson looked up at that. "You can't. You can't take him, he's mine."

Tony laughed, a strangely humorless sound. "Watch me."

Johnson got to his feet. "No. He's mine. He belongs to me. I can't let you destroy my work." He started to move toward them.

Tony's gun came up. "Drop to the ground now, or I will shoot you."

Johnson shook his head stubbornly and kept coming, his eyes on Gibbs, that disturbing hungry look in them again. Still several yards away, he reached out toward Gibbs.

Tony fired. One shot, one hole on Johnson's chest, one spray of blood. Then another, only a couple of inches away from the first.

Johnson staggered back, staring at them both, an uncomprehending look on his face. Then his expression went blank, and he fell back, hitting the ground hard, eyes staring sightlessly up at the ceiling.

Gibbs could only think of one word… safe.

Tony laid his gun down on the ground, then wrapped both arms around Gibbs, holding him tightly, burying his face in Gibbs' neck. "Jethro," he whispered. Gibbs managed to raise his left arm up to run his fingers through Tony's hair. He felt a bit of pain against his side, and realized Tony had shifted his own leg over to press against the knife wound, putting pressure on it, slowing the bleeding. He felt Tony press a kiss against his neck, then felt Tony's body begin to shake a bit, and something wet falling onto his skin.

They were still holding on to each other when Ziva and McGee came in with the paramedics a few minutes later, Gibbs still gripping Tony's arm tightly despite having passed out.