Chapter Six
Whatever Tony was expecting of the person who got him into this mess in the first place, it certainly wasn't Margaret Colson. In the first place, with shoulder length golden brown hair and soft doe-like eyes, and dressed in a simple skirt and blouse outfit, she looked as if she should be mothering two to three kids and being an active member of the local PTA, instead of running around with hoodlums like Carl Gatley. Then again, Tony knew first hand how misleading appearances could be.
And despite being altogether prepared to experience some small measure of anger, or at least extreme dislike, towards her, Tony was surprised when all he felt was a burst of pity for the young woman. Perhaps it had something to do with her looking so decidedly despondent and uncomfortable sitting there all alone in the stark room. For a fleeting moment, he even wondered if the police had brought in the correct person.
Quickly dismissing the thought, Tony leaned forward with a frown, studying whatever feature of her face that he could see through the observation window. There was something vaguely familiar and intriguingly unsettling about the woman but, for the life of him, he couldn't figure out what it was. Turning away from the opening that looked into the interrogation room, he met Detective David Chen's dark intelligent eyes. "Has she said anything?"
The detective shook his slightly tousled head, his expression thoughtful. "Not much. She has, however, declined representation, although we've yet to charge her with anything so far. And apart from asking to speak to you personally, and only with you, Colson hasn't spoken another word since we brought her in."
Leading Tony to the door, Chen paused and studied the lean NCIS agent before him, allowing his disquiet at how pale the man was to show. The only current visible colour on Tony's face was the fading bruise on one side of his chin and the dark circles under his eyes. "You ready for this?"
"Yeah," Tony answered absently, his mind already on the upcoming meeting with his accuser. When the detective didn't open the door right away, he looked up impatiently, meeting the concern in the other man's gaze with narrowed green eyes.
"You're sure you're okay?" Chen frowned. "You look a little–"
"I'm fine," Tony interrupted tersely, looking away from the searching eyes to stare doggedly at the door before him. Instantly regretting his brusque tone, he gave his face a tired scrub before continuing in a quieter tone, "I'm sorry, I've not been getting much sleep lately."
If Chen had any thoughts on that, he prudently chose not to voice it, saying instead, "Okay. I'll be listening on this side."
With a nod, Tony opened the door to the interrogation room and stepped through.
O o O o O o O
Gibbs gritted his teeth briefly in exasperation when the shadow passed by his table yet again. "What is it, Kate?"
"He's been gone quite some time."
"DiNozzo can take care of himself," Gibbs answered levelly, his eyes remaining steadfastly on the document in front of him. As Kate wandered back to her desk, he stole a quick peek at the time. She was right, though, it had been several hours since Tony left for the station. Normally, he wouldn't worry about his absent agent, but Tony hadn't been himself lately and the truth be told, he was getting more than a little worried himself the longer the hours dragged by.
Making up his mind, Gibbs stood up and grabbed his jacket. "Keep looking through those records," he ordered as he passed by Kate's table.
"Where are you going?" she called out after him.
"Out."
Kate nodded and then said softly to herself, "I hope when you find him, you'll have better luck getting him to talk than the rest of us…"
Damn, either Kate's getting really good at this or I'm becoming way too predictable in my old age… He knew the softly spoken plea was not supposed to be for his ears but he heard it anyway. Although he didn't show any reaction to Kate's accurate guess, Gibbs inwardly shook his head as he strode grimly out of the bullpen.
O o O o O o O
"Call if you need anything… Anything at all, okay?" Abby reminded him, with unusual solemnity, just before he left.
"I will," he responded with a lighthearted cheerfulness that he didn't feel, capping the entire act with an over-wide smile and a jaunty salute.
Now, as he sat in the driver's seat of his car, still parked at the edge of the visitors' lot, Tony was suddenly very tempted to do just that, even if it was just to hear a friendly voice – something, anything, to counteract the disconcerting experience he'd just had. He'd seen so much, first as a cop, now as an NCIS agent, but every once in a while, he was still both equally intrigued and appalled by a person's capacity for malevolence.
Why do people do the things that they do? It'd never ceased to amaze him what some of these people were capable of, in particular for the pettiest – even worse, the dumbest of reasons – especially under certain given circumstances.
There was one thing he knew though, things without question looked and felt decidedly different on this side of the fence.
"So I heard that you're an … NCIS special agent…?" she asked after Tony had introduced himself. She waited for his nod before continuing, "And what is that exactly? Some special branch of the CIA or something?"
"Or something," Tony replied in an even tone, not bothering to elaborate his answer any further. Seated directly across Margaret Colson, he laced his fingers loosely in front of him on the table, his entire person deceptively relaxed, and eyed the woman in front on him with open curiosity. "Do I know you, Ms Colson?"
"Not really, but I know you, Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo," she replied with a smirk, twirling a lock of golden brown hair with one long, perfectly manicured finger. She met his stare without blinking. "And please, call me Margie. Ms Colson is way too formal while Margaret… well, it is just so very old-fashioned… don't you think?"
It completely threw him off then; that cold calculated look that had appeared so out of the blue in her light brown eyes, lurking ever so subtly beneath that light flirtatious manner of hers. Suddenly, she didn't look so dispirited or misunderstood anymore and a flash of clarity hit Tony as he continued to gaze intently at her.
"Like what you see?"
"Why?" he bit out the question, ignoring both of hers, his own eyes hardening. She might look it, but Margaret Colson was definitely no innocent and he wasn't about to start treating her like one, no matter how much he was tempted to.
"Why not, Agent DiNozzo? Or can I just call you Tony?" she smiled coyly at him. When he didn't react, or answer, the slim brunette crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, her own smile fading from her face. Stonily, she eyed him with a measure of distaste. "I got caught, Carl needed a name, and you were the perfect one."
His expression never changed. "Perfect one?" he echoed, one eyebrow arching upwards.
She sighed, an absolutely bored look coming over her delicate features. "You had the looks." Again, she gave him another appraising look. "But better yet, the reputation..."
Tony fought the urge to break eye contact, and met her knowing smirk and predatory look steadily. "So you told Gatley that we slept together," he finished, his voice giving none of his feelings or thoughts away.
Colson shrugged, and then said with a bitter smile, "Had you paid me more attention instead of giving the bartender instructions on how to make your stupid drink that night, that could have happened…" She leaned forward and murmured, "You know, Handsome, it was kinda like killin' two birds with one stone – Carl got someone to vent his anger upon, and I got my payback. I believe some people call that… poetic justice…?"
Leaning back against the headrest, Tony pressed the heels of his hand to his aching eyes and sighed tiredly, feeling physically and emotionally drained. Despite the sharp bitter taste of revulsion in his mouth, however, he was relieved to get some part of this entire nightmare resolved. A sharp harsh bark of humourless laughter escaped him as he considered the irony of the whole situation. Who would have guessed that when he took a social break, it would get him into so much trouble?
When Colson had mentioned the making of the drink, Tony suddenly realised why she'd seemed so familiar to him at first – they'd met once, briefly. He'd been talking to Jack at the bar, debating over the ingredients of a particularly complicated concoction, when the woman had slid up to him and had attempted to chat him up. And she certainly wasn't shy about letting him know exactly what she wanted from him that night.
Only Margaret Colson hadn't looked anything remotely like the Margaret Colson that he'd just spent almost an hour talking with in the interrogation room.
On the night of their initial meeting, her hair was long and blond, and she had on a short black dress, an outfit so tight he remembered marvelling at her ability to draw breath while being in it. He might not be a novice when it came to women but she managed to get his cheeks flaming in that short amount of time that he was in her presence. And the only thing he got from declining her blatant invitation was Jack's disbelieving look and a healthy dose of the bar owner's droll wit for the remaining of the night.
"That's it?" he asked incredulously, his tone icy. "I turned you down that one time and you send your boyfriend to pound on me?" He shook his head. "That's definitely some twisted sense of justice you've got going there…"
To her credit, Colson flushed at the cold accusation. "All Carl saw was the guy's back when the idiot ran naked out the back door. He demanded a name and yours came to mind." She lifted one slim shoulder. "Look, I didn't expect Carl to react the way he did. In the past, all he'd do was to yell a lot before going out to get drunk."
"He was drunk," Tony said flatly. He allowed the fact to sink in a moment before asking, "So why request this meeting, Ms Colson?"
This time she didn't object to the formal usage of her name, saying instead, "Despite how it might appear to you, Agent DiNozzo, I love Carl. And he's in this because of me. Because he loves me."
"And you're telling me all of this because…?"
She licked her lips, suddenly pensive. "I need you to understand why he did what he did…"
Tony shook his head. "Whether I do or not doesn't make a difference–"
"Yes, it does," she disagreed, leaning forward once more. "Carl's a dangerous man when crossed, Agent DiNozzo. You wouldn't want to do that."
"I'll take my chances."
His guard went up almost instantly when she gave him a speculative look for a moment before her full lips curved into a seductive smile. Lowering her voice till it was a mere whisper, ensuring that no one but Tony could hear her, Colson held his gaze as she murmured, "You know, if you help by dropping the charges, l could make it so very worth your while…"
Their conversation wound up not long after that, and Tony had walked out of the room, feeling to some extent physically ill and, after a brief meeting with Detective Chen, he'd all but stumbled out of the station and into his car.
During their discussion, he'd passed on Colson's 'offer' to Chen, though not in her exact words. Looking in equal parts unconcerned and amused, Chen had assured him that it was only a matter of time before they caught up with Gatley, but Tony was only half listening to the detective, nodding every so often at what he hoped were the right moments. All he could think of doing at the time was escape – he just wanted to get away from the suddenly suffocating atmosphere of the building.
Chen must have sensed his inner turmoil and uneasiness because he kept their conversation short and concise, and while he didn't ask again, Tony caught the flash of concern in his dark eyes as he said his goodbyes. For a moment, Tony considered telling the man that he was fine one more time, just to set his mind at ease, but decided against it – he wasn't entirely sure himself that he was all right at the moment.
And there lay the incongruity of it all – he'd been saying it for so long to everyone that he wondered if he was beginning to believe the lie himself.
Running a weary hand through his light brown hair, Tony was reaching forward to start the car when he heard it. The subtle click of a gun being cocked from the back seat – the soft sound abominably loud in the surrounding silence – and he froze, eyes widening slightly.
"You're turning out to be more trouble than you're worth, DiNozzo," a voice hissed into his ear and Tony's breath caught in his throat. Gatley…
Before he could react, there was a sharp, intense pain at the back of his neck and then everything went black.
O o O o O o O
He barely slowed his speed as he flipped the cell open. "Gibbs."
"Special Agent Gibbs, this is Detective David Chen." The voice on the phone was low and even, but Gibbs could sense the underlying currents in it.
"What can I do for you, Detective?" Gibbs asked, his other free hand expertly guiding the car through the heavy traffic. "What? … When? … I'm on my way." Ending the call, he quickly punched in another number on his cell. "Kate? Meet me at the precinct downtown immediately. Carl Gatley just contacted Chen. He has Tony."
A/N: To those who've taken the time to read and review, this chapter is for you. :D l'ilmissnitpick: Terribly sorry about the lack of Tate (there are very, very vague hints, though… did I mention very, very vague?) but this story has more to do with friendship, especially between Gibbs and Tony. Hope that won't disappoint too much. :) morourke: Great catch there. Answers to your questions coming up soon!