Hi, everyone! Wow! This turned into a REALLY long chapter. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!
Oh, yes. I know that some of you are very unfamiliar with NCIS, so I tried to be more detailed than normal on those characters. For your information, two weeks before these events, Tony DiNozzo almost died from an engineered strain of the bubonic plague. This is why he looks so terribly haggard. Normally, he's the hottest guy on CBS.
There is also some MAJOR tension…of the sexual variety…between Agents Kate Todd and Tony DiNozzo. FYI.
The young, slightly chubby Tim McGee, MIT computer wiz and relative NCIS newbie, was involved in a complex and delicate experiment, one that required the utmost concentration and stealth. Though he seemingly remained engrossed in his new issue of Wired, the makeshift tally nestled in his computer desktop indicated that his attention was truly elsewhere. Over the past hour, as inky night had fallen heavily in Panama City, he had, unbeknownst to his subjects, diligently kept watch over their behavior. It looked like his hard work was not in any sense fruitless.
It was Abby who had put him up to it. Tim marveled at the Goth's conspiracy-theory talents, the way she could put two and two together to come up with something crazy, like twenty-seven. This time, against the odds, she might even possibly be spot on.
In the last fifty-nine minutes, Tony had glanced at Kate a total of forty-two times. She, on the other hand, had snuck a peak at him thirty-nine times. And neither had noticed the other one looking.
Smirking, he started to type up a quick report for Ms. Sciuto.
"DiNozzo!" Tim jerked and quickly hit the 'minimize' button on his computer screen as Gibbs stormed into the room.
"It's midnight. I thought I told you to get some sleep."
"It's a bit hard to sleep when I can't go home, Gibbs." Tony snuck another glance towards Kate as he tried to sit straighter in his chair. Forty-three! Tim noted, mentally.
"You're two weeks off your deathbed, Tony. So, I don't care how you do it, but you'd better be sleeping within five minutes. Snoring and drooling."
As Tony moodily stood up, grabbed his coat, and walked towards the stairs to Abby's lab, Tim spoke up. "Why are we still here, Boss?"
Gibbs turned to him with a weary look in his eye. "Because," he started, glancing briefly at Tim's magazine…before Tim hastily pulled it off the desk and stuffed it in his top drawer, "F.B.I. Agent Fornell agreed to meet me here about the Colorado Springs case, and until I get the word from him that this is completely closed, I want my team ready to move on it."
"But I thought the President shut us out."
"Yes, that's why I'm assuming, until I hear from T.C., that our plans could change drastically at any time. If it involves the White House, it's hyper sensitive."
Tim heard Kate sigh as Gibbs left the room. Sitting and pulling up his desktop again, he updated the Todd-DiNozzo tally and hustled his report down to Abby via email.
"Jack!" Daniel ran down the greenish-grey corridor, mostly oblivious to the airmen and marines diving out of his way. "Jack! Jack!" He shoved open the door to the commissary and ran head-on into the person directly on the other side.
Brigadier General Jack O'Neill stood calmly as his tray was upended onto his BDU jacket, smearing mashed potatoes, corn and something resembling meatloaf all over the front. "Daniel! I was gonna eat that!"
Daniel didn't even pay attention as several surrounding officers stood in their attempt to clean off their commanding officer. Jack waved them away impatiently.
"We've found something, and it's a problem. A big problem, Jack. Come on. Sam and Teal'c are in the conference room." Without waiting for an answer, the archaeologist turned and ran back the way he came.
Dead-pan, Jack set down his tray, took off his soiled jacket, handed it to the nearest colonel, shook the gravy off his boots, and followed Daniel.
Once behind the closed doors of the briefing room, Jack dropped his placid demeanor and let into the archaeologist. "What was that all about, Daniel? This is a military base, not a football field. If you needed to talk to me, you could have paged me."
"There was not sufficient time, O'Neill, to allow you to reply to such a summons." Jack turned to look at Teal'c, who was standing by the side of the table, his shoulders and jaw unnaturally tense. Even for Teal'c.
Come to think of it, Carter looked a bit frazzled, too.
Jack looked from the fidgeting Colonel, back to Teal'c, and then to Daniel, who was busily spreading papers across the table.
"Yes, yes, I'm sorry Jack. This is just a really…big problem."
"You did mention that back at the ten yard line, Danny. Care to share?"
"Sir," Carter cut in. "We've got a lead on Jon's kidnapper, and it's not NID like we first thought."
Jack looked at her carefully, refusing to give into feelings of relief. If it wasn't NID, they weren't dealing with fanatics. On the other hand, Jon's fate could now be something much more sinister. "Then who ordered in the Seals?"
Daniel finally stopped shuffling the paperwork and looked up. "It's a Goa'uld, Jack. 'Zehuti' is a Goa'uld, and he's FBI."
"Jethro! Good to see you!"
"I'd say the same, T.C., but I'm a little peeved at you right now." Gibbs narrowed his eyes at Agent Fornell, lack of sleep evident in his pained look. Even in the dim lighting of the NCIS control room, it was easy to see that he was irked.
"Would that be why you asked me to come in at four in the morning?"
"Actually," Gibbs answered, walking down the steps, "I phoned you at ten. Usually, it doesn't take six hours to travel across town to the office."
"Yes, well, the Missus complained and I had to wait until she fell asleep to sneak out," smirked the older, beady-eyed and balding man.
"I would have thought she'd jump at the chance to kick you out of bed."
"Funny, Gibbs, funny. What's the urgent issue?"
Never one to sidestep, Gibbs walked up to the front wall of the room and eyed the glowing monitors that hung there. "Why did you send my team on the Colorado Springs case?"
T.C. looked at him for a moment, and then settled for studying the same image Gibbs had opted for: a lit map marking United States military bases. "Because I wanted it solved. What did you find?"
It was Gibbs' turn to study his companion. "Nothing. The President ordered it classified and gave the case to another team." He watched T.C. for any sort of reaction, but got nothing, save a slight hesitation.
"Which other team?"
"Air Force. Cheyenne Mountain Complex. A man named Dr. Daniel Jackson took charge. Are you saying you didn't know the President stepped in?"
Fornell was silent a little longer, and Gibbs could almost see him looking for a suitable answer. The NCIS agent began to feel uneasy. He had thought the T.C. had merely handed them the investigation before realizing that the CIA or military had other plans, but now he wasn't so sure. If that had been the case, his friend would have already known about the swap and Gibbs would have received an apology by now.
"What I'm about to tell you, Jethro, is classified. No spreading this around, okay?"
Gibbs simply studied him with a serious expression.
"I didn't tell you before I sent you, because we needed this to be believable. Dr. Jackson and his team are under investigation by the FBI for treason. We believe they have been working with the IND, passing secrets and protecting their American agents. We set a trap for them in Colorado Springs, and they took it by getting involved in Lieutenant Morgan's murder investigation. Their orders from the President were meant to help incriminate them, Jethro."
Gibbs' jaw had been slowly turning to stone during Fornell's explanation. "Let me get this straight. You sent me and my team into an operation – which, by the way, probably involved international insurgents – without informing us of the complete situation? You've got a lot of balls doing something that stupid, Fornell."
"I know, Jethro, and I'm sorry, but there was no other way. If they attempted to take the case from you, we would know without doubt that they were working for outside pay. Their MO rarely includes violence, so you were in no danger."
"What about this 'Jonathan O'Neill' kid? Was that staged, too? Lieutenant Morgan's death certainly wasn't fake."
The FBI Agent gave him a surprised look. "How did you know about O'Neill?"
Gibbs scowled. "We found some instructions on Morgan's body by a bloke named 'Zehuti.' They were to apprehend a seventeen-year-old Jonathan O'Neill after school that day."
Once again, Fornell paused and sighed. He'd begun to look rather weary. "No. We don't know who took the boy, or why. We don't even know why a Navy Seal was involved. All we've pieced together at this point is that O'Neill had ties to the IND, and that Dr. Jackson's group is now working out of government control to find him. We've got an intrigue on our hands."
Gibbs looked back to the map, his eyes lingering on the dot meant to indicate the Colorado Springs base. This wasn't adding up. There were too many unknowns, and it was unlike Fornell to operate in such backward, twisted logic.
"This is bull, T.C. Next time you send my team into an investigation, I want all the facts. They're a smart group, and they can handle anything, including renegades."
Agent Fornell threw him a hard look. "I did what needed to be done, Jethro. Now it is done, and we have what we need to bring the group to justice. You've done your part, now drop it."
"Drop it," Gibbs repeated with a touch of distaste on his tongue.
"Yes, drop it. Leave it alone and let the FBI finish the job."
For a few moments, Gibbs merely stared at him with a hard look on his face. Then, without saying a word, he turned and strode quickly up the stairs and out of the room.
As soon as Gibbs slammed the door shut behind him, Zehuti allowed his eyes to flash white in frustration. The SGC was not supposed to find out about O'Neill's disappearance, nor about Lieutenant Morgan's death. Though he knew the NCIS agent would do anything but leave the situation alone, especially after such a pitifully thrown-together explanation, Gibbs was now the least of his worries.
He was going to have to do something about SG-1 before Baal discovered his mistake.
Abby's straight black hair, pulled up into matching high pig-tails, bounced back and forth happily as she hummed "Zippity Doo Da" and put the final touches on her computer simulation of a white rabbit exploding after it swallowed a miniature C4 bomb. She'd read McGee's unofficial report after sending Tony to sleep on the floor behind her refrigerator, and was extremely optimistic that Operation ToNozzo (shortened from Todd-DiNozzo 'cause it sounded niftier) would soon yield über-amorous results.
In the meantime, however, she was going to both gross out poor Timmy and invoke major coworker jealousy with her absolutely phenomenal animation skills. Cute bunnies of the world, beware!
Hearing footsteps banging up the nearest stairwell, her eyes sparkled in their usual high-on-Caff-Pow way as Gibbs strode into her lab. "Hi, Gibbs! What's up?"
"Abby," he nodded. "Where's DiNozzo?"
"Oh, he's sleeping on Meow in the corner over there." Abby had given him her large, stuffed panther to use as a pillow.
"DiNozzo! Wake up!" Smirking down his sharp nose as Tony jumped and banged his head on the refrigerator, Gibbs moved so he was standing next to Abby. "Nice splatter effect, Abbs."
"Thanks, Gibbs!" Abby answered, shooting him a bright smile. It was always nice when talent was appreciated.
"Geez, Boss! Couldn't you have slightly nudged me or something?" Having slept only four hours, and still recovering from his bout of plague, he looked drunk as he staggered to his feet and rubbed his face with his hands.
"And where's the fun in that, DiNozzo? C'mon. Let's go get some coffee."
Tony glared at Gibbs through dark, shadowed eyes. "You woke me up to get coffee."
"Yeah. My treat. Kate's coming, too."
That seemed to give Abby's Italian metrosexual agent-buddy pause! "Okay. I'm in."
Abby smiled in a very evil way. Operation ToDozzo, commen…
Her thoughts were interrupted brutally when Gibbs shoved a piece of notebook paper under her hand. Looking quickly in his direction, she caught a meaningful and serious stare; he very clearly wanted her to take part in a highly clandestine maneuver. Biding her time until he and Tony had descended the stairs, she emailed her Bursting Bunny to a very unprepared Timothy McGee.
Retreating into the nearest broom closet (a.k.a. - the closest un-monitored area), she grinned wickedly. Secret missions were the coolest thing in the world!
"Walter!" Jack barked. Sergeant Harriman cringed as his superior officer burst into the control room. The General had just sent SG-1, with a contingent of Marines and a large amount of firepower, to investigate and curtail the newest Goa'uld Floridian invasion. Everyone knew that Jack O'Neill turned into the Devil himself when his old team faced the bad guys alone. Or, rather, without him.
Well, Walter mused, he didn't technically turn into the Devil. He turned into the Devil's wittiest enemy. Or pie's wittiest enemy…
Dropping this line of thought for more pressing matters he answered the general. "Yes, sir?"
"Have all available satellites scan for Goa'uld vessels."
"But, sir, they do that routinely. If they'd found something…"
"If they'd found something, Walter, I wouldn't be asking you to do this now. I don't want to take any chances. We've got a Goa'uld on Earth, and if he's got some way off it, or some buddy up there waiting for him, we need to know now. Not after he gets away."
"Yessir!" Walter snapped, already dialing the phone to NASA.
"E-Q-U-I-D-S. There. Equids."
"That's not even a word, Todd."
"Yes, Gibbs, it is. Mammals of the equine variety. Sixteen points, and I'm on a Triple Word square, so that's…forty-eight." She did some more addition and scribbled down her new score on the designated pad.
Kate grinned as Gibbs picked up his coffee and glared down at the Scrabble board sitting nicely in the center of Tony's oak coffee table. She had to admit, admiring DiNozzo's apartment yet again, that the man had more taste than tact. Oak furniture met sage green walls and khaki upholstery in a pleasant, clean way. Well, she figured his "lady friends" had to have some reason to dote on him like they did. Apparently, designer apartments were their weak spots.
Gibbs had all but dragged both her and Tony from the office in search of "coffee." Once in his car, however, he explained what they were really doing. They were going to Tony's apartment.
His meeting with Fornell had raised more questions than it had answered, and he detailed what the man had explained to him. In short, the FBI Agent had left him feeling uneasy and distrustful. So, he had given Abby a handwritten note instructing her and McGee to look up all the information they could find on Daniel Jackson, Colonel Carter, and…Murray…. He'd also asked them to look into Jon O'Neill's background and disappearance, as well as requesting that they pinpoint exactly who this Zehuti was, if possible.
It was a tall order, but it could only be done by hackers experienced with government technology. Officially, the two of them were "testing" the system. The other three agents would only be in the way, causing others to wonder what they were up to. Hence, they left the building for "coffee." This way, Tony could get some decent rest, and Abby and McGee would show up here with their results when they were done.
However, it had been three hours. Kate was beginning to wonder if McGee had finally lured Abbs into that broom closet….
The doorbell rang just as Gibbs triumphantly said "C-I-A," and laid the letters on the board.
"No acronyms, Boss," Tony slurred, rushing out of his room to get the door.
Clad only in his boxers.
…
His pink bunny boxers.
So much for taste.
Instead of helping the poor man out, however, Gibbs and Kate grinned silently as he pulled the front door open wide.
"Oh, Tony!" they heard Abby cry. "I didn't know you had a thing for rabbits!"
McGee followed with an impressively dealt dead-pan. "Did you know it takes less than an eighth of a teaspoon of C4 to blow up a rabbit?"
Dead silence followed while Tony closed his eyes and wished for the world to disappear. Without saying a word, and with his jaw set like a vice, he turned around, walked back into his room, and shut his door quietly.
As soon as he did, the remaining four agents broke out into wide smiles.
"That's blackmail material!" McGee commented happily.
Kate looked like Christmas had just come twice. "Tony DiNozzo, humiliated in bunny boxers. That moment is going to stay in my mind forever."
Gibbs saw Abby's and McGee's smiles widen even further, but only allowed himself a smirk. He might be a hardass, but he wasn't dumb – he knew what they were thinking.
"What do you have for us, guys?" he asked, changing the subject quickly.
McGee looked at Abby, who looked right back at him. They seemed to remember abruptly why there were here, and moved to the couch, unloading their mass of equipment from their shoulders.
"Boss, you won't believe this," McGee started.
"No, he will believe this! He set this up, remember! This is so cool, Gibbs!"
"Abbs!"
"Sorry, Gibbs. But, well, we'll tell you everything one piece at a time. Take it away, McGee!"
"Jonathan O'Neill is a ward of the Air Force. There's very limited information on his background, but nothing ties him to the IRA. Although, he has the exact same name as a General stationed at the nearest base."
"Yeah, and in a way, that supports Fornell's story," Abby continued. "Jackson, Carter, and their little friend Murray could have been falsifying his records to set him up as a mole in the U.S. Except," she smile at McGee, "Timmy here made the find of the millennium. Dr. Daniel and Colonel Sam are part of a very secret, very specialized government organization that deals with…get this…" she paused for dramatic effect and gestured towards her compatriot.
"Deep Space Radio Telemetry. Not something to get worried about, Boss, except that their work eats up ten times the budget any normal government science base would require, and uses about twenty times the electrical energy."
Switch to Abby. "And about every two months or so, the Cheyenne Mountain Complex has an emergency that requires half of Colorado Springs to either evacuate or go under quarentine. It's very X-Files…"
Switch to McGee. "She means it's strange, Boss."
Gibbs looked at them both carefully. "So, you're saying that Jackson's team, and probably this Jon kid as well, are involved in something screwy, but nothing that has to do with the Provisional IRA?"
"Right!" they both answered at the same time, with identical smiles on their face, but Abby with more enthusiasm.
"What did you find on 'Zehuti,' then?"
At this, Abby started to literally bounce up and down, and McGee clasped his hands in his lap so tightly they turned white.
"You wouldn't believe this, Gibbs!" Abby started. "Zehuti is…" she sang a little fanfare for suspense, "FBI Agent T.C. Fornell!"
"DiNozzo! Get your pink ass out here!" Gibbs had already grabbed his jacket and stuffed his gun into its holster. "We're going rabbit hunting."
A voice distorted by static sounded in the black van. "We've got activity, Colonel. Tan sedan, front side of the house. Florida plates. 456 MK3."
Sam adjusted her video surveillance system so they could see the car, and gasped. "Oh, criminy, Daniel! It's Gibbs!"
Daniel hurried to peer over her shoulder at the monitor and grasped her arm. "What are they doing at Fornell's house? Do you think they know? Do you think they saw us?"
"Based upon our last meeting with these people, DanielJackson, I do not believe they would willingly work with a Goa'uld. And judging by their continued persistence in approaching Zehuti's place of residence, they have not ascertained our presence."
"No, Teal'c's right." Sam sighed worriedly. "But they just walked into the snake pit and made our job that much harder."
Gibbs bit the inside of his lip as he knocked on T.C. Fornell's front door. He was pissed beyond belief, and truly hoped the man's wife was not here when they confronted him. He hated it when distressed spouses got involved.
He was also feeling distinctly watched. Which was why he left McGee and Abby in the car as backup.
"Hello? Jethro! Fancy seeing you again, this morning." Fornell sent an earnest look past the NCIS agent. "And…your team!"
"May we come in, Agent Fornell?" Gibbs asked in a clipped voice.
Looking a bit confused, but nodding nonetheless, Fornell moved to lead them into the living room. It was old-fashioned and dark, but the lace window coverings indicated a woman's touch. Gibbs grimaced in relief at Mrs. Fornell's absence, and when he was confident that Kate and Tony were in position, he cut to the chase.
"You wanna tell us what's going on, T.C.?"
To his credit, Agent Fornell looked duly surprised. "What do you mean, Jethro?"
"You know what I mean, Fornell. Or should I say Zehuti?"
In the following two seconds of silence, Gibb's long-time-friend-turned-suspect dropped his bewildered mask and donned a smirk. Tony and Kate placed their palms on the butts of their pistols.
No one was ready for what happened next.
T.C. Fornell's eyes glowed white, and he began to talk in eerie dual tones.
"You foolish Tau'ri! Your weapons are no match for my powers! Bow to a god!"
All three NCIS agents, eyes wide and on alert, pulled out their guns and pointed them at the suspect. Out of all the scenarios that could have taken place, this had to take the cake. What do you do with a scene from The Exorcist?
"What are you talking about, Fornell!" Gibbs countered. "We've got superior manpower. Put your hands behind your head!"
Instead of following Gibbs' orders, however, Fornell reached behind his be-planted end table and grabbed a gun…looking…thing.
Well, Gibbs thought, he did warn him. Aiming to hit his arm, he shot at Fornell just as the man brought up his weapon. Apparently, he wasn't fast enough.
"Kate!" he heard Tony yell as a bluish-white bolt of energy shot from Fornell's weapon and caught her in the chest. At the same time, the front door burst open in a flurry of activity, drawing Fornell's attention from the NCIS agents to the Marines flooding into the house.
"Hold your fire, Zehuti! We have you surrounded!" an angry Colonel Carter's voice called out.
Gibbs turned to find her, his gun still at the ready, registering that, though DiNozzo had instinctively knelt next to Kate, he was thankfully keeping a desperate aim on Fornell.
"I am not cowed by your puny weapons, Samantha Carter. I am a GOD! Kneel before me!"
Distantly, Gibbs wondered why Fornell seemed unaffected by the gaping hole his pistol had put in his arm. "Drop your weapon, Fornell!" he called out, making the split-second decision that Carter was on his side. At least until the situation had been diffused.
"You must drop your weapon, Zehuti, or you will die." Speaking with bone-grating finality, Murray was holding a long staff-looking…weapon?...on the other side of the room. Gibbs sincerely hoped it was a weapon. His FBI friend had gone from irritating, to contemptuous, to dangerously nuts in less than a minute. If this kept up, someone would have to take a mortal shot at him.
Fornell seemed to consider for a moment, and then carefully laid the electric gun on the floor, never loosing his smirk as he kicked the weapon towards Tony. Looking straight at Colonel Carter, he put his hands behind his head and spread his legs.
"Very well, Tau'ri. Come take me as your prisoner."
Gibbs set his jaw. The man had just switched from defensive to subdued, yet didn't manage to drop his smug, condescending manner. As the Colonel stepped up to handcuff Fornell, her gun still at the ready, he saw she had the same concern. However, from her position, she couldn't see something that Gibbs just barely caught a glimpse of.
"Careful, Colonel! He's got…"
In what seemed like slow motion, Fornell reached for Carter with his right hand, his left still holding an odd-looking device behind his head. Clutching the metallic object tightly, he pulled the blond towards himself, buckling as she shot him point blank in the gut. Before Gibbs could react however, Tony had jumped from his crouch and run towards the grappling couple.
"TONY!" Kate must have just come to; she'd been unconscious half a minute earlier. In the time Gibbs took to glance at her, however, he heard a loud series of swooshes and knew he missed something big. A bright white light caught the corner of his eye, and when he looked back, he saw a set of great stone rings ascending into the ceiling.
It took him a moment to determine that Tony was gone, no longer in the room. Gone with the bright light, with Colonel Carter, and with Fornell.
In a sudden rage, he turned a one-eighty and pointed his pistol at the man he knew was most likely to give him answers.
"Dr. Jackson, where is my agent?"
"Sir!" Walter yelled, running into General O'Neill's office. "We've got something! A Goa'uld ship! It's Baal!"
A loud crash ensued, followed by…
"For cryin' out loud! Why can't anyone just page me!"
AAAAHHH/jumps up and down at the angst/ (Is it okay for me to enjoy my own story this much?)
Well, there you go, everyone! A massive pre-Christmas gift from me to you! And...
Now Presenting: Some very long, yet important, author's notes...
+Yes, everyone! Following Walter's logic…Pie is the Devil! (Or the devil is pie…take your pick.)
+My condolences to anyone who loves rabbits. They kind of became a…recurring theme, and I couldn't help myself.
+Okay, there's a scene in the last episode of NCIS season two, where Abby lets Tony sleep on her lab floor. She gives him some sort of…stuffed animal to use as a pillow. It's a pig, or a hog, or something. And it farts when you squeeze it. So, whenever Tony moves his head, it makes a loud, uh, fart-sound. It was a tres humorous scene. However, I knew this particular gas-passing toy had a name, and I couldn't remember it. Couldn't even remember if it was really a hog. So, I turned it into a panther and pretended that's the way it was. So…that's the way it is.
+I didn't really get to watch NCIS as much as I wanted to last year, and I have absolutely no TV this year, so a LOT of info on these characters were made up. I know mostly…nothing…about FBI Agent Fornell, except for what he looks like, and that he married Gibbs' second wife. (He regretted it later.) Therefore, every personality trait I gave him is completely erroneous. Which is fine. 'Cause he's a Goa'uld.
+I've never seen The Exorcist. Just trailers.
+I made up the IND. Doesn't exist.
+Also, I'm a musician, not a scientist, so please don't take anything I said about C4 or exploding small mammals seriously. Most definitely don't try it at home. I don't even know what C4 really is…except that it makes a really cool, awesome BANG.
OKAY, everyone! See the button just below? HIT IT AND REVIEW! (I really like reviews…they make me smile. And constructive criticism, well that makes me grin like a gooney for weeks.)