Chapter 18
(A/N: Please be aware of some M content, with violence related trigger words. Intended to be sandwiched between Aliyah and Truth or Consequences.
Connecting
~~Post episode of Aliyah, 2009~~
Tony angrily strode out of the parking garage, furious that he had been sent home by Director Vance moments ago. Still, though, he couldn't blame Vance for making the call to send him home. Ignoring his car for the moment, he strode past it and out towards the city, where he could get some fresh air and think for a moment.
"Tony!" A ghostly voice called, seeming to come from without, yet sounded like it was inside his head, startling him out of his thoughts. It sounded very much like Ziva, who he knew had left abruptly in Israel, citing a conflict of interest, but her eyes betraying her back there. He turned sharply toward the voice and saw not a trace of Ziva. He shook his thoughts away and started walking again.
"Huh, thought I heard her back there," he muttered to himself as he walked on.
"Tony! Wait up!" A voice called out, this time louder, and closer-sounding.
"What?!" Tony stopped mid-stride and turned to look behind him. Suddenly, he heard the sound of a horn and squealing brakes, and turned sharply to face a van who'd come to stop inches away from him.
The driver leaned out of his window and yelled out to Tony, "Watch it, bub! Move it!" He held one hand out of the window and flipped him the bird emphatically.
"Tony, no!" McGee ran up to him. "Get out of the way," he said as he pulled Tony back onto the sidewalk. "What're you doing? You're acting all... weird back there." McGee had a baffled look on his face.
Tony scoffed at McGee. "What're you doing here, anyway? I said, I'm fine, I'll just go home and get some rest. I haven't been myself much lately. I can't explain any of it right now."
"Because Vance sent me to make sure you get home safely," McGee replied evenly. "Now, let's make sure that you do." He guided Tony back to the parking garage. "I don't want you slipping up and having Gibbs find out."
"Find out what?" Tony looked at McGee, who had a serious look on his face. "Oh. You mean, me and her."
"You got it. Don't be obvious, is what I guess I'm trying to say," McGee said as he smiled at Tony.
Tony let out an exasperated grunt. "Fine, I'll just head out to the beach house. Maybe a little time off for the night or two will do me good," he said to McGee, a bit deflated.
McGee patted Tony on his back. "That's the spirit."
~~Tony's Beach House~~
Tony opened the door and walked into the front room of the beach house, flipping the switch light on and dropping his bags near the doorway, then closing the door behind him. "Wish you were here, Ziva," he muttered to himself as he walked to the couch and slumped into it.
"Tony!" The same ethereal voice that he had heard before called out again.
"Whut?!" Tony sat bolt upright, eyes wide. He carefully listened for any signs of Ziva, but heard none. Suddenly, he felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him, and he doubled over in pain. "Ungh!"
"Tony-y-y-y!" The voice wailed again in his mind. "The drink!"
~~Somalia~~
Ziva lay huddled in a ball in the dirty cell, reeling from the blows her captors were raining down on her. She steeled herself the best she could, trying to protect her vitals, fighting against her greying consciousness.
"Where's the rest of your team?!" A rough voice bellowed out at close range, echoing throughout the cell, causing Ziva's ears to ring.
"D-don't have one," Ziva grunted against the blows.
"You lie!" A hard smack sent her head reeling sideways, and she blacked out.
~~Tony's Beach House~~
Tony staggered toward the kitchen. "Maybe I'll just get myself blind piss drunk so I can sleep for the night," he muttered to himself. His head was pounding, but this was different from the normal migraines he'd had on occasion. His vision doubled as he pulled the fridge door open.
"Get the drink!" The ethereal Ziva-voice called out to him.
Tony held up a finger. "Yup, on my way there, Ziva." Suddenly, he realized as he reached for his whiskey bottle that Ziva was not actually in the apartment. His hands closed on a bottle of drink and he pulled it out, looking for Ziva. "Ziva?" he called out.
The ghostly voice was plaintive, screaming, in his head. "Drink it!"
"Unh!" Tony staggered toward the counter, setting the bottle down hard on the counter, shattering it. "No! My whiskey!" he shouted as it spilled all over the counter. Grumbling to himself, he grabbed the trash can with one hand and swept the broken bottle into the can with the other hand. Fortunately, there wasn't that much left in the bottle to begin with, and he sighed in exasperation. "That was my favorite whiskey."
"The drink!" Ziva called out louder in Tony's head, causing his knees to buckle as a fresh round of pain seared through his back and stomach, causing him to grunt in pain.
~~Somalia~~
Ziva lay on the floor, nearly unconscious from the pain. Tears fell from her eyes as she tried to fight through the pain. Each blow caused her to retreat further and further into her mind, and she tried with every ounce of her mental strength to channel her mind to connect to Tony. "Tony, the drink," she whispered to herself, inaudibly, during a brief lull in the beatings.
"You'll tell me everything!" The goon landed a hard blow on Ziva's back, and she arched out in pain, screaming, and falling unconscious, and appearing to seize.
"Don't kill her!" A second goon called out, sudden concern in his voice. "He wants her alive."
The first goon let out a grunt and said, "I'm done with her for now, anyway. Let her lay there." He spat at her, then turned on his heel and marched out of the cell, his boots ringing on the floor.
As the second goon slammed the door behind him, Ziva finally slipped through the threshold in her mind and prodded Tony and screamed at him. "Get the drink! My tea!"
In Tony's beach house, Tony leaned on the counter, panting, his head pounding from the pain. "Help me, Ziva," he whispered weakly.
"The refrigerator! My tea!" Ziva's voice called out to him in his mind.
Tony turned to the refrigerator, staring at it blankly. "You have tea in there?" he muttered to himself as he opened the door. He saw a smaller container that had been behind his whiskey bottle. "I guess you mean this?" he muttered to himself as he reached for it.
Ziva's voice called out again, "Hurry! Goons are coming back!"
"Goons?! What're you babbling about in there?" Tony scoffed. "Guess it won't hurt to try this drink," he whispered to himself, then took a healthy swig, then managed to swallow only a small portion of it before the taste hit him. "God!" He spat the rest out. He had never tasted such vile-tasting drink before. "What is this stuff?"
"Don't fight it! Drink it!" Ziva's voice practically shouted in his mind, causing Tony to jump and look around, startled.
"Where are you, Ziva?" Tony could have sworn he could hear her plain as day, that time.
"O-o-o-o-w-w-w-w!" Ziva's voice howled in pain.
Tony had been walking to his chair, when he felt a massive spasm hit his back and buttock region, causing him to collapse in his chair and let out a loud pained grunt. "What's happening to me?"
Ziva's voice screamed in his mind. "He-e-e-e-lp! The drink!"
Involuntarily, as if prodded by Ziva, Tony slammed the rest of the drink down his throat, ignoring the utterly vile taste of the beverage. Dropping the bottle, he suddenly grasped his stomach as the pains struck him.
"Don't fight it!" Ziva's voice called out to him.
"Unh!" Tony let out a grunt as he allowed himself to lose consciousness to the pain. In the blink of an eye, he found himself standing in the middle of a dirty cell, looking at Ziva in her face. She appeared disheveled, beaten, bloodied, clothes torn to shreds. "Where am I?"
"Tony, you're here!" Ziva looked at Tony, a slight smile on her lips, a slight hint of surprise on her face, a huge amount of relief overlaid on top of it.
Tony looked around the cell, then back at Ziva. "How'd I get here? One moment I was drinking whatever horrible concoction that was sitting in the fridge, and the next I'm here in this dirty cell," Tony rambled on. "And what god-awful pain I've been feeling all day long. In my head, my back, and you don't want to know the rest."
"You drank my tea, good." Ziva walked closer to him, but got no closer than approximately ten feet. "What happened to you today?" Ziva's eyes peered deep into Tony's.
Tony shrugged. "Got sent home by the Director. I was not myself today. Acting out because I miss you. I don't understand why -"
Ziva cut him off. "I had to find a way to connect to you somehow. I had to use my reiki methods to try somehow. The tea helps."
Tony shook his head. "But why am I here?"
Ziva looked toward the door of the cell. "Find me. Before they kill me," she whispered.
Tony took a step toward Ziva. "Before who kills you?"
"No closer!" Ziva held out her hand, stopping Tony. "In this world, we cannot touch each other. No time to explain more – get help!" Ziva's voice sounded more frantic.
"Who do I tell?" Tony asked, then held up a finger. "Before I ask that, where am I exactly? You haven't quite answered the question."
Ziva held out her hands, palms facing Tony. "Look, we're in a different plane. Can't explain it very well. Send a message to Gibbs. Go with McGee," she said.
"And say what? That I saw you in my – mind, whatever," Tony struggled to find the right word, then continued, "and you passed a message to me? I can see that happening and Gibbs calling the nut house to have me locked up."
Ziva planted her foot and shook her head. "And you can't say it that way. But I'll help you – somehow – pass the message."
"But how?" Tony's voice fell silent all of a sudden as his eyes caught sight of a child standing in the corner of the cell. The child couldn't have been more than a year old. "Ziva, look," he said, slowly raising a finger to point to the child.
Ziva glanced to the corner. "A child," she whispered, her face crinkling in puzzlement. "Where'd she come from?"
"No idea," Tony muttered as he took a step closer and knelt to get a closer look at the child. The child looked hauntingly familiar to him, but he couldn't place where, or even if he'd seen the child before.
"Tony," Ziva said, calling Tony's attention away from the baby. "If you hurry, you may make it in time." Ziva reached out and her hand and took a step toward Tony. "But you face a great risk," she whispered to him.
Tony blinked as Ziva approached him. "What kind of risk?"
"I have to send you back. Send the message. No time to lose," Ziva said, as she gently pushed him backward.
Suddenly, as if a fast-forwarded movie started playing in his mind as he felt himself slipping backward through the plane out of Ziva's sight, he saw himself on a mission, being captured, finding Ziva, experiencing pain and disorientation. The visions faded as the world went black on him.
~~Tony's Beach house~~
Tony suddenly snapped out of his unconsciousness, finding himself on the floor. He sat up, gasping for air, noticing his head and body drenched with sweat. His nose stung, and he reached up and felt under his nose, and felt wetness. "Ow," he whispered to himself as he looked at his hand and saw blood from his nose.
He stood up woozily, his head reeling from the pain. His abdomen was sore from what he had felt. "Must go see McGee," he muttered to himself, his voice a hoarse whisper. He staggered to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked absolutely hammered, his hair askew, blood all over the front of his shirt. Grunting to himself, he pulled his shirt off and dropped it in a heap on the bathroom floor.
~~At McGee's house~~ leading this to the scene of "Truth of Consequences"
Eventually, after having somehow made it to McGee's apartment, Tony stood in front of McGee's door, alternating between ringing the doorbell, and knocking on the door. It took a few moments before he heard footsteps coming to the door, then the sound of the deadbolt being unlatched. The door opened to reveal a very surprised McGee. "Tony, what're you doing here?"
'Hi McGee, can I come in?" Tony brushed past McGee and walked into the apartment and slouched onto the small sofa.
McGee closed the door behind him and followed Tony. "Do you realize what time it is?" McGee blearily rubbed his eyes awake.
"No, do I care?" Tony scoffed at McGee. "Something told me to come here." Tony reached behind his head and scratched it, trying to smooth his hair into place somewhat.
McGee craned his head at Tony. "Is it something to do with what happened earlier at work?"
"No-o-o-o," Tony let out a drawn-out sigh. "Well, yeah, I guess in a way. Sorry for being a jerk earlier at work. Something's been bugging me, though. It's not normal."
McGee let out an exasperated sigh. "You need a rest. It's the stress getting to you. Besides, I can see that you miss Ziva."
"I don't want her to be replaced," Tony muttered.
"No one's going to be able to replace her," McGee said.
Tony scoffed. "Tell that to the old man. He seems eager to try to find a replacement. Not that any of 'em ever lasted that long, anyways." Tony tilted his head and screwed his face up in a bit of puzzlement. "You know, we always seem to break women in one way or another. Me and Gibbs. You ever noticed that?"
McGee laughed and clapped Tony on his shoulder. "Now that's the whiskey talking to you. You need to sleep, buddy."
"But I can't!" Tony protested. But he was sore and exhausted, and could barely lift a finger.
McGee smiled at Tony. "I know you can't. I'll make you some warm tea." He turned toward the kitchen.
"Sure thing," Tony said, before he yawned.
It took McGee only a few minutes, until the tea was done brewing. He poured out a cup for Tony, and brought it out to Tony, only to see that he'd fallen asleep on the couch, snoring lightly.
McGee chuckled to himself. "And I made this for nothing. At least he's sleeping now," McGee muttered to himself as he set the tea on the table next to Tony, and turned the lights off and headed to bed.
A/N: Dear Readers, I would like to say thank you for reading this chapter, it shall get better soon. With this, thank you for the reviews, tweets, messages, and kudos, more to come soon.