His head hurt and he was hot, really hot. He took a deep breath and immediately started coughing. He could smell the acrid smoke, hear the crackling of the flames. Oh, no – he was in Hell. How had that happened? He wasn't that bad, was he? Sure, he played it free and easy with the women, but he never let any of them believe that he was looking for something permanent. He took them to dinner, or out dancing, and he made sure they were satisfied, more than once. He was a little self-centered and immature, but surely that wasn't damning, was it? Wait a minute, if he was in Hell, then that meant he was dead. If he was dead, that meant he'd be lying in a coffin. If he was lying in a coffin, that meant the last time anyone would see him he would have a buzz-cut. Their last vision of him would be with that God-awful buzz cut. He wondered if Ziva would pet him one last time.
Opening his eyes slowly, Tony looked around him. He was still in the warehouse, not the pits of Hell, but if he didn't get out of there soon he'd end up in some afterlife. Carefully testing his arms and legs he quickly discovered that he was pinned down. A heavy beam had fallen on him, pinning his torso to the floor. He was lucky that it had fallen with other debris, shielding him from the full weight of the wooden structure, but still effectively blocking him from moving more than a few inches. At least the wood wasn't on fire… yet. Coughing in the thickening smoke he felt a sharp pain in his chest, probably a cracked or broken rib, maybe several.
"Just great," he muttered.
"Hey," he yelled, "is anyone out there? Help! I'm trapped!" He listened for a moment, but didn't hear anything.
"Okay, Anthony," he said to himself, "looks like you're going to have to get yourself out of this." Briefly he wondered if Gibbs was still alive, but he shook his head to clear his mind of those thoughts. He had to help himself before he could do anything to help Gibbs, worrying about him wasn't going to do anybody any good. He shifted his weight, careful to not disturb the debris, maneuvering himself into position, allowing him space to push. Carefully, he reached up and pulled on a pipe, testing its strength and resistance, relieved when it didn't budge.
"All right, let's do this," he said, taking a deep breath and grabbing the pipe firmly. Placing the soles of his feet against the wooden beam, he pushed with all his strength, pulling on the pipe at the same time and ignoring the sharp pains in his chest. When he felt the beam give a few inches, he pulled hard, dragging himself out from under the beam which fell heavily when he stopped pushing against it.
Tony took a moment to catch his breath, but found that the smoke made that difficult. Holding his left arm against his chest to support the injured ribs, he levered himself up with his other arm, pausing when the blood rushing from his head caused the room to spin. He could hear yelling outside the warehouse and started picking his way through the debris to the exit, shielding his face from the flames that were starting to get out of control.
A low moan came from somewhere to his right. Looking over, Tony could see Seaman Stacey lying on the ground, his clothing blackened by the flash explosion. Tony stumbled over to the young man.
"Come on, Stacey," he said, coughing, "we have to get out of here." Tony pulled the injured man up and started dragging him toward the exit.
"Tony!" Ziva's voice tore through the smoke like a knife. She and McGee ran to the two men, McGee grabbed the limp body of Seaman Stacey and helped Tony drag the injured man to safety.
"What happened?" DEA Special Agent Markham ran up to the small group.
Tony slumped to the ground, coughing, activity swirling around him as agents rushed around and the fire department arrived.
"Stacey started to light a cigarette," he said, wheezing. "I tried to stop him, but it was too late. Did anyone else make it out?"
Markham replied, "It looks like Montoya and Ramirez made it with minor injuries. Wilson got hit by falling debris, he's dead."
"Where's Gibbs?" McGee asked.
"His cover got blown," Tony replied, standing up. He started to sway and grabbed the younger agent for support. "We've got to put a BOLO on Delaney's car. He and Burton took Gibbs somewhere to get rid of him."
"Where would they take him?" Ziva asked.
"They've been using office space in a strip mall over in Newport News," Tony replied. "We need to get there, I don't know how far ahead of us they are."
"You need to get to a hospital, Tony," McGee said, his expression concerned.
Tony shook his head. "No, we have to get to Gibbs before they kill him. He may already be dead."
"I'll drive," Ziva said, getting into the driver's seat. Tony got into the passenger side while McGee jumped into the back. The sedan tore off, followed closely by the DEA vehicles.
NCISNCISNCISNCIS
Gibbs struggled against the ropes binding his hands and legs, but the knots were strong and wouldn't budge. He couldn't tell where they were going, but they were no longer on the poorly paved roads that led to the warehouse.
He cursed his luck at having his cover blown and hoped DiNozzo wouldn't do something stupid to rescue him. He didn't think he could take the guilt and pain if the younger agent was injured or killed trying to get him out of trouble. Gibbs knew that no matter how angry Tony was, he would do everything he could to help his boss. His loyalty to his teammates was one of the characteristics that made Tony his best agent. He should have told him that. But no, he had to insist on living up to the second b of his name. Tony deserved better than the headslaps and digs. Ducky was right, he hadn't given Tony the respect he had earned and now there might never be an opportunity to set things straight.
"Snap out of it," Gibbs muttered to himself. "You have to be ready to move when DiNozzo gets here." The irony of his earlier accusation of Tony putting his teammates in danger wasn't lost on him. There was no way any of his agents were going to get hurt helping him out of this mess, not as long as he was breathing and conscious
The car pulled into an alley behind the small office the men were using as a drop-off point for money and supplies. Burton opened the trunk while Delaney held a gun, ready to shoot Gibbs if he caused any trouble. The young sailor dragged the agent out of the trunk and flung him over his shoulder, carrying him into the store.
"This is bad," Burton said, his voice panicked. "Now what are we going to do? You think the others are dead?" He threw Gibbs to the floor.
Gibbs grunted as he hit the ground; his head bounced off the floor causing him to see stars.
"Don't know, but it's gotta be on the tv news," Delaney said, going to the small television on the desk and turning it on. "We'll see how bad the explosion was."
"Explosion?" Gibbs said, his heart skipping a beat.
Burton was pacing the room, "We heard on the radio that there was an explosion at a warehouse, our warehouse. Probably the fumes, those chemicals are dangerous."
Gibbs lay back and closed his eyes. Explosion. Tony could be dead. Emotions flooded Gibbs' mind: guilt, anger, sadness. He had treated his best agent like dirt, ignoring the respect and admiration the younger man had shown him, all because he was confused and conflicted. Tony had always been so easygoing, had taken the reprimands and lack of praise in stride, knowing that his boss believed in him. Things might have been the same if Gibbs hadn't come back in such an abrupt manner, taking the team back as if Tony was never meant to lead them. He had given no notice, no explanation, he had just shown up in the office and reclaimed his desk as if nothing had happened.
Delaney had tuned into to a local station that had a helicopter circling the site of the warehouse fire. The building was engulfed in flames, at least five fire engines were at the scene.
"Shit," breathed Burton.
"We have to get back to our stations," Delaney said. "No one knows we're gone, we've got to pretend we don't know anything."
"What about him?" Burton waved at Gibbs.
"We'll kill him, dump his body in the Potomac." Delaney replied.
"You gonna kill a Federal Agent?" Gibbs asked calmly, still working at the ropes around his wrists. "They know where I've been," he continued, "they know I've been watching you and Wilson. When I disappear you'll be the first ones they'll come to."
Burton started pacing faster. "We have to run," he said nervously. "We have to get the hell out of the country, go someplace they can't extradite us."
"Yeah," agreed Delaney, "you're right, we can't stick around, but we can't leave any loose ends either." He raised his gun and shot Burton in the chest twice.
"He was always a liability," Delaney said to Gibbs. "It'll look like he was the one who killed you." Delaney pointed the gun at Gibbs' head. "That way, even if I do get caught, I won't get charged with your murder."
Gibbs stared steadily at the man, prepared to die.
Delaney swung around as the door burst open. Before he could shoot, he was tackled, his gun going off and shattering a lamp.
The room was immediately swarming with DEA and NCIS agents. Delaney was struggling on the floor, a very angry, very tired DiNozzo pinning him down. Special Agent Markham relieved Tony of his charge, handcuffing the lieutenant, while McGee cut the ropes off Gibbs' wrists and ankles.
"About time, DiNozzo," growled Gibbs.
"You're welcome, Gibbs," Tony replied, a tired smile gracing his face, just before he passed out.