A/N: Hey everyone, so sorry for the hideous delay. It sounds improbable, but mytwo-year-oldcousin threw my monitor against the wall and I've only just got my new computer up and running. Snaps for Windows XP!

Now, the following chapter is my first attempt at an actual climactic NCIS moment, so it may suck. Most of the stuff I write is character-driven so the actual physical specifics probably bite, but I would love you all to take a minute to let me know what you think. I can always re-write it.

I also apologise for the cliffhanger. Don't hate me, the next chapter will be up in the next few days.

Have I mentioned what angels you reviewers have been to me? My work would be nothing without you.

As always, I own Seasons 1-3 of NCIS and nothing more.

xx Lola

The team arrives at the dance studio to find Matilda standing at the barre, with twelve little girls sinking into plies behind her. Tony clears his throat loudly, and twelve tightly knotted heads swivel in his direction. Matilda does not. She lowers herself down into another plie, and continues counting in four four time.

He shivers, just a little. She is not counting in sync with the classical music spilling over the classroom, and her voice is pitched at a level usually reserved for speaking to the mentally unstable.

He takes a step forward. He does not wish to upset the girls staring up at him with Disney-wide eyes, so he coughs again and this time Matilda acknowledges the noise.

'Go away!' she cries, a little too hysterically.

The twelve children swivel to face their teacher.

'And why is that, Miss Graham?' He keeps his voice level, moves towards her.

She turns around, and he is completely caught off guard to find tears streaming salty paths down her cheeks. He takes a step forward, seeking to comfort her, but she shrieks and takes a step back into the mirrored wall, where she screams again in surprise at the contact.

He is not a profiler, but there is something, like a voice in his head, maybe even a trick he learned from a movie, in the room, in her eyes, spelling danger. The non-agent side of him momentarily panics, until someone he vaguely recognises as himself meets her red-eyed gaze and calmly assures her he won't hurt her. Gibbs steps around him and reasserts the fact, and McGee reaches slowly, surreptitiously, into his pocket for handcuffs.

'We don't want to take you into custody, Miss Graham. We need to ask you some questions. Would you let us do that?' Gibbs says, as calm as ever. He takes a step towards her, and she lets out a sob and shrinks further into the wall.

'Miss Graham?'

The voice comes out of nowhere, and all four adults turn to the huddled mass of pink tulle, in time to see one girl hesitantly step forward. 'Are you okay?'

Matilda, who is sobbing almost hysterically by now, turns away from the girl and slides down the wall. McGee moves forward uncertainly to cuff her slender wrists.

'I would not do that.'

A man's voice glides out of the wall behind them, followed by an AK-47 machine gun pointed directly between Tony's eyes. The drug lord Ziva led them to, Eric Granger, brings up the rear, along with a cell phone.

'Granger.' Gibbs greets him calmly, but there's a warning behind the tone and non-agent Tony's heart-rate elevates to unprecedented levels.

The man smirks. 'I see you've met my girlfriend.'

But the exchange that follows between the two men is an effective blur to Tony; it is as though the world has slowed down around him; an Edvard Munch or Marc Chagall painting too big and abstract for him to navigate. He watches Matilda, shaking with fear and a mix of emotions he recognises as similar to his recent own, as she peels her tutu off her pelvis and lets it drop to the floor. Around her waist is a metal belt, segregated by tubes of what he assumes is gunpowder. Three wires run from each tube to under her leotard. A cell phone connects them all together.

Bomb.

This is his only coherent thought as he slowly, purely on instinct, presses speed dial on the phone clipped to his belt.

He will wonder later why his actions were so instinctive, but deep down he already knows the answer.

He hears the distant sound of her answering, and turns to angle his hip so every word dripping from the mouth of Granger will be heard on the other end.

'I was not planning on your arrival, Agent Gibbs,' Granger says coldly. 'A rookie mistake, I admit.' He cocks an eyebrow. 'But it seems that now you're going the same way as these unfortunate children.'

He gestures behind him and for the first time, McGee and Gibbs are alerted to the bomb. Matilda is shivering, wide-eyed and frightened. Many of the girls are crying, others bewildered, and Tony goes to stand in front of them, if only so they do not see the scene unfolding before them.

Gibbs turns back, unnaturally collected. 'Why would you want to kill these children, Granger?' he says in a controlled tone.

A wall goes up in Granger's eyes. 'They deserve to burn,' he says. Matilda lets out a strangled cry, and Granger whips around to face her. 'Like your niece,' he says maliciously. 'You said she looked like my daughter.'

Tony's heart rate leaps before the trigger is pulled. Matilda cries out as the bullet pierces her skin. The blood begins pooling a circular stain into the fabric of her leotard.

'You see,' he continues, as though his girlfriend's arm has not been shredded three seconds earlier, 'I miscalculated. Finding a replacement for mydaughter was more difficult than I anticipated.'

The noise, so much noise, echoing through Tony' head is beginning to be unbearable. Heartbeats, terrified little faces, gunshots, Matilda's cries, all are screaming at him so loudly in his head it is a struggle to hear the disconnecting beep emanate from his phone. And just like that, because he knows she is coming, the noise, which he imagines drilling holes in his skull, is silenced.

'By my calculations, Agent Gibbs, there are about five minutes to go before that,' Granger indicates the now unconscious Matilda, 'goes off.'

'Did you kill her?'

He looks around to see where the question has come from, but sixteen pairs of eyes are on his face and he takes a second to figure out those four words came from him.

Granger tilts his head to the side abruptly. He smiles a smile so cold the temperature drops thirty degrees and Tony feels the familiar rise of Goosebumps on his arms.

'I'm assuming you mean the bitch's niece, agent?'

'Yes.' He feels a burst of anger. 'Her name is Lila.'

Again, the voice feels unearthly to his ears but he determines from the faces around him that he is in fact still talking.

'No. In fact,' Granger says, 'she's behind you.'

He freezes, and turns around slowly. She is in the back of the group and her face is contorted into a horrific expression that he recognises as fear. Tears cluster around her cheeks and she shrinks into the huddle further, as though he will hurt her.

He almost goes to reach for her, but Gibbs puts a hand on his bicep. 'Don't,' he says quietly, and Tony retracts his outstretched arm.

'What will it take for you to let us go, Granger?' Gibbs says calmly, although for the first time Tony notices a strain in the question. McGee moves behind Tony and shepherds the girls into the furthermost corner.

Granger's face hardens. 'I won't,' he says, using the rifle to indicate Matilda, 'after what the bitch has done.'

Both junior agents watch as their boss changes tack.

'I lost my daughter too, Granger. It's harder than you ever can imagine.'

Granger jerks his head stiffly away.

'This isn't the answer,' Gibbs continues. 'Killing these girls won't let the pain escape.'

And then the whole room freezes as a knock on the door penetrates the air.