Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters from NCIS.

A/N: I'm reposting this chapter because I really didn't like the ending, or how it played out. So I'm fixing this one up, posting it, then I'll post the next chapter. I'm making a personal vow to write one chapter a day, or at least work on the story every day. Since I haven't worked on Grace for… a long time, I'm sorry if any of the facts are out of order, or whatever. If anything's screwed up, please feel free to point it out to me, I don't bite. :P

Chapter 18

Tony squeezed his eyes shut. He was waiting for point of impact. It should have been instant; he should have felt no pain. Just blackness.

Instead he opened his eyes, seeing Shane Rothman in front of him. He took the gun away from Tony's head and started laughing.

He pulled the magazine out of the bottom of the Sig, throwing it in Tony's direction. Tony could see that it was empty, he'd been bluffing. He looked up at Rothman, who pushed the door open and stepped outside, fastening all the locks so that Tony was once again trapped inside.

"You bastard." He said, looking up towards the small barred window.

Rothman laughed once more, "See DiNozzo, it isn't nice to be played, is it? It could end in… life and death."

Tony could hear him walking away from the cell, dragging a chair closer to the door and a thump as he sat down.

"I bet you're curious about what Caitlin Todd has to do with all of this," he said, without waiting for an answer, "She was the NCIS agent assigned to investigate Ebony Miller's disappearance, she was the one to break the news to Rachel Miller when they found the body. After that the case was taken away from NCIS, to be handled by the FBI. Or so they said. It sounds like the FBI knows more than they're saying and they wanted the case for themselves."

Rothman paused; Tony could hear the chair scrape back as he got up, he could hear the beep of a cell phone turning on, then more beeps as Rothman punched numbers into the keypad.

"It's time," he said into the mouthpiece, Tony could hear him talking to someone on the other end but he lowered his voice so that Tony couldn't hear. There was a beep then a click as Rothman cut the connection, closing the flip phone.

He moved toward the small barred window and looked in. Tony was still propped up against the wall, still clutching his left arm where the slug had entered. He was sweating profusely; his eyes open to slits as he struggled to stay awake and conscious. "Pathetic." Rothman muttered under his breath, too quiet for Tony to hear.

Tony started shaking again, the cell was deathly cold and it didn't help that Tony had a gunshot wound. His eyes drifted shut and he slumped against the wall.

Suddenly, Shane Rothman's voice boomed through the cell.

"What's that?" Rothman shouted, undoing the bolts on the door and flinging it open. Tony sat up straight at the shock of being awoken like that, shifting backwards against the wall as Rothman approached him.

He remained silent as Rothman reached down to a silver object Tony was holding in his hand. It was Ebony Miller's necklace, in his daze and confusion Tony must have taken it out of his pocket, yet he couldn't remember doing it.

Rothman snatched the necklace from Tony's hand, holding it up close to his face so he could see it properly. The silver necklace and "E" charm shone in the dim light that entered through the iron door.

"How did you get this?" Rothman demanded, pointing the pistol at Tony again. Tony didn't move, the pain in his arm was too intense. Rothman shouted the question again, but got no reaction from Tony. He stepped forward, raising his arm to strike Tony with the butt of the pistol, but suddenly paused in mid-swing.

He stepped back, a wry grin spreading across his face, "It was Caitlin, wasn't it?"

Tony looked up, his eyes barely open as he struggled to stay conscious.

"I'm not telling you anything."

Rothman shrugged, "Maybe not yet," he lent back against the door, blocking any view of whatever lay outside the cell, "How about I throw a hypothetical at you? Let's say that Caitlin Todd was investigating little Ebony's disappearance, she got a tip from somebody that there was evidence relating to Ebony's disappearance, oh, let's say, a locker at a train station. But the catch was that the person who got the tip from wasn't talking anymore. That could cause a few problems, don't you agree?"

Tony knew it wasn't a hypothetical, Rothman was playing him.

"Cut the crap, Rothman. We both know what's going to happen to me." Tony said.

Rothman looked at Tony, seeming to consider what Tony was saying, "So, basically you want me to tell you everything?"

Tony started coughing, the pain becoming almost unbearable. But he didn't want to give in yet, there was too much at stake.

"You know, I think you're right. You're not going to last long, what's the harm?" Rothman slid down the wall, leaning against it as he twirled the pistol in his hand. The safety was still off, Tony noted, although it did little to instil confidence in him.

"Alright then, where should I start?" Tony watched him as he pulled the cell door closed behind him, then began pacing slowly.

"Ebony Miller," he began, "Cute little thing, a little blonde angel. The typical kid that's good at everything." The corners of Rothman's mouth twitched slightly, causing Tony to bunch his fists in disgust.

He ran a hand through his hair, the vile grin on his face gone. "I know what you think of me, and I know what you think I did. But I swear I did not kill that child. I couldn't harm a hair on her head."

He went silent, his eyes clouding over as if he was thinking back. Or trying to remember something. He paused for a few minutes, remaining silent until Tony wasn't sure if he was going to speak again.

"So what happened to her? In your own words, of course." Tony asked, saying the last part in a bitter, sarcastic tone he'd heard Ziva use a few times when interrogating a suspect. It didn't seem to affect Rothman though. His confident composure was all but gone as he resumed the pacing.

He cleared his throat, "That I can't tell you. Not that I don't want to – I do. But I have my priorities, and one of them includes my daughter."

Tony drew in a breath, the cold sweat spreading over his body a clear indicator that he was close to passing out. He pushed himself against the wall in an effort to stay conscious.

"Meaning what, exactly?"

Rothman smiled, "Grace is very important to me, and I have to protect her."

Tony clenched his jaw as pain shot up his arm again. "Meaning what?" he repeated, Rothman's lack of information irritating him.

"Meaning…" he said, shooting an irritated look of his own at Tony, "…that Grace might not be talking, but she knows… things. I'm sure of it. She can't be blamed for this, she's just a child."

He sighed, stopping his pacing. "It was my fault."

Tony opened his mouth to reply, when the blackness began to overcome him.

The last thing he saw before he blacked out was Rothman raising his weapon, then the deafening sound of a gunshot, and a spray of pink mist covering the walls and floor around him.

R&R!!