Author's Notes: I know the last few chapters have been really rough on some of you guys, so to make up for it I'm doing something unusual. I'm going to post two chapters today! They are both really long, but I want you to get some relief from the situation, and I couldn't figure out a way to combine it into one chapter. So here you are!
Thanks for your continued support of the story; you're comments give me courage and inspiration.
WARNING: BDSM, non-con, dub-con, slash, kink. Do not read if these subjects offend you.
Chapter 19
Gibbs' skin felt like ice, and he didn't understand why he couldn't get warm. It was pitch dark, and all he could see in front of him were whispy trails of his own breath swirling in circles. He was breathing hard, gasping like he'd run for miles, and for one of the few times in his life he felt the suffocating grip of fear in his heart.
He clutched his Sig in his hand, comforted by the familiar weight of it, and inched forward around the corner, unsure of what he would find or even what he was looking for. Discovering nothing but more darkness, he cautiously moved ahead. He was frustrated by the all encompassing black that prevented him from seeing anything. Turning around for a sign of which direction to go, he noticed a sliver of light on the far side of the room. Slowly, gun extended in front of him, he approached the soft glow.
Who was he searching for? A suspect or a witness? He wasn't sure, but he knew he was looking for someone, and he needed to do it quickly. Glancing over his shoulder he wondered why Tony wasn't there backing him up, and then he remembered…Tony was gone. He'd been gone for months and they'd never found a trace of him. Gibbs had let his senior field agent down, hadn't protected him, and DiNozzo was lost to an unknown circle of hell that was far beyond their reach.
His foot slipped and he looked down, noticing something wet and sticky. Blood - a small pool of it that trailed ahead of him into the other room.
His heart pounded in his chest and he stumbled, catching himself before he fell in the slick substance. With trepidation he gripped his gun tighter, and forced himself to carefully move ahead. There was a dim light in the next room illuminating a table and a cot with a body on it. The blood trail continued over to the table and Gibbs followed as if drawn there by unseen hands. The frantic staccato of his pulse thrummed in his ears, drowning out any other sounds as he approached the grisly discovery.
All his years in the military and investigating crime scenes didn't really prepare him for the gruesome display. Dark red blood sluggishly drained off the table, leaving a puddle in the floor. On the surface lay a butchered and unmoving heart, ragged edges indicating the savage brutality used to hack it out of someone's chest. Gibbs stood frozen, afraid to move and see who had been the victim of such a cruel and vile act of murder.
In his own stuttering heart, he already knew the owner of the quiet organ, and that suspicion compelled him to look. His eyes misted over and he turned his head to see, unable to ignore the lifeless body next to him. A sob tore from his throat when he saw the dull green eyes with no spark left in them, and the gaping hole where the once proud heart had been ruthlessly ripped out.
"Tony." He said the name like a plea, and for the first time since Shannon died he felt the rush of hot tears on his cheeks as he knelt by the bed and picked up the cold hand, bringing the long fingers up to rest against his lips.
Never again would he hear the sound of Tony's laughter, watch him saunter into a room and immediately become the center of attention, feel the soft down of Tony's hair under his own calloused hand. So much time wasted for the sake of pride and foolishness. He could feel his own heart shatter and break apart inside his chest.
A low throated chuckle interrupted him, and he glanced up to find Nakamura standing at the foot of the bed wearing a crimson covered smock. He threw back his head and cackled, eyes wide with insane glee.
"He cried for you, Gibbs. Begged for you to save him." The Asian tilted his head in mockery of DiNozzo's dying words. "Gibbs…..Boss…..please…..I love you." Nakamura giggled petulantly. "Of course, you arrived too late, didn't you, Boss? In the meantime, he and I got to have a really good time together." Nakamura raised a bloody knife in his hand and turned it around so Gibbs could see every angle of the weapon that had destroyed Tony's life.
Rage scoured his veins with white hot intensity that obliterated all logical thought. Instinctively he lifted his Sig and pointed it, aiming and squeezing the trigger in one fluid movement that required only seconds to complete. Nakamura's mouth opened silently, but before he could utter another sound the bullet pierced his forehead and blasted out the back of his skull and he dropped to the ground with a heavy thud.
Gibbs turned away before the body hit the floor, already disregarding the inconsequential man. His attention rested solely on Tony, who was completely beyond his reach; who would never know just how deeply he cared. He picked up the hand again, letting his tears fall without any concern for the weakness it revealed. It didn't matter now.
"Oh, God, Tony, I'm so so sorry. I'm so sorry."
"Gibbs." It was suddenly dark again and someone was shaking him. "Wake up, Jethro; you're having a nightmare."
He blinked, and instead of seeing Tony's blank green eyes he saw Ducky's rheumy blue. "I know you need to rest, but you were dreaming and well….." The ME paused and handed Gibbs his soft white handkerchief. "I thought you might want to waken before the nightmare progressed any further."
The lead agent could feel the wetness on his cheeks and realized he'd been crying in his sleep. He wondered what else he'd mumbled while the elderly doctor had sat by his side listening. With a quick nod of thanks, he used the handkerchief to wipe at his face and handed the cloth back to Ducky, who discretely folded it and tucked it in his pocket.
With a hand that was much firmer than what his years would indicate, Dr. Mallard gently helped Gibbs sit up on the autopsy table that he vaguely remembered falling onto the night before after arriving back at headquarters.
"How long have I been here?" Gibbs asked, stretching the kinks out of his neck and back. The unforgiving slab of steel wasn't the best place to rest, and his body was aching in agreement. Despite the nap he felt restless and unsettled.
"About twelve hours."
Gibbs' head jerked up in alarm. "What? How could you let me sleep that long? I have to….." He stood up ready to take off and do something, although he couldn't say exactly what.
Ducky placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "You are of no use to anyone dead on your feet and unfortunately that was the case last evening. Besides, Abigail and Timothy are handling things quite nicely; there wasn't much you could do to assist them unless you have gained some advanced computer knowledge beyond unplugging one that doesn't do as you require." Gibbs' longtime friend folded his arms and raised his eyebrows questioningly.
The lead agent knew Ducky was right, but he didn't have to admit it, so he only grunted in response.
"Just as I thought," the ME concluded. In a kinder tone, he asked, "Would you like to talk about your nightmare? I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but unfortunately there isn't much in the way of privacy here. It did seem quite upsetting."
Gibbs instantly pulled up the image of Tony's bloody form lying on the cot. He'd never been much for interpreting dreams, he left that mumbo jumbo to Abby and his second wife, but he wondered at the significance of the manner of death. In truth, he had been the one to callously rip Tony's heart out, not Nakamura. If he never found DiNozzo and set the record straight, he would live with that guilt the rest of his life.
"I need to go see how the team's doing," he said stiffly, ignoring his friend's question and hoping Ducky would forgive him the rudeness. As usual, the doctor handled his less than stellar communication skills with aplomb.
"Of course. Hopefully they will have some news for us regarding dear Anthony's whereabouts."
Gibbs strode toward the autopsy room doors. "Palmer," he called loudly. "You can come out now!" He walked through the sliding glass and straight to the elevator, where the doors opened immediately as if expecting him.
Palmer stuck his head around the corner of Ducky's office where he had been hiding out of sight. "How did he know…" the question trailed off at the end.
Ducky just smiled enigmatically and shrugged, getting back to the work at hand.
NCISNCISNCIS
Even though Gibbs wanted to hear what McGee and Abby had found on the computers they had brought back from the compound, the need for coffee took precedence over everything. Besides, he had worked with his team long enough to know that if anything significant had been uncovered they would have already told him, even if it meant waking him up. Abby attributed his arrivals at the moment she came up with pertinent information to magic, but it was more a sixth sense regarding how much time had passed and how difficult the task was to complete. In his gut, he felt they needed a little more time, regardless of how the waiting only added to the sense of anxiety rolling deep in his belly.
In one hand he clutched his extra large black coffee and in the other he held a super-sized Caf-Pow for the girl who had come closer than anyone else to replacing the child he had lost. He'd make a quick trip by his desk to grab any messages that might have come in and see if Ziva had found anything useful, and then he'd head down to the lab to find out if there had been any progress.
Stepping out of the elevator, he barely had time to walk across to the bullpen before someone yelled his name and enveloped him in a bear-sized hug. The Caf-Pow jiggled and his coffee sloshed as he held both drinks aloft and out of the way.
"Jesus, Fornell, be careful!"
The embrace continued for a few more seconds until the FBI agent gave him a pat on the back and shuffled out of his personal space with an embarrassed grin. "I thought you might be…" he gave a one shouldered shrug. "You know."
Gibbs took a slug of coffee and tried to figure out how he'd been so lucky to come out of a failed marriage nearly bankrupt but with a lifelong best friend. It hadn't been such a bad bargain after all.
"Ah, you know me, I don't kill easy."
Fornell laughed awkwardly. "No, anyone who can drink that swill you call coffee could survive a nuclear holocaust." He walked over to Gibbs' desk, passing Ziva who glanced up in acknowledgement and went back to typing on her computer.
"So," Fornell sat on the corner of the desk while Gibbs sat down and shuffled through a pile of papers. "I hear you were with DiNozzo while you were gone."
Gibbs tightened his lips. "Yep."
The FBI agent picked up a paperweight and turned it over in his hands, glancing down and back up. "Was he alright?"
Gibbs' lips puckered and his nostrils flared. "As well as could be expected." He really didn't want to share any details about the experience, but he doubted Fornell would let it go.
His friend sat the paperweight down and crossed his arms. "How did you keep them from finding out who you are?"
Gibbs' bottom lip curled under his top one. He sat the papers down and stared at Fornell. "I went undercover as a trainer."
Fornell's eyes widened. "Really." He chuckled. "So you helped train DiNozzo? I'd like to have seen that."
"It's not funny, Tobias. When I got there they'd nearly beaten him to death."
Fornell nodded, completely serious. "Sorry, I know you're worried. I just find it ironic that you have certain unresolved feelings for DiNozzo and having to train him….even in an undercover capacity….that must have been difficult."
After a deep breath Gibbs' blue eyes fixed at a far spot on the wall. "Not really."
Fornell watched him thoughtfully and he leaned in close, glancing back to make sure Ziva wasn't listening. "The two of you….."
Gibbs jerked his head around quickly.
"You did." Fornell grinned. "That's good, I'm glad you finally got that out of the way. Now when we get Tony back, you can actually build on that."
Gibbs dropped his eyes to the paper on his desk and sighed, wishing that Fornell wasn't so damn observant.
"Oh, Jethro, what did you do? You couldn't possibly have screwed it up already." Fornell shook his head at his latest deduction.
"I didn't want to hurt him." Even Gibbs knew it sounded lame and pathetic.
"Hell, Gibbs, that's the weakest cop-out in the world. You got scared, plain and simple."
The lead agent looked away again, unwilling to meet Fornell's questioning eyes. Yes, he'd gotten scared and as a result hurt Tony as much as any of his other captors. He recalled the rejected expression on Tony's face the morning after they made love; Tony really did deserve better than a cold-hearted bastard like him.
Fornell straightened his shoulders. "Well, the only thing to be done is find him and set it all right."
If only it were that easy. Gibbs was glad Fornell didn't hesitate to help him. "So have you been assigned to the case again?"
Fornell cocked his head. "Not exactly; I have about six months of vacation coming and decided now would be a good time to take some. You gonna tell me not to help out?"
"Oh, no, I like the idea of telling you what to do for a while." He stood up and grabbed the cups off his desk. He'd waited long enough; Abby and McGee needed to have found something by now. "Let's go." He headed for the elevator, Fornell following. "You too, David," he called out, not surprised when the Israeli slipped between the doors right before they closed.
NCISNCISNCIS
Gibbs sensed trouble from the minute the elevator doors opened. The music coming from Abby's lab was far from the normal ear-splitting dissonance he had somehow become accustomed to hearing over the years. Instead, his ears were assaulted with a combination of chanting and syncopated drumbeats. The lights were low and he could smell the pungent odor of incense and exotic candles.
He pushed down a sudden rush of anger at the potential distractions, since this was all part of the way Abby worked and her successes far outweighed her failures. However, even his beloved Abby could go too far on occasion and this very well might prove to be one of those rare times. Entering the lab he abruptly stopped, caught off guard by the colorfully dressed woman standing next to the table in the center of the room waving her arms over a boiling pot; she was the epitome of a Creole voodoo priestess from the top of her orange turban to her gold encrusted shoes. The bangle bracelets on her wrists jingled as she swayed, eyes closed, and she sprinkled something into the pot. Everyone jumped when a puff of smoke shot out leaving a curling mist in the air.
"Gibbs!" Abby practically shrieked, running towards him. She threw her arms around his neck and clung to him. "It's working, I knew it would, and it is; you're here!" She kissed him on the cheek, leaving a red lipstick stain behind. "And soon we're going to find Tony and then you two can finally get together just like Madam Maison predicted!"
Gibbs gently eased out of her grip. "Madam Maison?" He looked around, noticing that McGee was sitting on a stool in front of a mass of unassembled computer parts with his head down, trying to disappear.
"That would be me." The eccentric old woman stepped forward and extended her hand, which Gibbs took with a glare at Abby. The woman didn't relinquish her unexpectedly strong grip. "Oh yes, Miss Abigail, his aura is very strong and…." She closed her eyes and stroked a ruby red fingernail against her temple. "So many emotions; it is not good to keep them all bottled up so, but you already know that don't you?" She patted his cheek with her hand. "Your boy is out there waiting on you to find him; I can feel him through you. He is strong, too, and believe me…..he knows what you were afraid to tell him."
Gibbs jerked his hand free and turned to Abby. "Get her the hell out of here, Abs."
"But, she's…" Abby stammered, taken aback by Gibbs' vehement anger. Ziva walked over to the visitor, taking her by the arm. "Come with me, Madam Maison, you can wait on Abby in one of the conference rooms upstairs." The Creole woman nodded, never taking her eyes off Gibbs.
Abby twisted her fingers together. "I'm sorry, Gibbs. I was just trying to help, I guess I wasn't thinking." Her eyes were wet with unshed tears and Gibbs found he was immediately over his ire with her. His face softened and he held out the Caf-Pow as a peace offering. She sniffled and took it with a weak smile, sipping from the straw to show she accepted his apology.
Fornell coughed and waved some of the lingering smoke out of the air. "Now that we have that sorted out, do you guys have anything or not?"
Abby and McGee exchanged glances. Tim faced the small group and clicked the keyboard. "We were able to reconstruct one of the hard drives and piece together several emails." Messages appeared on the screen. "It appears they are preparing for an auction of their recently trained slaves." He cleared his throat as if the word had been stuck in it. "The auction is scheduled to take place some time this month, but we've been unable to access an email that contains the exact date."
Gibbs interrupted impatiently. "I already knew all that. Where is the auction taking place?"
"New Orleans," Abby offered. "Apropos, huh? It's more than likely because of the access to so many ports. The buyers take their new….uh, slaves and leave the country on board private yachts. It cuts down on the possibility of getting caught trafficking the…." She searched for a word. "….merchandise back to their home countries. None of the buyers are American citizens since they find it too likely that a slave in this country would be able to escape or would be identified."
Fornell scratched his head. "New Orleans is a big city; think we can narrow that location down some?"
Abby bit her lip. "We're working on it, but so far none of the messages we've found mention the exact site of the auction." She turned to Gibbs, her emerald eyes wet again. "But we're still looking so don't give up! We just need a little more time."
Gibbs felt his throat tighten up; time was the one thing Tony didn't have enough of. He took Abby's hand and squeezed – none of this was her fault and she was doing everything she could. "I know you'll find something," he said softly and kissed her cheek before he turned toward the door.
"What are we going to do now?" McGee asked to his retreating back.
Gibbs didn't stop walking. "What do you think we're doing? We're going to New Orleans!"
NCISNCISNCIS
McGee waited in the lobby of the hotel for the rest of the team to meet him. He spent his time observing the eclectic and varied individuals who were entering and leaving the hotel. A woman in bright green latex pants, a purple sequined blouse and a pink feathered hat sauntered by on three inch stiletto heels. McGee chuckled. Tony would love this place.
If this had been a vacation they could have gone to Bourbon Street; he could only imagine DiNozzo getting wasted and handing out beads to a bevy of equally intoxicated women. They would probably get tossed out of a few bars and end the night with Tony hanging over the toilet puking his guts up. But it would be a blast.
He doubted if Tony was enjoying his time in the Big Easy. He'd done some research on human slavery and what he'd discovered had not been pleasant. It was one thing to know that forced enslavement happened to people, quite another when one of those people sat at the desk next to him every day for years.
They had teased Tony about being a sub, but that certainly didn't mean he was the type of person to agree to a lifetime of servitude. Tony was as strong-willed and independent as anyone he'd ever met, which was one of the reasons McGee believed his teammate had struggled with his sub status. If they managed to get DiNozzo home, he suspected Tony would have an even more difficult time figuring out what to do with the rest of his life after being put through this experience. Gibbs had, in typical fashion, refused to share anything about what had gone in that compound beyond the basic information necessary to aid in the investigation. The haunted look in the lead agent's eyes indicated there was something very profound that had occurred. There had always been something going on between Tony and Gibbs, and he was beginning to believe Abby was right, maybe they did have feelings for each other that went beyond the professional and friendship. Being in a relationship with Gibbs would scare the crap out of him, but Tony had never been one to pick either the traditional or the easy path in life, so perhaps Gibbs suited him.
If they didn't find Tony, he had no idea how Gibbs would handle it. Through everything they had experienced as a team, Gibbs had always been a rock, never wavering and never coming close to breaking down. The worst had been when Gibbs 'retired' to Mexico, and their boss had elected to fall apart by building hot tubs, sitting on a beach, and drinking beer. Not much of a breakdown.
He was glad Fornell was with them. If Gibbs lost it, Fornell might be able to handle him. McGee was completely certain he would have no idea what to do, and he doubted that Ziva would have many suggestions beyond knocking Gibbs out.
Granted, Fornell made him nervous. The FBI agent was always staring at him in a way that made him feel slightly uncomfortable. Maybe he was reading too much into it, but he was beginning to think Fornell had more of an interest in him than as just another member of the team. Yet another reason to miss Tony; DiNozzo would have given him hell over the suggestion, but he would have also had a great deal of insight into what to make of Fornell's recent behavior.
He could always ask Ziva; she would try to give him an honest answer, although he wasn't sure he was ready to hear it.
"Are we the first one's down?"
McGee's eyes darted up to find Fornell gazing down at him. "Um, yeah, I'm still waiting on everybody else."
Fornell sat on the seat next to him, close enough to be in his personal space, but not so close that it was inappropriate. They had covered the basics at the last sexual harassment seminar the team had been required to attend. "Not surprised this is Sciuto's hometown. It suits her," he commented as a kid with green hair and pierced eyebrows walked by.
"Yeah, Abby's one of a kind," McGee answered tentatively, unsure of Fornell's intentions.
"So what's the deal with the two of you; are you guys dating or what?"
McGee didn't hide his shock at the personal question. "Who? Me and Abby?"
Fornell nodded. "Yeah, you two are awfully close, I just thought, you know…."
McGee couldn't contain a laugh. "We tried it years ago before we both realized we were subs, which explains why it didn't work out. We're just really good friends."
The older man seemed to consider his answer. "So that means you're single?"
Oh, Lord. Getting hit on by an older male FBI agent was definitely more Tony's territory than his. He fumbled for a reply, eternally grateful when Ziva, closely followed by Gibbs, interrupted them.
Fornell took the change in conversation in stride. "So what's on the agenda today, Boss?" he asked Gibbs, who was already swilling from a gigantic coffee cup.
"Abby and McGee haven't found anything additional, so I guess we start canvassing and hope something turns up." He looked thoughtful as they walked towards the parking lot. "Once we get to the docks, Ziva, you and McGee work together and Fornell and I will team up; we can cover more ground that way. Anything suspicious, call." They settled in the rented car and Gibbs pulled out into traffic to the expected sounds of honking horns and screeching tires. "I want to comb through every inch of this city if it takes us a month," he proclaimed, steely blue eyes fixed straight ahead, one hand on the wheel and the other still clutching his ever present coffee cup.
"Good thing I had my mail held at the post office," Fornell muttered, leaning into a turn.
McGee and Ziva exchanged worried glances. The last time Gibbs had been this obsessed was after Ari killed Kate, and McGee doubted Gibbs had any intention of giving up on finding Tony, ever. He held onto the door handle as they whipped around a corner and prayed they caught a break soon.
For all their sakes, including Tony.
NCISNCISNCIS
By evening, the entire team was worn down with fatigue and frustration. They sat quietly at a café near the water, none of them doing justice to the meals in front of them. Ziva stared out at the light bouncing off the water as the sun cast its last rays over the Gulf bathing the evening in a golden glow. It should have been beautiful.
As the silence lengthened, Gibbs pushed his chair back and walked over to a railing, leaning out over the water. His silver hair, a little longer than normal due to his time away from home, blew in the breeze and Ziva could see that he was struggling to maintain his normally detached façade. The stress was wearing on all of them, Gibbs most of all.
The three remaining agents shared unspoken glances, and Ziva determined it was her turn to wade in and try to offer some type of support to her boss. Standing, she crossed the patio to take the spot on the rail next to Gibbs.
"It is lovely, yes?"
Gibbs spared her a quick sideways look, then turned his pale blue eyes back to the sunset. "Finish your dinner, Ziva. Tell the other two mother hens I'm fine."
Ziva barely smiled at the curt command. "No one would suggest otherwise," she played along, allowing him to continue portraying the heartless bastard he had honed to perfection. "I simply wanted to enjoy the view."
Gibbs' own face quivered as his lips drew up slightly. "Sure you do."
"Perhaps," she ventured carefully. "We are slightly concerned about you." She rushed onward after Gibbs' features hardened into a glare warning she was in unsafe territory. "You were seriously injured and have taken no time to recuperate. Not even Superman can go on forever."
"Yes, he can," Gibbs countered.
"What?" she asked, brows furrowed in confusion.
"Superman," he explained, leaning on his elbow to get a better look at her. "He can go on forever. Nothing can stop him."
"That is not true. He can be stopped by…..what is the substance? Glycerite? Cellulite?" She searched for the word but could not find it in her memory. "Tony would know….." she murmered before realizing what she had said and glancing up quickly to see Gibbs' response.
"Kryptonite," Gibbs offered, mouth twisted in a crooked grin. "And yeah, DiNozzo would know that and about fifty other useless facts that he'd be spouting out now. It's ok, Ziva. We can talk about him."
Ziva blinked at the open emotion on Gibbs' face and further confirmed Abby was correct; Gibbs was utterly in love with Tony and the situation was tearing him apart. "I…I do not know what to say. To tell you that he will be fine would not be true since we have no idea if we will even find him." She turned to watch the orange blaze of the sun fade further below the horizon and to hide the moisture in her eyes. "I can tell you that he is strong and if there is any way possible he will survive this." Tentatively she reached over and covered his rough hand with her own. "And his family will be there to help him recover, because we love him, too."
Gibbs didn't move for a few minutes, until he placed his arm across her shoulders and pulled her small body snug against his side. They stood together and watched the sun continue to set, each letting the silence say what words could not.
"We'd better get back," Gibbs finally said roughly after twilight had fully descended. They walked slowly back to the table where McGee and Fornell sat quietly talking. Before reaching the table, Gibbs' phone rang.
"You got anything, Abs?" Ziva bit her lip and listened, silently hoping that they were finally going to hear good news.
"Got it," Gibbs said, slamming the phone in his pocket and dashing through the tables in the direction of their car. Fornell frantically threw some money on the table and they raced after him.
"What did she find out?" McGee asked breathlessly as they ran through the parking lot.
"She found an address of an old warehouse that's been leased to a holding company called Compagnon de Belles Enterprises. As far as she can tell the company is a front and doesn't even file tax returns," Gibbs explained, sliding behind the wheel.
"Beautiful Companion Enterprises. Pretty clever," Fornell commented from the passenger side.
"You speak French?" Ziva asked, surprised. She also noticed that McGee was staring at the back of Fornell's head with a puzzled expression. Briefly she found herself curious about their earlier conversation and promised to question him about it later.
"There's a lot about me that might surprise you, David," the FBI agent responded glibly. McGee suppressed a grin that further encouraged her curiosity, but now was not the moment to say anything about it. Getting to Tony was the only focus of their attention.
The remainder of the trip was made without conversation. To settle her mind, Ziva reviewed the weapons she had available; her standard issue Sig and a backup at her ankle. She also had several knives tucked away in discrete locations on her body. She would have liked to have been better prepared but unfortunately they had not been given more opportunity to obtain additional armaments. They would have to rely on their training and experience to ensure they made it in and out of the location to bring Tony to safety. She had faced worse odds during her time in the Mossad, and she felt confident that all the men who would be taking the risk with her would be up to the task – even McGee. He might not know it, but she was sure that in his unassuming chest beat the heart of a lion. Nothing would prevent him from doing what was necessary to save Tony from his fate. She gave her partner a reassuring smile which he returned nervously.
Gibbs turned off the lights and parked the car several blocks away from the address he had been given by Abby. The agents moved silently toward their destination, which they found surrounded by a large chain link fence and gate with a guardhouse a few feet inside.
"Not another damn fence," Gibbs cursed, slamming his hand against the mesh. He rubbed his arm where the bullet had entered, glancing around for another way to gain entry. They crept to the side of the enclosure, seeing no breaks in the nearly ten foot high barricade. Ziva secured her gun in the holster at her hip and placed her feet and hands into the fencing, beginning to climb before anyone could stop her.
"David! What the hell are you doing?" Gibbs hissed, scouring the area for any sign of a guard who might observe his agent as she scaled the metal barrier.
"I will secure the location and open the gate from inside."
"Shit," Fornell spat. "Can't you do anything with this crazy team of yours?"
Ziva laughed, already halfway to the top. Like a cat, she slipped over the lip of the fencing and started down the other side. Near the ground, she leapt the rest of the way, landing with a soft plop. Quickly she grabbed her weapon and in a low crouch ran back toward the warehouse entrance.
The other three agents made their way to the front and waited. McGee raised his head as if startled and took his phone from his pocket to check the buzzing device. He frowned and then his eyebrows lifted.
"I got a text from Director Vance. I don't know what strings he pulled, but we have a warrant to enter the site. He's also arranged for backup from the FBI and local LEO's; they should be here in about fifteen minutes."
The gate opened at that moment, swinging silently forward. Ziva ran to the entrance and beckoned them inside.
"Come on," Gibbs said and started forward. Fornell grabbed his arm and Gibbs glared like he was trying to melt the offending hand with his potentially laser vision.
"Shouldn't we wait for backup?" His friend asked earnestly.
Gibbs shook his arm free. "Hell, no. If you want to wait and give them directions go ahead. I'll meet you back here." He spared a glance at McGee. "Same goes for you. I'm not making Tony wait one more minute than he has to." He jogged into the darkness and Ziva followed at his heels. McGee met Fornell's gaze; with a shrug he ran to catch up with his team.
Fornell sighed. "Hoo Rah," he said, and loped along behind.
NCISNCISNCIS
Light from a full moon guided their way as they scurried down a long driveway toward the low sprawling warehouse that lay tucked next to a large dock and dark lapping water. The outlines of several large yachts dotted the background. The smell of the sea air filled Gibbs' nose and cleared his mind. He clutched the barrel of his gun, prepared to eliminate anybody who was unfortunate enough to try and prevent him from getting inside. He was not in a frame of mind to extend mercy to individuals corrupt enough to associate with this despicable venture that equated human beings with animals.
A small sound caught his ear and he waved his hand for the tiny troupe to stop moving. They huddled low to the ground, trying to stay in the shadows to avoid detection as long as possible.
Two guards ambled up, talking in low tones, neither aware of the intruders waiting for them. Ziva jumped first, slamming the butt of her gun into the back of the first man's head with so much force he fell to the ground without a word. Gibbs punched the second guard in the gut and rammed a knee into the man's jaw, and he quickly fell in a heap next to his companion. Ziva collected their weapons and added a gun to her own arsenal, passing the other to Gibbs, who tucked away the extra gun into the waist of his pants and slipped the knife she held out into his pocket. Fornell slipped a confiscated rifle over his shoulder.
As they continued forward, McGee took out his phone again, the soft light distracting Gibbs who shook his head in frustration and turned the force of his tautly wound temper on the young agent. "What the hell are you doing? Are you trying to give away our position?"
McGee, eyes wide, fumbled with the phone and almost dropped it. "No….no Boss. It's…it's Abby. She found a layout of the warehouse and sent it to me. Thought it might help us find Tony faster."
Gibbs took a deep breath through his nose and tried to calm down; he had a highly capable team and shouldn't second guess every move they made. It was hard when so much was at stake, but he couldn't let his emotional investment rattle him. "Alright. That's good work, Tim. Tell us where we need to go."
The tech savvy agent gave him an appreciative look and reviewed the miniscule floor plan for a few seconds before answering. "I think the best place to enter would be the loading area on the east side. From there we can make our way into the main part of the building and try to figure out where they're holding him."
"Take the lead then," Gibbs encouraged McGee, who after a second's hesitation scrambled ahead of the team and led them in the direction of the docks; they crept into position near a low wall. Several semi trucks were parked close to a ramp with a wide door leading to the interior of the building where deliveries and supplies could easily be carried in or brought out.
Gibbs crouched next to McGee. "Where do we go from here?"
His younger agent pointed at a door on the side of the loading bay. "We can enter there and head down a short hallway to a fairly large room." His phone buzzed again and a message popped onto the screen. Gibbs growled irritably and started to stand up having no patience for McGee's gizmos.
"No, wait!" McGee hissed, grabbing Gibbs' arm and earning a harsh blue glare. "Abby tapped into a satellite feed and is tracking heat images – there are several people coming through the door right now."
The door opened and a small group of people walked out; a tall, muscular man with his long grey hair pulled into a ponytail and wearing an expensive suit led two leashed slaves who were shackled at the wrists and ankles. The subs kept their heads bowed as they shuffled along behind their master. A second man, shorter than the first and nearly as big around as he was tall, talked animatedly to the individual leading the slaves. He wore a dark track suit and had a thick gold chain around his neck. Moonlight glittered off several rings stuffed on his pudgy fingers and a gaudy diamond stud sparkled in his ear. Two beefy guards armed with rifles followed behind.
Gibbs held out his hand to Fornell who removed the rifle he had appropriated and gave it over. Wrapping the strap around his arm, Gibbs settled down and rested the rifle barrel on the edge of the stone wall. He glanced over at the others. "Be ready…..don't kill the tall man. He's mine."
The tone of his voice was as cold as winter ice, brooking no argument and inviting no conversation. He waited until they had their weapons raised and settled down to take aim. The world around him receded, sounds diminished, and the only thing that existed was the target in front of him. He took a breath and held it for a count of five, slowly released it, and fired two shots in quick succession.
It was like watching a scene from a movie; the guard's heads exploded in a mass of bone, brain, and blood, first one and then the other tumbling to the ground without raising a finger in retaliation.
"What the…..?" the fat man cried out, turning around in a circle to find their attackers, reaching for a gun more smoothly than one would have guessed for someone his size. Rick pulled the slaves backward and ducked behind them as a human shield and eliminating himself as a target.
Ziva surged forward, followed by Fornell and McGee. She took a shot at the obese slave trader, who fired in return while stumbling toward the loading bay searching for cover. The Israeli made it to one of the trucks and slid behind it, continuing to lay down shots at her target. Fornell and McGee raced to the side closest to the slave traders, attempting to reach a stack of crates standing on the edge of the platform. Shots forced them to stop in the open as Rick fired from his position behind the frightened slaves.
"Get down, McGee!" Fornell yelled, trying to protect the agent from the crossfire. He focused on the new threat, but found it impossible to return fire without endangering the slaves who were hiding Rick from view.
"Look out!" Ziva warned as the obese man took aim again; McGee cried out and hit the ground hard clutching his thigh.
Fornell whirled quickly and his responding shot found its target, tearing through the thick neck of their assailant. Big fingers clutched at the spurting wound, unable to stop the stream of blood from pouring over his knuckles. The large man fell to one knee and then the other, finally sprawling face first onto the floor where he didn't move.
Ziva ran from the safety of the truck, taking out her second gun and firing both in the direction of the tall man, careful to avoid coming close enough to hit the slaves. She flung herself down next to Fornell and McGee.
"Is he alright?" she asked with concern, sliding her hands underneath McGee's shoulders to lift his head out of the dirt while Fornell studied the hole in their friend's thigh.
"I can't tell, there's too much blood." Fornell's voice had an edge to it. He pressed down and Tim screamed.
"Stop….Ziva, make him stop!"
"The bullet might have hit an artery; I have to get this bleeding under control!" Fornell countered. Dirt flew up next to McGee's feet as another hail of gunfire rained down from the remaining slave trader.
Ziva hooked both hands under McGee's shoulders, ignoring her partner's cry of pain. "Cover us," she demanded, dragging Tim toward the side of the warehouse where they could gain some respite from the attack. Fornell fired toward the tall man, trading shots with their opponent. He cursed when one of the slaves screamed and grabbed his shoulder, winged by one of the bullets. Joining Ziva and McGee, he placed his body in between the NCIS agents and the gunfire.
"Where the hell is Gibbs?" he muttered, and Ziva shook her head before pulling off her jacket and shoving the fabric into the tattered hole in McGee's leg.
NCISNCISNCIS
"Master, help me please," the slave begged, staring up at the man who had complete control over his very life.
Rick ignored the frightened pleas, dropping the man's leash and pulling the remaining slave close to his body; he scrambled down the driveway toward the vehicles and the rented BMW that waited for him. He couldn't waste time with a wounded slave when the only thing that mattered was escaping. He had seen Gibbs when the shooting started, and didn't intend to wait around long enough to run into the man who no doubt wanted to kill him.
Glancing around, he continued to shoot in the direction of the agents on the far side of the warehouse, not concerned with hitting them but more determined to keep them at bay until he reached his car. The voice in his ear came as a shock.
"Don't take another step."
Rick ceased moving; the slave in his arms whimpered. Rick put his gun against the side of the man's head. "I'll blow his brains out unless you get out my way."
Gibbs stepped out of the shadows, his rifle aimed steadily at Rick's heart. "Where's DiNozzo?"
Rick snarled. "So that's the kind of man you are. You'll sacrifice an innocent life to save your precious Tony. I should have expected that from a selfish bastard like you."
Gibbs assessed the hostage whose life was suddenly a bargaining chip in a high stakes game of life or death. He was no more than a kid; twenty-five at the oldest. He was well muscled and strong, but his eyes were glazed and unfocused, indicating that he was probably drugged. There were livid red stripes on his naked body where he'd been recently whipped.
It was no surprise Gibbs didn't recognize the boy from the compound since all he'd really paid attention to was Tony.
The slave looked at him, and something flickered in his soft brown eyes that Gibbs hadn't seen before. Fire. Fight. Determination. Gibbs hoped he was reading the signals right, and he nodded slightly in response.
Without warning the kid slumped downward, throwing Rick off balance as he tried to compensate for the shift in weight. The leash fell from his hand and he moved the gun away from the boy's head, giving Gibbs a miniscule opportunity to act.
The former marine kicked out, striking his foot into Rick's gun hand; the weapon fell from limp fingers and clattered on the pavement. Gibbs continued the attack, slamming his boot into Rick's face, satisfied with the cracking of bone and spew of blood beneath his heel. The Dom fell backward, catching himself with his hand. He rolled over before Gibbs could strike again, scissoring his own leg out and into the side of Gibbs' ankle, knocking the agent to the ground. With agility honed in years of hand to hand combat, Gibbs sprang back to his feet.
Rick crawled toward his gun, stretching out his hand to grasp the handle. Before he could get a grip, Gibbs' foot pressed down on the long fingers, smashing them into fragments of bone. An ear-splitting shriek pierced the air. Gibbs knelt on one knee and grasped Rick's ponytail, pulling his face back before pounding it against the unforgiving concrete.
With no compassion, Gibbs rolled Rick over on his back; the slave trainer's nose was scraped and bloodied, his lips torn and bruised. Gibbs gripped his SIG and aimed it directly between Rick's eyes, pressing it into the flesh until the skin dimpled around it.
"Where. Is. Tony?" he repeated, finger tensed on the trigger. He could hear the blood pounding in his ears; he would shoot this man without hesitation, and never lose a minute's sleep. Maybe that was some kind of flaw in his personality, that he couldn't feel guilt for punishing those who hurt the one's he loved. Sometimes justice required the enforcement of the law, and other times it was necessary to mete out judgment in a more personal manner. Today was one of those days.
Rick laughed, his teeth stained pink with his own blood, his visage a gruesome mask of sadistic cruelty. "Go ahead and kill me, Gibbs. DiNozzo's gone; you'll never find him. I'll never tell you where he is and you can live out the rest of your life knowing he's being beaten, starved, raped…and you can't stop it."
Rage exploded like a white light, blinding him. He took his gun and smashed it across Rick's face, shattering the cheekbone and slicing a long gash in the skin. Gibbs stood, leveling his weapon again.
"Get up!" he shouted. "Stand up so I can see you when I beat your brains out!"
Rick struggled to obey; losing his balance until Gibbs roughly grabbed his arm and forced him to his feet.
"You're good at dishing out abuse to defenseless subs; how do you like it when it's you on the other end?" Gibbs dropped his gun and lashed out, punching Rick in the ribs repeatedly before moving back to his face, which he pummeled without remorse. Blood slicked his knuckles as he connected with the man's face and body again and again. Rick fell to his knees and tried to cover his head with his hands, unable to respond to the unrelenting attack.
"Where is he?" Gibbs screamed in Rick's ear, hand gripped in the ponytail dragging his head back painfully. "Does Nakamura have him?"
"N…never. Never….tell you," Rick stammered through swollen lips, his body swaying weakly. "Gone….already gone." He tried to laugh, but choked on the blood in his mouth and coughed instead. "Kill…me."
Gibbs reached for the knife Ziva had given him earlier and pulled it out, holding it firmly against Rick's neck, the tip creating a bloody hole in the flesh. "You deserve to die," he whispered, so lost in his own pain and anger that he didn't hear the wail of sirens or notice the approach of cars. Only when Rick blinked and his gaze wandered did he realize they were bathed in a stream of bright light.
"Don't do it, Jethro."
Fornell stood next to him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. "Don't ruin your life for a piece of shit like him. Let him live and make him suffer."
Gibbs adjusted his grip and dug the knife a little deeper, enjoying the pain that flickered across his enemies face. He wanted to kill the man, wanted him to hurt as badly as Tony was hurting, as badly as he was hurting right now with the knowledge of what was being done to DiNozzo.
"Tony wouldn't want you to rot in prison for him. Don't give up on finding him; if I know DiNozzo he's waiting for you," Fornell reasoned.
Blood trickled from the wound. He had killed for revenge before, and even though he didn't regret it, the act hadn't changed anything. Shannon was still dead; Kelly had never kissed him good-night again. The earth still turned and life went on regardless. He let out a deep breath and felt something release from inside him. He pulled the knife away and shoved Rick into Fornell, who caught the limp body before it fell to the ground. "I'll see that you spend the rest of your life in solitary confinement," he whispered.
He walked away from the buzz of activity, FBI agents and LEO's rushed to take the slave dealer into custody. Something warned him to turn around, and he froze at the sight of Rick grabbing the arm of a young officer and twisting his weapon in Gibbs' direction.
There was a moment of suspended time, when he wasn't sure what would happen next – he had no opportunity to draw his own gun or jump to safety.
The sound of a gunshot and Rick's lifeless body falling to the ground set time in motion again. Fornell lowered his weapon, gazing impassively at the gaping hole in the side of Rick's head.
Gibbs and his friend locked eyes, the slight nod of appreciation imperceptible to most. There was nothing else necessary. Justice had been served.
With a few quick steps Gibbs knelt by the side of Ziva and McGee, who was being checked out by a pair of paramedics that had cut through his agent's pants and were applying a pressure bandage to the wound. Tim's face was pasty white and covered with sweat; he held Ziva's hand tightly.
"Is he going to be ok?" Gibbs asked.
The middle-aged EMT nodded. "We need to get him transported, sir. It's a nasty wound and the bullet's still in there, so he's going to need surgery."
The lead agent locked his gaze onto McGee's noting the boy's fear stricken face. "You'll be fine, Tim, and you'll have a hell of a story to tell Tony one day. You've got nothing to worry about, ok?"
Tim nodded shakily. "Ok….ok, Boss," he agreed. Gibbs gave him a supportive pat on the arm as they moved him to a stretcher. "Ziva, go with him," Gibbs ordered.
Fornell appeared behind them. "Let Ziva stay here; I'll ride with McGee," he offered, casting a nervous glance at the ambulance, his face bathed in the flashing lights. His lips were drawn into a puckered frown as he kept glancing at the movements of the paramedics who were lifting McGee into the vehicle.
Ziva raised an eyebrow, but Gibbs didn't have the energy or desire to figure out what was up with the FBI agent. Instead he accepted the suggestion.
"Fine. Call if you need anything. Ziva and I will work the scene. Maybe….." He licked his lips. "Maybe we'll find something to lead us to DiNozzo."
Fornell turned to leave and Gibbs grabbed his arm. "Thanks."
His friend gave him a small smile. "I couldn't let the bastard shoot you; who would I complain about Diane to?" He went to the waiting ambulance and hopped inside.
Gibbs stood quietly for a moment, gathering his resolve before walking toward the entrance to the warehouse. They had come so far and he had believed they would find Tony and now…. Maybe Rick had lied and Tony was inside. He picked up his pace and in a few strides he was running. He didn't say a word, aware that Ziva had fallen into step by his side.
NCISNCISNCIS
Ziva watched Gibbs standing in the room filled with cages, staring at the empty boxes. She wondered what he was thinking. He walked past each one, touching it before moving on. At the end of the row he stopped again, back straight as an arrow and his arms hanging at his sides. Soundlessly he walked through the room and out the door.
The Israeli followed him. They searched through every room, but just like at the compound there was little left behind to indicate where Tony might have been taken. In the main room they discovered a stage surrounded by rows and rows of chairs. The auditorium would seat hundreds. Gibbs stood in the center of the stage, kneeling at the spot where a ring was embedded in the floor. He reached out a gloved hand and lifted the heavy ring, letting it fall back with a thud. Standing, he turned to look out over the sea of chairs.
Ziva entered a control room filled with electrical equipment. She flipped a switch and several spotlights turned on; Gibbs covered his eyes against the blinding light.
"Sorry," she yelled, turning the lights back off. Gibbs jumped from the stage and ran up the aisle to join her. He scanned the various monitors trying to locate something.
"McGee would know what the hell to look for," he mumbled, smacking his hand on a table. He turned to face her and she was glad that years in her father's presence had prepared her to stand up to the penetrating glare. "Do you see a video feed? They probably taped the auction."
Studying the machines, she pushed a few buttons and scratched her head when nothing happened. Placing her hands on her hips she stepped back and assessed every switch and gizmo. Inspiration hit her and she took out her phone, glad Abby was on speed dial because Gibbs looked ready to start ripping monitors out of the walls.
"Abby," she said quickly, cutting off the stream of questions that started immediately. "I need you to help me find something. We are looking for a video feed and Gibbs and I really do not know what to make of all these devices."
"Where's McGee? Can't he tell you?" Her question held an edge to it, and Ziva reminded herself for the thousandth time to never underestimate the scientist.
"He is busy right now," she stalled, before describing the array of equipment. With her usual efficiency, Abby guided her to a row of buttons. After pushing several a screen blinked to life. Ziva pulled a chair in front of the monitor, and Gibbs stood behind her. She played with the controls until she figured out how to rewind the picture, stealing her resolve as the grainy image of slave after slave sped by. Even running backwards and jumping from scene to scene, the abuse they were being subjected to was appallingly clear. All too soon she recognized a familiar physique with light brown hair. Glancing over her shoulder at Gibbs, she stopped the recording and let it play at the correct speed.
She could practically feel Gibbs go stiff and unmoving, frozen like a moth in a web. Swallowing and blinking back tears, she watched the auction of her friend who was humiliated and assaulted while the audience hooted and cheered his degradation. Tony seemed slightly confused and out of it, and she suspected he was drugged which might be a godsend. When he was shoved over a stool and exposed to the crowd, she choked back a horrified sob. Gibbs continued to watch without any sign of emotion, as immobile as a statue.
As the torment continued, Ziva gagged and jumped out of her seat, barely holding the vomit down until she found herself on her knees draped over a garbage can. For several minutes she couldn't think beyond the burning bile rushing out of her throat. When her stomach finally calmed down, Gibbs was sitting next to her with his hand on her back, rubbing up and down her spine in long soothing strokes.
"You alright?" he asked, his blue eyes filled with concern.
She sniffed, realizing that her face was covered in sweat and tears. He pushed a few loose strands of hair out of her face and then pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. With tender care he wiped her skin and then wrapped his hand around the back her neck, drawing her close. They leaned against the wall, and for the first time since Tali died, Ziva had to fight to keep herself from dissolving into another bout of tears.
"I am sorry," she apologized when she felt steady enough. "I should not have let that happen. I did not know…."
Gibbs patted her knee, his eyes far away and sad. "I have to find him, Ziva. I can't let him live like that."
"I understand," she agreed solemnly. "It is good that Rick is already dead. It would have been difficult to leave him alive."
Gibbs snorted and lifted his eyes toward the ceiling. She had never seen him cry, and even now found the idea of it mildly disturbing. He pressed his lips together and closed his eyes as if in great pain. When he opened them the hurt was replaced by something more familiar – cold, hard, steal.
He leveraged himself off the floor and held out his hand to her. "We've got work to do." Lifting her to her feet, they closed off their hearts and started collecting evidence, just like all the other crime scenes they had worked countless times before.
The only difference was this one meant so much more.