Chapter Sixteen

Rivers was whistling again.

He was circling Tony like a spider would a fly in its web, not cutting him, just dragging the blade across his skin, occasionally poking him with the tip, and whistling a nursery rhyme as he went. Gibbs looked straight into Tony's wide, frantic and haunted eyes, and he refused to look away. The blood from his nose hadn't stopped, but it had slowed enough that he could breathe without needing to tip his head back too much. It still hurt like hell, but it was survivable.

Rivers moved behind Tony, and he started shaking so badly that even Gibbs could see it. Gibbs straightened his shoulders, kept his eyes locked with Tony's, and gave a short, sharp nod.

'You can do this, DiNozzo. You will make it through this. You will not give up.'

Tony's breath hitched in his throat, and he swallowed hard, but he nodded quickly in return.

'I hear ya, Boss.'

"Here above the woodworker's bench, the golden boy is dying …"

Bitter, burning bile rose in Gibbs' throat at both the insanity of the words and the casual innocence with which they were being sung. Rivers continued to circle until he reached Tony's right side, and then he stopped.

"Let's see how fast his blood flows …"

Rivers flicked his wrist, and the knife sliced cleanly through the skin above Tony's ribs, from his armpit to the waist of his jeans.

Tony jerked away and cried out, but he caught his lip between his teeth and bit down, silencing the cry before it became a scream. Gibbs yanked against the cord again, once more tightening the knot that he'd been seconds from untying. Rivers walked between them, raised the knife, and pressed the flat of the blade against Tony's cheek.

"Look! Now he's crying."

Gibbs had seen Tony hurt before. He'd seen him sick, shot, stabbed and sliced open. He'd seen him beaten, battered, bruised and damn near broken. He'd seen him mourn a partner. He'd seen him mourn a lover. He didn't think that he had ever, in the eight years he'd known him, seen tears in his eyes.

Until that moment.

It was those eyes that kept Gibbs focused on the objective. They had to get out. He had to get free so he could end it. He started working at the knot for the third time, and his eyes sent another silent message across the room.

'Eyes open and on me. Don't close them. Don't look away.'

Tony forced himself to breathe, ignored the blood that was oozing down his side and already soaking into his jeans, and held his chin a bit higher. He blinked rapidly to clear the tears away, but his gaze never wavered.

'Got it.'

Rivers tilted his head and turned from Tony to Gibbs and back again. "What are you two doing?" He turned all of his attention to Gibbs and started walking toward him. "Why is he staring at you? What are you doing over here?"

Gibbs didn't answer. He didn't even move. If Rivers found out that he'd almost freed his hands, they'd lose the only hope they had of surviving. But there was nothing to stop him.

"He's just … better looking … than you."

Nothing except Tony's smart mouth, that was.

Rivers turned back around, and Gibbs took advantage of those few seconds to gather the loose ends of the cord together in his hands.

"Ya know, that would explain a lot. If it was true. But I don't think that's it." He turned back and continued walking.

Gibbs ran through all the possible scenarios in his mind. He could kick the bastard's legs out from under him, grab the knife or one of the guns … if Rivers weren't walking just an inch too far away, and if he'd managed to get that last damn knot out. But all he could do as Rivers moved behind him was keep his breathing even and his eyes on Tony's.

"Oh, Gibbs. You're as smart as everyone told me you are, aren't you?" Rivers knelt down behind him and clucked his tongue. "Open your hands."

Gibbs didn't move.

He didn't see the knife, but he felt it slice across the backs of his hands, and his fingers flew open against his will. Rivers sighed as he gathered the loose ends of the cord and started looping and knotting them again, tighter and more complex than he had done originally.

"I just don't get it, Gibbs. I don't. I mean, you're good. One of the best." Gibbs flinched as the cord cut into his wrists. "You could have any senior field agent you want. I know guys at the FBI who would kill for the chance to be your second. Good agents, smarter and stronger than he could ever be. Like me. I'm better than he is, and I'd have given you 110% every day." He put one last knot in the cord before leaning across Gibbs' shoulder and pointing the knife at Tony. "Why do you waste your time on him?"

Gibbs lifted his chin, but other than that, he remained unmoving.

"If you have to ask the question, you wouldn't understand the answer."

Tony actually managed to grin at that.

Rivers shifted his position until he was next to Gibbs rather than behind him. Gibbs didn't have to turn his head to know the man was glaring at him.

"I'm being unfair to you, Gibbs. Just like you, I'm paying way too much attention to DiNozzo. But unlike you, I can admit that to myself. And I'm willing to fix it."

The knife moved again, two quick slashes across his upper arm. Gibbs grimaced and grunted at the pain, but he made no other sound. Rivers leaned back and raised the knife again.

"You're … an idiot … Bruce."

Rivers froze, and Gibbs narrowed his eyes.

'Don't do it, DiNozzo.'

Gibbs knew that Tony understood the unspoken warning, but he ignored it.

"You think … you think you're better? Than me?" Tony wrapped his right hand around the extension cord and pulled himself up to almost his full height. He was gasping for breath, whether from the pain or the shock or the emotion, Gibbs didn't know. It was taking everything he had, but Tony was still on his feet, and his voice, though raspy and breathy, was firm. "You're nothing."

'Stop pissing him off.'

"You couldn't even … impress Fornell. You think Gibbs would give you … the time of day? Pick you? Like he picked me? No chance. You're … pathetic."

'Shut up, Tony!'

Rivers slowly pushed himself to his feet, turned, and walked back across the basement.

Gibbs knew what Tony was doing. He wasn't antagonizing Rivers for fun. He wasn't playing the self-sacrificing martyr, and he didn't have a death wish. He had a reason for poking the hornet's nest, and it was a damn good one. Gibbs didn't like it – he hated it – but he also agreed that it was the only way.

'I can't get loose, Boss. But you can.'

Gibbs started on the knots again, and his fingers worked at them rapidly. He ignored the stinging cuts across the backs of his hands and the blood that oozed down his wrists. Tony's life depended on how fast he could get himself free.

Both of their lives did.

Rivers wasn't whistling anymore. He wasn't circling, or singing, or laughing. He was glaring at Tony with open and undisguised hatred. He leaned closer, until he was only inches from Tony's ear, but he spoke loudly enough for Gibbs to hear him, too.

"You wanna play, DiNozzo?"

"What's the … point?" Tony closed his eyes for just a second, and when he opened them again, he was looking directly at Rivers.

'No! You look at me!'

"You know … I'm gonna win. I always do … don't I?"

"Okay." Rivers nodded his head and took one step back. "Okay, DiNozzo. Let's play."

Rivers struck quickly and wildly, swinging the knife up and at an angle, slicing Tony's chest from his right hip to his left shoulder.

"Let's play."

The screech of the car's tires hadn't even faded away before Tim started moving. He climbed out of the car, slung the strap of his weapon over his shoulder, and turned toward the side yard.

"McGee." Ziva called to him as she rounded the front of the car, and he turned his head. "I have done this several times. You have not."

He shook his head quickly. "I know, Ziva, but I need you inside."

Ziva looked at him in silence for a moment, almost as if she was evaluating him. Then she smiled softly and nodded. "Do not forget to compensate for the glass. It will deflect the angle the shot. Study the situation and know the location of your target at all times. Take three deep breaths, and squeeze on the pause after the last." She squeezed his arm. "You can do this, McGee."

He nodded in return. "I have to."

Fornell walked up to them, straightening his jacket as he crossed the sidewalk. "What's your plan, McGee?"

Tim took a deep breath. He'd worked out the last few details in his mind on the drive over. The success or failure of his plan depended on several factors that he couldn't control and no small amount of luck, and he knew that. But he also knew that if everything worked the way he thought it would, it would work.

"You two are going to distract Rivers. If he hates Gibbs and Tony this much because he got fired, he's got to be pretty pissed at you, too, Fornell. It should be easy for you to get his attention. Draw him out, get him as far away from both of them as you can. If we can end this without taking him out, then we will, but if we can't …"

"How long do you need?" Fornell had abandoned all pretense of being the one in charge, and Tim was thankful for that fact.

"Give me three minutes to get into position, then move in. Stay clear of the window."

"Just one problem, McGee." Fornell pulled his own weapon out and held it at his side. "What if they aren't in the basement?"

"They are."

"How can you be sure?"

He'd questioned that himself, but there was nowhere else they could be. "He likes symbolism," he said. "Setting it up to make us think of Rob Brewer, bringing Tony here the first time, carving Gibbs' name into his back and his own badge number into his chest and arms ..."

"He started this in the basement," Ziva added. "He will want it to end there."

"We're wasting time." Tim wrapped his hand around the strap of the sniper rifle and pulled it higher on his shoulder. "Three minutes. Give me three minutes, then move in."

Tim turned and jogged toward the side of the house. Behind him, Fornell gave voice to the words that had been running through his own mind since he'd tossed the car keys to Ziva in the squad room.

"He'd better be right."

Ziva silenced any and all second thoughts or self doubt that Fornell's words might have stirred up.

"He is."

Gibbs had a mental list of things he'd been witness to that he never wanted to see or hear again. Every item on it had, without exception, haunted his nightmares for weeks, if not months, after they'd happened. He never added anything until he'd given it time to affect him, because not every horrific thing he saw stayed with him. Plus, he was a hard bastard, so it wasn't easy to earn a spot on that list. Not even a low one.

The sound of Tony screaming had jumped straight to the top of it.

Gibbs had ground his teeth together and tried to ignore it, but it sliced through his ears and clawed against the inside of his skull. He wanted to close his eyes, to pretend he couldn't see the blood that was flowing down Tony's chest and arms, but he couldn't. It didn't matter that Tony hadn't looked at him in what seemed like forever, that his eyes were closed, that he wasn't giving any indication that he'd be opening them any time soon.

He would not turn away.

To say that Tony was in bad shape would have been an understatement. Rivers had cut him twice more, once on the inside of each arm, and he'd taken a sadistic pleasure in cutting out the stitches and deepening the letters on his back. He'd backhanded him four times, twice with the handle of the knife, and Tony's right eye was so swollen that Gibbs doubted he could open it if he tried. None of the cuts were deep enough to hit any major veins, but between his arms, chest, back, side and battered face, he was a bloody mess.

And through it all, Tony hadn't screamed. He'd moaned, and he'd gasped, and he'd whimpered, and he'd bitten his lip so hard and so many times that there was blood running down his chin, but he hadn't screamed.

Until Rivers decided to dig his thumb into the swollen, deformed, black and purple wreckage of Tony's left shoulder.

Three times.

Then, with the sounds of Tony's screams still echoing in the air, he'd turned and walked up the stairs. He hadn't said a word about where he was going or what he was doing, but that was just fine with Gibbs. If it gave Tony even a few seconds of peace, if it gave Gibbs even a few moments to untie another knot or two, then it was worth it.

Tony's head was leaning against his right arm again, his breathing was labored and shaky, and his eyes were closed. Gibbs half-hoped that he'd passed out, but he knew that he hadn't. Tony's knees had somehow, miraculously, not buckled. He'd wrapped the extension cord around his right hand, and he was using it to keep himself straight, but he wasn't hanging from it. He was still standing.

"DiNozzo?"

It took a few seconds, but he got an answer.

"Pre … present."

Tony tried to take a deep breath, and he turned his head further into his arm when it triggered a coughing fit. The coughs were deep, wet-sounding, and they wracked his whole body, including his shoulder. He jerked away from the pain instinctively, but that just made it sharper, which made him gasp for air, which made him cough, which started the whole thing over again.

"Tony." Gibbs kept his voice soft but firm. "Listen to me. You're hurting yourself. You have to calm down."

Tony tried to swallow the next round of coughs, but holding them in just seemed to make them worse.

"Stop fighting. Relax. Concentrate. Slow, even breaths. No coughing. No moving. Just breathing. You can do that."

Tony didn't answer, but it was obvious that he was trying to do as he was told. Slowly but steadily, he managed to get his breathing under control.

"Atta boy."

After a few more moments, once the entire episode was nothing more than a highly unpleasant memory, Tony leaned his head back against his arm and cracked his eyes open.

"Fuck."

The side of Gibbs' mouth twitched upwards, and he shook his head.

"Eloquent, DiNozzo."

There was a sound from above them, from the door at the top of the stairs. A lock clicking into place.

Rivers had never left the basement. He'd heard the entire conversation.

"You two make me sick." He started descending the stairs. "And you say I'm the pathetic one, DiNozzo? Really? You can't even breathe without your precious boss telling you how."

Gibbs locked his gaze on Tony's once more, and he forced his swollen fingers to move faster. The blood from his hands was actually helping; it was making the cord even slicker and easier to push through itself. He'd gotten all but the last two knots out again.

He only needed three minutes.

He should have given himself more than three minutes.

The window that overlooked the basement stairs was large, so he should have had no problem choosing the perfect 'nest' for himself. Should have had. Would have had. If that window hadn't been covered over with dust, cobwebs, and grass clippings that the lawn mower had left behind.

Tim fell to his knees, then to his stomach, and started slowly, carefully, wiping a small spot clean.

He could only pray that no one on the other side of the window would notice what he was doing.

"That's three minutes." Fornell looked up from his watch and nodded at Ziva as she reached out and slowly, carefully, turned the knob.

It didn't move.

"He has locked the door," she whispered.

Fornell took a moment to consider the situation. "McGee wants us to distract Rivers, right?"

Ziva nodded.

"So let's distract him."

Fornell lifted his foot and kicked the door with everything he had.

The sound of something slamming into the door startled both Gibbs and Tony, but Rivers didn't seem bothered by it. He glanced at his watch as his foot hit the floor, and he smiled.

"Cavalry's here. And right on time, too." He didn't slow his pace as he crossed the room. "I figure I've got about a minute before they get through that door. Let's give them a little preview of what they're going to see when they do."

Rivers pulled his fist back and punched Tony in the collarbone.

Tim's head jerked up when he heard the scream.

"Tony!" he whispered.

Then he pulled his sleeve down over his hand and started wiping the glass frantically.

"Tony!" Ziva breathed.

She turned sideways, bent her knees, and her foot joined Fornell's against the door.

The second-to-last knot slipped out as Tony's scream faded away.

Rivers opened the knife and stepped behind him. He grabbed a handful of Tony's hair and pulled his head back, then he snaked his arm around his neck. He pressed the tip of the blade against Tony's unprotected throat.

Tony's eyes were barely open, he was staring dazedly at the window above the stairs, and he was blinking slowly. Then, for some reason Gibbs didn't understand, his eyes widened ever-so-slightly, and he smiled.

Tim had cleaned a large enough section of the window that he could see into the basement clearly. He positioned the rifle and looked through the scope, but he pulled back almost immediately.

"God damn it."

Rivers had known they were coming. Of course, he'd known they were coming! He knew that McGee had called Gibbs, didn't he? He'd hung up on him. So he'd known they were coming, and he'd taken steps to protect himself. There was no way Tim could take the shot.

Tony was in the way.

The door flew open with so much force that it slammed into the wall behind it and almost closed again, but Fornell and Ziva were already moving. Weapons raised, they burst onto the landing. Ziva took three steps forward and stopped, and Fornell moved down three steps before he did the same.

"Rivers!"

Even from above, they couldn't get a clear shot. Rivers had known they were coming, and he'd made sure that he was safely behind the one person in the basement who was tall enough to shield him.

Tony was in the way.

The last knot slipped free. The cord fell away. Gibbs lunged for the sawhorse, grabbed the first gun he touched – Tony's – and came up to one knee. He lifted the weapon, held it steady, and aimed it right where Bruce Rivers' head should have been.

"Drop the knife!"

But Rivers had moved far enough behind Tony that Gibbs couldn't get a clear shot. He didn't dare move any closer, for fear of Rivers using the knife that he was pressing against Tony's neck. But there was no way he could take a shot with Rivers standing where he was.

Tony was in the way.

Tim took a deep breath and looked back through the scope again.

His prayers hadn't been answered. Someone in the basement had noticed him. Someone knew where he was and what he was doing. That was the bad news.

The good news was that it was Tony. Neither Gibbs nor Rivers seemed to see him, but Tony was staring right at him. Tim took another breath, adjusted his aim slightly, and tightened his grip on the rifle.

Tony glanced at the floor and then back up. Tim caught the message, and he nodded quickly in understanding.

"I'm in charge here."

Rivers' voice cut through the silent tension. He was completely unaware of the unspoken plans that were being made right in front of him, and he still believed that he was the one in control. He thought Tony was too far gone to do anything but stand there and die. He had no idea.

Tony closed his eyes and mentally prepared himself for what was coming.

"I've got your golden boy, Gibbs." He shook Tony by his hair and dug the knife in deeper. Tony moaned in response, but he told himself that it was only because that was what Rivers expected him to do. "I'm going to slice his throat to the spine while you watch."

He could feel blood running down the side of his neck, and he knew that what he was about to do was going to make it worse, but he had no other options. He had no other choice. Only one person was leaving that basement in a body bag.

And it wasn't going to be him.

"Bruce." He wished his voice were stronger, louder, less broken. But it was all he had left. And it was enough. "Don't say I didn't … warn you."

"Warn me about what, DiNozzo?" The words were laced with loathing and condescension.

"That payback … was a bad … idea."

"Yeah? Look around you, DiNozzo. They can't help you. If they shoot me, they kill you. If they don't shoot me, I kill you. So who's gonna win?"

Tony took one last breath, closed his eyes, and clenched his teeth.

"Me."

It all happened at the same time, the same second, the same heartbeat, the same breath.

Tony dropped his head, bent his knees, and threw all of his weight onto his wrists.

The extension cord jerked his shoulders up.

Then it gave way, and Tony's arms came down.

He screamed as he fell to his knees.

A gunshot rang out.

The window shattered.

The bullet sailed over Tony's head.

Bruce Rivers was dead before his body hit the floor.

Gibbs was on his knees at Tony's side almost as quickly.

Tony's head was hanging down, and his breathing was rapid and loud. He was wobbling badly, and Gibbs was amazed that he was still upright. He put one hand on Tony's right shoulder and the other under Tony's chin. He tipped his head up.

"You're … bleeding …" Tony's eyes were open, but they didn't look like they'd be staying that way very long.

Gibbs snorted, half in amusement, half in disbelief. "So are you."

Tony licked his lips. "I … win?"

"Yeah, Tony. You did."

"Good."

Ziva was running down the stairs toward them, Fornell was moving to check on Rivers, and Tim's running footsteps echoed through the floorboards above them.

"Great shot … McGibbs …"

Tony smiled, and then his eyes rolled back into his head.

Gibbs was strong enough to catch him again.