Chasing Jack
Chapter Thirteen
Gibbs had listened intently as they moved through the darkened boat. St. Clair had assured him that Greene and the boat's owner had left the vessel and that Sutton was passed out cold someplace. He wanted to believe it was the truth. But at this point he was operating under constant high alert and better safe than sorry mode. Some sliver of him still didn't trust Danny St. Clair and wouldn't until he proved himself true to his word.
Just as that thought passed through his head the detective came to a stop up ahead of him.
"We're here," he stated.
"Well open it already," Gibbs responded gruffly.
"The key's in my pocket. With that gun shoved into my back I didn't think suddenly digging around in my jacket would be a smart move."
"You probably thought right. Where?" Gibbs questioned.
"Right pocket. There's a flashlight in there for you too."
Gibbs switched his hold on the gun to his left hand and with his right found the pocket of St. Clair's jacket. Sure enough there was a set of keys and a small flashlight inside. He pulled both out. Tapping the other man's arm to draw his attention downward Gibbs handed the key off to him.
"Open it!" he instructed. While St. Clair went about unlocking the door Gibbs pressed down on the button on the flashlight bringing it to life. As it turned out the detective really had given thought to all of this ahead of time. Instead of being a standard issue flashlight this one lit up with red colored LEDs. It would assist in maintaining night vision as opposed to regular white light which would hinder it.
Once the door was unlocked St. Clair headed into the room. Up until that moment Gibbs had stayed right at his heels with the gun to his back. But now suddenly his reaction was delayed as the detective moved through the doorway and into the darkened room. Gibbs desperately wanted to get to Tony but when the moment actually arrived he found himself momentarily stalled on the far side of the threshold.
Despite his best efforts to barricade it away in the far reaches of his brain the thought that they might be too late kept creeping up on him. And now that he stood a mere few feet away the true strength of that possibility struck him hard. There was a real chance that all he might find inside that room would be the lifeless body of his friend and once senior field agent.
He hated to admit it but it was likely why he had allowed St. Clair to go on ahead of him. Maybe it would be some small fraction easier if the detective were to come back and tell him rather than finding out by first glance. He would be able to steel himself against it before seeing it.
All this passed by in his mind in only a short string of seconds and when he untangled himself from the unwanted line of thinking St. Clair had not reappeared. So Gibbs simply had to force himself to move forward,
Crossing over the threshold into the cabin he panned the red glow from the flashlight over the contents of the room. When it reached the center of the cabin it landed on St. Clair knelt down beside a person lying on the floor who Gibbs could only assume was Tony. But he couldn't be sure at first since the detective was in between them blocking a full view.
Taking the last few steps to reach the room's center Gibbs shifted the beam of the flashlight downward towards the floor. The almost eerie red glow from it landed on the person lying there on their side. Gibbs looked to the man's face and found it was in fact Tony. But his eyes were closed and his facial features slack. He was motionless.
Gibbs felt his chest tighten but managed to squat down beside where St. Clair was knelt. His arrival there must have prompted the detective to speak because his voice quietly broke the silence of the room.
"His pulse is a little fast. Breathing's steady but a bit shallow. I'm just having a bit of a hard time rousing him."
Once the initial wave of relief had washed over him Gibbs shifted his position and moved to kneel on the floor in front of Tony's upper body. Since both of his hands were occupied, one with the flashlight and one with the Glock handgun he had taken off St. Clair, he made his own attempt at rousing Tony by speaking.
"Tony can you hear me? Tony?" he urged.
But the soft tone and the words did not elicit any sort of reaction from the younger man. Instead the detective spoke up once again.
"You keep trying to rouse him. I'm going to get these restraints off him and give him a quick once over. If he's not alert by then I can carry him out on deck."
Gibbs looked over in St. Clair's direction and watched as he began to work on the ropes that bound Tony's ankles together. The detective was about Tony's height and had a bit more substantial build to him. He would certainly be able to shoulder Tony's weight if need be.
Looking back down at Tony Gibbs found that the man had not roused at all. It was clearly going to take a bit more than words to bring him around. He placed the flashlight on the floor but positioned it so that its red glow washed over the younger man's face and upper body. Now with a free hand he reached over and tapped Tony's cheek with his fingertips.
"Hey DiNozzo! Rack time is over. Time to wake up."
In response to the tap on the cheek Tony moved his head slightly, shifting away from the touch. It wasn't much but enough to prompt the team leader to push on a little bit more firmly.
"I said rack time is done. Open your eyes DiNozzo!"
This time Tony let out a low grunt and rolled his head so his face was turned down towards the floor. It was clear the younger man was on the brink of being full aware but not quite completely on the other side yet. He could probably hear Gibbs' voice – maybe even recognize it as his – but the meaning of the words were likely getting cloaked in the fogginess inside his head. It would take a bit of a jolt to free him from the hold it had on him.
Gibbs reached out to Tony again. This time he grasped a hand onto his chin. His fingertips firmly pressed against the skin of the other man's cheeks. The palm of his hand tightly cupped around underneath his chin. As he used the hold to turn Tony's head so his face was up away from the floor Gibbs spoke up. His tone carried a bite to it this time.
"I'm not messing around Tony. You have to wake up. Now!" he instructed. The words had barely exited his mouth when Tony jerked his head back sharply. He then began to struggle to free his chin from Gibbs' grasp. His eyes flew open and even with only the subdued reddish glow for lighting Gibbs could instantly see the panic in them. Gibbs immediately released his hold.
Tony's bolting into awareness had come so rapidly and with such a strong reaction it was clear something specific had triggered it. His words had not been all that sharp or out of the ordinary so it must have been the physical touch.
Suddenly Gibbs regretted taking such a firm hold on Tony's chin. It had been too much. Gibbs had thus far avoided looking over what state his agent was in physically and had stayed focused on rousing him. But now he registered that given what Tony had been through physically that type of touch must have seemed rather aggressive.
Tony was still looking up at him. The panic was slightly less in his eyes. But there was now a trace of confusion in them.
"Hey! Tony it's just me. There's no threat here."
"Boss?" Tony responded. His voice was rough, raw sounding, as he forced out the word. The confusion in his voice was much less than the team leader had seen in his eyes a moment earlier but still present.
"Yeah. It's me."
Tony looked to be about to reply when his gaze suddenly shifted off to the right of Gibbs. In his growing alertness he must have seen or sensed someone else was there with them. But the glow from the flashlight did not extend very far and left that area in darkness. He struggled to lift his head from the floor to be able gain a better view of his surroundings but Gibbs could see the younger man simply didn't have the energy to shift position enough.
"Detective St. Clair is here with us. He's going to help us escape," Gibbs told him.
Resting his head back on the wood floor Tony replied. The words were nearly mumbled as exhaustion came through heavily in his voice when he spoke.
"I must be worse off than I thought. You must be a hallucination because I thought I just heard you say St. Clair was going to help us."
"Nope. I'm really here. And that's what I said."
"And you believe him?" Tony responded in a tone that conveyed his opinion on just how absurd that idea was.
To this the detective himself spoke up.
"Agent DiNozzo I know that with everything that's gone down you have no reason to trust me. All I can do is show you."
"You're right. I don't trust you. And good luck changing my mind," Tony replied without so much as bothering to look at the other man.
The detective didn't respond and set about removing the restraints securing Tony's wrists. Gibbs looked back to Tony's face. Just speaking a few sentences seemed to have drained what little energy he had left. He had closed his eyes again and was still.
But it only lasted a few heartbeats. Then suddenly he hissed out in pain and tried to jerked his hands out of St. Clair's grasp. The detective had gotten the handcuffs off but was still working on the rope.
"DiNozzo calm down. He's trying to free your hands," Gibbs encouraged his agent.
"I don't think that's why he reacted like that," St. Clair chimed in.
Gibbs turned to look over in his direction. Finding him focused down on Tony's hands the team leader looked downward. In the faint red glow created by the flashlight he could tell there was a mark or injury of some kind but it was hard to determine exactly.
"What is that?" Gibbs questioned.
"It's hard to be sure in the dark but I think it's a burn. I must have brushed against it when I was getting the ropes undone."
"A burn?"
"Yeah. It's about the same size as the others so likely from the same source."
"What do you mean the others?" Gibbs snapped back at him. He made no effort to disguise the anger in his tone.
"There are few more like this on the back of his neck and shoulders. Looks to be first degree but everything is kind of washed out with the night vision. Maybe second degree."
"This was that bastard Greene, wasn't it? Were you a part of this?"
"I swear to you Agent Gibbs this is my first time seeing these," St. Clair tossed back without hesitation.
"Better be."
"If you don't believe me then ask Agent DiNozzo. I wasn't there."
"And if you had been there would you even have tried to stop it?"
The detective didn't immediately reply and was focused back on the restraints binding Tony's wrists. So Gibbs reached over and grabbed his arm to draw his attention.
"Hey! You answer me."
"I don't know! Okay. I don't know what I would have done if I had been there. With what I know now - maybe. But before that I don't know. Probably not."
"You're a real jackass, aren't you?"
"Maybe I am! But I'm trying to be straight with you. I can't undo any of it. Now really isn't the time to debate this, is it? Greene and Marcus could come back at any minute. If they come back and find us in the middle of this we're all effing screwed."
"Can't trust him Boss," Tony's voice piped in weakly.
"Detective St. Clair knows exactly where he stands with me. Isn't that right St. Clair?"
"Yeah. I've got the picture alright," St. Clair snapped back. His voice soaked through with irritation.
"Trust isn't a handout. It's earned!" Gibbs shot right back.
"Let me guess, Agent Gibbs, with you, that's a hard mark to hit."
"Damn straight."
The detective didn't offer a verbal response. Having finally freed Tony's hands from their restraints he got to his feet. When he started to head for the doorway Gibbs spoke up.
"Where do you think you're going?"
"I'm going up on deck to take a look and make sure we're clear," St. Clair answered without stopping.
"One wrong move St. Clair and it only takes one bullet."
The detective didn't bother to respond to the warning but it was clear by the stiffening of his posture and the barely restrained agitation that he had heard it.
Gibbs watched as St. Clair passed through the doorway and out into the darkness beyond. He was torn between following the detective or staying with Tony. He really didn't like having St. Clair out of his sight even for a few minutes.
The chance still existed that this was not a plan to help them escape but a play set into motion by Greene as one of his mind games. It was a stretch but he wouldn't put it past the man. He realized suddenly that St. Clair had come around to helping them rather quickly and vehemently. And the detective had not said what had made him decide to help.
On the other hand, if this was some kind of twisted game of Greene's with Danny St. Clair as a key player the detective would have to be one hell of an actor to be pulling it off this well. And if he was then Gibbs never wanted to play poker with the man because there hadn't been a single tell yet.
A pained groan from Tony reminded him why he had not followed after Detective St. Clair. He shifted his gaze from the doorway and back down on the man laying on the floor beside him.
"Hey Tony. How you holding up?"
But Tony didn't respond to his words. So Gibbs reached over and gave him a gentle tap on the cheek. And he watched as the younger man struggled to get his eyelids open just halfway and then battle to keep them that way.
Gibbs saw the pain in Tony's eyes and it struck him hard. The other man was always so adept at masking any pain he was in and now it was clear as day displayed in his eyes and in his expression. The younger man wasn't even making an effort to conceal it. It made his loathing for William Tucker Greene rage all the more fiercely inside him.
"Tony, you think you can sit up?" Gibbs asked quietly. Tony nodded in reply. Bracing both palms down against the floor he pushed himself into sitting upright.
The shift in position seemed to help Tony's alertness. His gaze wandered the portion of the room illuminated by the flashlight. He then lifted his hand to his face and rubbed at his eyes with his fingertips.
"Please tell me I'm not the only one seeing red," Tony inquired quietly. Gibbs made a faint sound, akin to a chuckle at the wording of the question. Oh yeah he was seeing red alright and it had nothing to do with the lighting in the room.
"Lights are out. Flashlight has red LEDs."
"That's reassuring. Thought my eyes had gone hinky on me."
"Not you DiNozzo."
"Good to know."
Tony began to look around the room seemingly in search of something.
"Wasn't St. Clair here? Or did I imagine that? Head's a little foggy," he asked after a moment.
"He was here. Went to check that it was clear up on deck."
"I don't think we should trust him Boss. Could be some kind of trick."
There was an elongated beat of silence following the words. And when the senior agent finally spoke in reply his voice carried the faintest trace of sadness.
"I know you must have been looking over your shoulder every minute of every day for the last four years. I know that must have been hell. But we don't have a lot of options here DiNozzo. If you have a better plan I'm all ears."
Tony shifted his gaze to the floor, hanging his head slightly as he did so. A handful of heartbeats passed by before he looked back and replied.
"I wish I did. Because I don't like this. But I don't. Which means we are trusting a dirty cop who's a member of The Wheel."
"Never said it was a perfect plan."
"But it's all we got, right?"
"Look's that way."
"Let's get on with it then."
"You think you can walk?"
"Well, I guess we're about to find out," Tony replied as he slowly began to try and shift position. But his movements were cumbersome. Gibbs could tell that the younger man had made a goal out of getting up while only causing himself the minimal amount of pain possible.
The team lead wanted to reach down and simply haul his agent up in one swift motion like ripping off a Bandaid. But the reality was that Gibbs wasn't even sure where he could grasp hold of the man that wouldn't inflict more pain than assistance.
However soon it was clear that he was going to have to do it anyway. Tony had only made it into a kneeling position and he had paused to catch his breath and bite back on the pain which the movement had caused.
"Okay Tony I'm going to grab onto your arm and we go on three," Gibbs told him as he stood up. Then reached down and gained a grasp on Tony's upper arm.
"Five seems a bit more reasonable Boss," the younger man suggested.
"Three DiNozzo."
"Right. Three. Got it."
"One...two..."
"Three," Tony ground out through clenched teeth as he stood up using a combination of what sparse strength he could scrounge up and Gibbs' pull upward. As soon as he was vertical Gibbs had to immediately step in front of the younger man to steady him as he swayed precariously forward.
"You gonna pass out on me DiNozzo?"
"Why you placing bets?" Tony joked as he struggled to straighten back up on his own but made little headway. Gibbs who still had a hold of his arm as well as a hand rested on his shoulder lifted Tony's arm and slung it around his own shoulders.
"Nope. Just needed to know if I should get St. Clair back here to carry your ass."
"I think St. Clair has already dragged me around and manhandled me more than I care to think about too long, Boss."
Gibbs could not help but smirk at this response.
"Let's go home DiNozzo," he replied.
"Right behind...uh...beside you Boss," Tony came back.
Falling silent they slowly moved out through the doorway and worked their way along the narrow dark hallway.
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As soon as the elevator doors slid open Doctor Donald Mallard rushed out into the bullpen. He moved briskly down the aisle near the windows intent upon reaching his destination sooner than later. Veering off to the left he quickly reached the staircase. He had only climbed to the third step when he came to an abrupt stop.
The objective of his rushed pace was not where he had anticipated he would be. Instead Ducky spotted him on the opposite end of the bullpen area about to head off down the adjoining corridor. Hurriedly, the doctor descended the staircase and set out in pursuit. Fortunately, Leon Vance was moving at a leisurely pace and by the time Ducky reached the beginning of the hallway the other man was still well within earshot.
"Director! Director!" the doctor called out. His voice echoed with urgency in the corridor grabbing Leon Vance's attention. The younger man stopped and turned around in search of the source of the voice calling after him. Ducky hurried towards where he stood halfway down the hallway.
"What are doing here at this late hour Doctor Mallard? Everything alright?"
"Yes and no."
"Dare I ask?"
"I have the feeling you will want to hear this," Ducky implored him.
"Something more from the journal," Leon surmised. His gaze shifted and then settled upon the leather bound book the medical examiner carried with him.
"That's correct."
"And?" Vance inquired and once again met Ducky's gaze.
"Perhaps somewhere a little more private."
"Alright. We can use the conference room just down here," the director replied and began walking again. Ducky followed after him without delay.
Once they had arrived at the meeting room and found it empty both men stepped inside. The Director closed the door at their backs.
"So I take it Devon Davis had more to say for himself," he stated now that they were in private.
"You might say that Mr. Davis is a man full of surprises."
"And which surprise has resulted in our little impromptu meeting here?" Vance questioned.
"I have read quite a bit more in the journal and I have gotten up to a few months ago in terms of a timeline. Apparently, The Wheel has something called a Scout Order. It's much like what we would call a BOLO. Several months back the leaders of the organization issued out one of these Scout Orders to its members based off information they had received from a member in Colorado. The member had reported seeing a man who had previously been involved with The Wheel but who they believed was deceased. This man had supposedly been taken out by the organization some years prior due to what in their world constituted being a traitor."
"And what did this man do that resulted in The Wheel taking such extreme measures to eliminate him?"
"He pretended to be one of them when his real agenda was to gather information to use to dismantle their organization."
"Wait a minute! Are you talking about Agent DiNozzo?" Director Vance piped in.
"None other."
"So some Wheel member in Colorado saw someone who looked like DiNozzo and reported it."
"The Wheel member insisted he was not mistaken. And the leaders concurred and issued the Scout Order."
"Are you saying that The Wheel believed that Agent DiNozzo had survived the shooting?"
"Yes. The member out in Denver who had seen the man had known Anthony – interacted with him when the member resided in Virginia. The Wheel, therefore, considered his report credible enough to issue the Scout Order. Reports back on sightings of this man began to trickle in. Some of them were strong matches. As if that wasn't surprising enough as I read on Davis' reaction proved to be even more unexpected."
"How so?"
"Devon became determined to figure out if Anthony had survived. And if he had then Devon desperately desired to find him before The Wheel did."
"Wanted to finish the job he started?" Leon guessed confidently.
"Quite the opposite. If Anthony were alive he wanted to get to him first so he could try and convince him to team up to take down the organization. And not just because he now took exception to some of their practices but also because of his brother. Aaron Davis at this point had become a true die hard believer in The Wheel's mission. He no longer listened to Devon's advice or guidance as he previously did and had been taken under the wing of one of the high leaders. A man Davis only refers to as Billy. This distressed Devon greatly because this leader who was now his brother's mentor was Wheel through and through – willing to do anything to preserve his interpretation of its purpose and traditions. Despite their constant feuding Devon was concerned for the path his brother was headed down and hoped to free him from its grasp and then expose the organization. But he feared that his illness would take him before he could do it. So he hoped that he could find Anthony and give him the additional information and evidence needed to break The Wheel at its core if he didn't live long enough to do it himself."
A quiet moment fell between the two. Ducky could tell from the intense focus in the director's expression that the gears were turning in his mind. He remained silent to allow the other man time to process the information he had just been given. And when Vance finally spoke up it was with the expected skepticism.
"While that is surprising let's not jump the gun here. Davis was ill and on a considerable amount of medication. And by your own findings – being poisoned. Is it possible that all this is something he conjured up in his mind? This whole scenario of a sighting of man who everyone believed had died four years ago at his hand. In our last meeting you said Davis was looking for redemption. In addition he was distressed over being at odds with his little brother. Couldn't this be the deluded wishful thinking of a guilty dying man."
"Of course that is a possibility."
"I get the impression that you don't think that's the case."
"No Director. I do not."
"Based off?"
"Although his body was failing him his mind shows no defect. Well, at least not to the point of delusional thinking. Certainly it takes a particular mindset to become a leader in The Wheel but the journal does not provide evidence of anything more clinical. This was not the result of fantastical thinking or psychosis."
"So what you are saying is that Devon Davis truly and sanely believed that there was a chance that Agent DiNozzo survived the shooting and that he was out there somewhere to be found. And that Davis was so disenchanted with The Wheel that he secretly intended to seek out DiNozzo and work with him to dismantle the organization."
"As far fetched as it sounds – yes."
"And this is not perhaps a product of your own wishful thinking? I apologize Doctor but I have to ask."
"No Director. The Wheel member who made the report about the first sighting in Denver lived in Virginia four years ago. He interacted with Anthony on more than one occasion within the organization. Even though at this point Devon Davis was not in particularly good standing with the other leaders he somehow managed to gain access to and copy a partial list of the reports which resulted from the Scout Order. He then concealed the list in a hiding spot in his bookcase. I don't think he was supposed to have it. He was in such disfavor with most of the other leaders at this point that they had cut him off financially resulting in him having to take up residence in that decrepit apartment building and the culmination of that stack of past due medical bills I came across."
"So that's what was in that hollowed out shelf we found during our search."
"And remember the papers which Timothy found outside the apartment building. The ones dropped by the people he and Jethro chased. Is it possible they are one and the same?"
"I'm sure if Agent Gibbs were present he would remind me of his opinion on coincidences."
"Most assuredly. Can this really be happening? I mean is there really a chance Anthony survived the bullet from Devon Davis' rifle?" Ducky questioned. He desperately needed to hear someone else's thoughts on the theory.
"I honestly don't know. It seems a stretch. And if it is true then where is Agent DiNozzo? Why wouldn't he have contacted someone? Surely he would have trusted Agent Gibbs."
"I can't speak to that other than perhaps that there was an obstacle in the way keeping him from doing so. An obstacle that he simply couldn't overcome."
"Well nothing has been confirmed. This is all just supposition. I will need you to keep this quiet until we have more information."
"Of course. I still have reading to do. Perhaps I'll come across some more clues."
"If you do let me know immediately. I'm going to do some checking of my own."
"Very well then," Ducky responded.
The director nodded in reply and headed back out into the hallway. Alone in the conference room Ducky sat down in one of the chairs and placed the journal on the table in front of him. His hands now free he took off his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. He suddenly felt beyond weary.
After a moment he put his glasses back on and looked down upon the leather bound book on the table. As he did so the director's words from a few moments earlier traveled through his mind.
"And this is not perhaps a product of your own wishful thinking? I apologize Doctor but I have to ask."
Now reflecting on the other man's question a bit longer its validity sunk it. He had spent hour upon hour reading the inner most thoughts of a dying man who held many a regret about how had lived his life. Ducky pondered on this for a long moment. Had he let Davis' desperation cloud his own judgment? Was it simply nothing more than wishful thinking that there might be a sliver of hope that Anthony had survived being shot then falling into the frigid water of that bay? Odds of survival would have been incredibly slim. And it had been four years gone by without so much as the tiniest indication that Anthony had beaten those rather steep odds.
Perhaps Director Vance had a point. Maybe he needed to take a step back and some time away from the journal's pages. A night's sleep might well be in order.
He lifted his gaze up away from the journal but before he could even begin to stand another voice came to life in his thoughts.
"Go with your gut, Duck!"
The words Jethro had spoken to him many a time now reverberated in his mind. Pondering them he once again looked down at the book on the table. If he took the other man's advice where did it lead to?
It did not take long to come up with the answer. And it was so clear he couldn't help but speak it softly aloud.
"Well, Anthony, if anyone could beat the odds to survive being shot and falling into the water on a rather crisp October day it would be you, wouldn't it my dear boy? You did take the victory in your battle with Yersinia Pestis after all, didn't you? And then survived nearly being blown to bits only a few weeks later? I am certainly no mathematician but I should think that the odds of that are phenomenally small."
Picking up the journal Ducky stood up. But he did not head for the door straight away. As the realization of what he was proposing sunk into him the inevitable crashed in on him in its wake. What if he was too tightly embracing the slight chance? What if he got his hopes up only to have them dashed?
There was one way to help keep that from happening. He would have to calculate a bit more precisely how slim Anthony's odds of surviving would have been. He would have to keep his investigating quiet, even from Mr. Palmer, in the event the odds turned out without much hope.
Weariness creeping back up on him the medical examiner decided to take his own advice at present and get a night's sleep.
"Now to ponder on what out of the office errands I can have Mr. Palmer attend to in the morning?" Ducky contemplated as he made his way through the doorway and out into the corridor.
"I am positive I can think up a thing or two to occupy his time," he added with a mischievous smile as he headed off.
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With every step they took Gibbs could feel Tony have to struggle more and more to simply place one foot in front of the other. He could feel the rigidity to the younger man's muscles as he helped support him while they moved along. There was a near tremble to his body every time they put another step behind them. And almost worse yet was that the younger man hadn't uttered a word since they had departed the cabin and headed towards the deck.
They had met St. Clair on his return trip from above. The detective had taken up on Tony's right side and slung the other man's arm over his shoulder. Even with Gibbs supporting him in a similar fashion on his left their progress was not exactly fast or fluid. Several stops had been made to allow DiNozzo to rest for a moment. And without fail each time St. Clair had offered to shoulder the other man's weight and carry him the rest of the way.
Gibbs had not been opposed to it knowing what bad shape Tony must be in to outwardly show so much struggle. But Tony himself had flat out refused each and every time with a adamant shake of the head. Even going so far as to roughly shove St. Clair away with a palm to the chest when the detective had made the offer a second time in one stop.
The senior agent knew that if they were able to support Tony more significantly the younger man wouldn't have to set forth such effort to simply walk forward. But much of anything more than slinging his arms around their shoulders would likely inflict major hurt on Tony. Gibbs had been forcing himself to stay focused on escaping. That meant that thus far he had put off any close inspection of the injuries his agent had sustained. But it had been impossible to miss the blood that seeped through the fabric at the back of Tony's shirt. Whatever he and St. Clair had heard Greene inflicting on Tony had likely been focused on his back. Based off the sounds they had overheard Tony had likely taken a lashing.
They were moving at the quickest pace Tony could tolerate. But as the minutes ticked by St. Clair grew more and more agitated right along with their passing. Every moment longer they stayed on the boat increased the risk of Greene returning.
Truth be told Gibbs had been so focused on Tony and their escape he had not even had the chance to formulate much of a plan for if they did get caught. And an even bigger concern was whether or not St. Clair would fight along side of them if they did.
The train of thought was abruptly interrupted as he felt Tony's increased unsteadiness beside him. Within the next breath Tony's knees buckled. Gibbs managed to grab onto him with his other hand before he actually hit the floor. But the action sent a sharp streak of pain through his wounded shoulder and down along his arm. Fortunately, Tony recovered quickly and Gibbs was able to release his hold.
They stayed paused a moment while Tony settled his balance. Just as they were about to set out again a harsh thud sound emanating from the direction of the deck broke the silence. All three men froze in place and listened for anything further.
The same sound came again. And St. Clair audibly let out a breath then spoke up.
"It's okay. It's just a equipment box up on deck. It has a broken latch and every time the wind kicks up real good it catches the lid. And opens and closes it. I recognize the sound."
"You sure?" Gibbs questioned.
"Hundred percent. But that's it. I'm carrying him," the detective stated. And despite his near collapse Tony still resisted the offer with a shake of the head. St. Clair however was done accepting that answer and spoke up again.
"Enough already. Just fucking stop! If we don't speed this up Greene is going to come back and catch us. Is that what you want? If he does he's going to kill you sooner than later and it ain't going to be pretty trust me. He sees you as a traitor. He was already planning on killing both of you but if he catches you escaping he'll lose it. Remember the beating with that flashlight? That'll be nothing in comparison."
"I'm fine. I can make it."
"DiNozzo," Gibbs responded in frustration.
"Boss I can do it."
"How much further?" Gibbs questi0ned the detective.
"Not much.""
"Alright DiNozzo. Do your best to speed it up or he's carrying you with no debate from you."
"Got it."
As they began moving again Tony did push out a faster pace but it was only managed with great effort and a string of pained groans.
The added rate of progress meant they arrived up on deck in only a few moments time. Once there St. Clair separated from them and headed for where the rowboat was stored. Gibbs assisted Tony in lowering himself down to sit on the deck floor so he could rest for a moment. When Tony didn't offer up even an ounce of resistance it was clear he needed the respite from moving around.
With the younger man settled and leaned up against one of the equipment storage boxes for support Gibbs followed after the detective who was a few dozen feet away getting the rowboat ready to be lowered into the water. The team lead immediately jumped in working with the other man to lower the small craft downward.
"Aren't you even going to ask what made me help you?" St. Clair questioned breaking the silence that had persisted as they worked.
"Got a few other things on my mind," Gibbs replied. The silence dropped heavily back between them for the long string of moments it took to complete the task at hand. When it was done Gibbs had just turned away to return to Tony when St. Clair suddenly spoke up. His voice was tense and filled with what Gibbs would have sworn was regret.
"The sedative I gave you and the antibiotic...they...," he started to say but seemed to lose hold of the rest of the words along the way.
"What about them?" Gibbs encouraged him pivoting back around to face the detective. It took a long moment of St. Clair looking away to stare off into the darkness which lay beyond the boat's deck before the answer came. But when the detective turned his head back in the NCIS agent's direction he immediately forced the words he wanted to say out into the air.
"Greene laced them with poison. I swear I didn't know until after I had already given them to you."
"You poisoned me?" Gibbs spat out in anger.
"I swear to you it was Greene. He told me after. Look he didn't even tell me what kind of poison it was. Not really. Only that it was mostly plant based, including water hemlock and English Yew. But they are altered somehow. And he said there was also a toxin designed by the organization. As soon as you get onshore you need to get medical help."
"So he screwed with you and now you are returning the favor. That it?"
"Has nothing to do with him. It has to do with me," the detective replied in agitation.
"Got in over your head huh St. Clair."
"No. I got involved because when my brother came back from Afghanistan he was all kinds of messed up. And the United States Army decided paperwork was more important than his well being. Billy made things happen that the military didn't."
"That's a hefty debt."
"It's what I told you before. We do what we have to do. I couldn't have lived with knowing I could have done something to help him and chose not to do it. I can live with the choice I made for myself – getting involved with The Wheel to help Drew. What I can't live with is knowing that I led Greene directly to Agent DiNozzo and that opened the door for him to be tortured and killed. I'm the reason that DiNozzo is on this boat. I brought Greene to him. That's on me. I can't take it back. I chose to do what I did. But I can own it and try to do the right thing now," the detective explained. When he was done he stuffed a hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out a small envelope. He held it out to Gibbs.
"What's this?" Gibbs asked taking it from him.
"That's the pill Sutton tried to shove down your throat. Maybe they can figure out the poison from it. Best I can do. Greene might be keeping track of the bottles he gave me. But since that pill went on the floor he might buy that I tossed it. So it won't be missed."
"Time to share the rest of your plan St. Clair," the team lead replied while tucking the envelope into his pocket.
"Right. Okay, we've been weaving our way in and around the dozens of islands off the coast."
"I saw open ocean. You better not be lying to me," Gibbs stated with suspicion and warning hard set in his tone.
"We were out of the islands briefly while we made a wide arc north to reach the island Greene has his meeting on. I don't know which one exactly."
Gibbs nodded in tentative acceptance and St. Clair continued on in his explanation.
"Right now we're in a passage between two islands. I contacted a buddy of mine, a fisherman, who comes back through this way coming in at the end of his run. He's looking for you guys. He'll pick you up and take you back to shore."
"What the hell kind of crappy plan is that, St. Clair? You expect him to find us in rowboat at night out on the water!" Gibbs snapped out at the other man.
"He has our coordinates here. And this particular passage isn't very wide. You just need to stay headed south. I waited until he was close to come get you guys. He knows these islands and passages and their currents like the back of his hand. He'll find you. He'll signal you with his flood lights. I'd give you a flare but Greene might see it so it's too risky."
"Dammit St. Clair."
"Listen to me. This guy could find a empty life preserver in open water if he knows generally where to look. He's helped on hundreds of missings at sea. He'll find you easy."
"You'd damn better hope so."
"He will. Name of his boat is the Molly Anne," the detective responded then scooped up a backpack from the deck a few feet away.
"This is for you guys. Just a few things I gathered up. Thought they might be useful to ya."
Gibbs took the pack St. Clair held out to him. Unzipping it he shone his flashlight inside. Skimming the red glow over the contents revealed nothing more than what the other man had stated it contained. But checking to be sure was necessary. He closed the zipper back up and slung the backpack over his shoulder.
"Got room on the rowboat for ya," he offered. For a breath it felt as if the other man would take him up on it but that sense shifted in the other direction just as St. Clair spoke up.
"I can't. If I stay there's a chance I can make it look like you got free, took me by surprise, restrained me and then escaped. If I go with you he'll know and go after the people I care about. At least this way there's a chance."
Gibbs silently accepted the answer. He didn't think pushing the matter would go over well with the detective. From what he had seen it would likely only make the man dig his heels in deeper. So Gibbs would ask one more time before they departed and take whatever answer came. He doubted that the second offer would garner a different response but in case the other man just needed a moment to be able to accept it he would try again.
The rowboat now settled in the water near the bottom of the ladder which ran down along the ship's side Gibbs and St. Clair made their way back to over to Tony.
DiNozzo must have heard them as they came into earshot because he looked their way as they approached.
"What's the plan Boss?" he asked. His voice was still raw sounding but it had more energy in it than earlier.
"Rowboat. Then a fishing vessel," Gibbs answered him.
"Fishing boat?" Tony questioned back. It was St. Clair who supplied the answer.
"Buddy of mine. Coming through this way."
Gibbs could see right away that his agent was going to put up debate. Probably about the trustworthiness of this friend of St. Clair's. So he spoke up changing the subject before DiNozzo even had the chance to open his mouth to speak.
"You're sure you won't come with us?" he inquired of the detective.
"I can't risk him going after my people. I'll make this work. I've rigged the footage from the cameras. Learned a thing or two from the tech guy at headquarters. It'll look like the power went out. I went to check on you. You had gotten free and took me by surprise. Then escaped."
"Watch your back St. Clair," Gibbs stated matter of factly.
"You too. Greene can turn on a dime and when he discovers you two are gone he's gonna lose it. You should have seen him back in those woods. One wrong remark from DiNozzo and Greene nearly beat him to death with a flashlight. He went from calm and composed to waling on Agent DiNozzo in the blink of an eye. And when he comes after you not only is he going to be pissed he's going to bring company. Lots of it."
"He's gonna need it," Gibbs replied. After a beat he made the detective one final offer.
"Last chance."
"I have to stay. If I leave he'll go after my people to get to me. This is the only way. I'll make it work."
To this Gibbs nodded and held out his hand. After a still beat the detective held out his own hand. The handshake conveyed what words could not. St. Clair had been true to his word and helped them escape. The gesture of appreciation had been earned.
As soon as their hands had separated Gibbs began to move closer to Tony who was working at getting up from his seat on the deck floor. But before he reached the younger man St. Clair's voice piped up from behind him.
"There's something I need you to do for me before you go."
"Let me guess you want your gun back," Gibbs tossed out and turned around to face him.
"No, actually, I need you to keep that. Greene needs to think you took it from me."
"Got no problem with that seeing as that's what happened."
"Only because I let you."
"You keep right on thinking that. What then?" the team leader responded with a hint to his tone that indicated his patience was starting to run thin.
St. Clair went about removing his night vision goggles. Once he was free of them he set them down carefully on the deck. After straightening up he finally told Gibbs his request.
"I need you to hit me," he stated.
Gibbs allowed the smirk which he felt rising up in him to flash onto his face for a heartbeat. Then a bit more serious expression developed as he replied.
"Ah I see. More convincing that way. Looks like you put up a fight."
"That's the plan."
"You sure about this?" the team leader questioned as he set the backpack down on the deck.
"Do I want to let you take a swing on me? Hell no! But it has to be done."
"He asked for it Boss," Tony tossed out from where he stood a few feet behind Gibbs.
"Come on. I'm ready. I can take it," the detective stated while adjusting his stance. Feet shoulder width apart braced down on the deck and his posture malleable enough to help absorb the impact without completely giving.
This show of preparedness brought the smirk back to Gibbs' face.
"You sure?"
"Would you damn hit me already!" St. Clair snapped out. He barely got the last word out when Gibbs hauled off and slugged him square in the left eye. The detective stumbled back from the impact. While attempting to regain his balance he found his way into a pile of gear laid out on the deck. In the next heartbeat he was down on the floor.
"Geez St. Clair. You were the one asked me to punch you. And you couldn't even stay on your feet," the team leader grumbled. The detective was still for a moment, seemingly dazed. But finally his voice piped up.
"I tripped," he snapped out while maneuvering into a sitting position amongst the pile of equipment.
"Get that excuse a lot," Gibbs replied. St. Clair had his hand held up to his right temple. The team lead watched as he pulled it away. There was blood on his fingers and a nasty gash on his head. Gibbs moved to him and squatted down in front of where he was seated on the deck. The other man definitely seemed a little dazed.
"Must have hit my head on something down here," St. Clair mumbled more to himself than to the NCIS agent and still staring down at the blood on his hand. Gibbs started to reach out to take hold of the detective's head to steady it so he could inspect the wound. But the action seemed to jolt St. Clair out of his stupor. He roughly knocked Gibbs' hand away.
"It's just a cut. I'll survive," St. Clair grumbled as he scrambled to get to his feet.
"Have it your way," Gibbs replied and stood up as well. For a long beat the detective collected himself and did his best to shake off any appearance of weakness or embarrassment. When he finally spoke up it was as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened.
"One last thing," he said.
"You're just full of requests aren't you St. Clair. Now what?"
"I need you to handcuff me to the railing. And then secure my hands so that it would be impossible for me to pick the cuffs. Ankles too. Here's the cuffs and the rope is in the equipment box over there," he explained and held up the set of cuffs he had pulled from his waistband.
Gibbs tossed him a questioning glance checking to make sure the detective was truly prepared to be completely restrained. Once it was done and he and DiNozzo left the boat St. Clair would be unable to free himself and completely vulnerable. It was a huge risk.
"There's no way you would leave me without ensuring I wouldn't get free, would you? Ya know - if this was real."
"Fair enough," Gibbs replied taking the handcuffs from the other man.
St. Clair moved over to the railing which ran along the wall and sat down on the deck. When he had settled there the NCIS team lead went about cuffing the detective's right hand to the railing. Once that was done he went over to the storage box St. Clair had indicated earlier. He opened it and dug around inside for a moment – coming up with several items he needed. Everything except the rope he stuffed into his pockets. Returning to where St. Clair was seated he went to work at tying the other man's hands and wrists together and then binding his ankles as well.
When he was done there was no way St. Clair would be able to get out of it. Looking down at his handiwork a fleeting urge passed through him to configure one of the knots so the detective could use it as a fail safe if the situation became dire. Like perhaps if Sutton came around too early and found St. Clair alone and restrained. The two did not seem particularly enamored with one another.
"It has to look real under scrutiny," the detective stated quietly. He must have seen something – a tell of some kind – which had tuned him into Gibbs' line of thought.
The NCIS agent simply nodded and stood up. His gaze shifted away from St. Clair as he sensed Tony had made his way over to stand beside him. He had retrieved the backpack and had the strap grasped in his right hand to carry it by. The younger man seemed to have recovered a bit of energy and strength. He did have a grip on the railing beside him but he was steadier than before. Both he and Tony's attentions were drawn downward when St. Clair's voice came to life.
"Agent DiNozzo."
"Yeah," Tony replied.
"I'm giving him something to work with. All I can do is hope that combined with knowing our cases were straight will be enough for him."
"I'm sure it'll mean a lot," Tony replied. And the detective offered back a nod of the head and the faintest and briefest of smiles. It indicated that they had come to some kind of understanding. Gibbs was not clued into what it was but could feel the substantial weight of its importance in the air.
"We good?" the team leader asked the detective.
"Yeah. Just take the night vision goggles with you when you go so it looks like you took those from me too. Otherwise I think that's everything."
Gibbs gave a bob of the head in acknowledgment.
"We should get going Boss," Tony pressed from beside him.
"One last thing to take care of DiNozzo," he responded.
After tucking the flashlight under his arm and holding it there by pressing his upper arm in towards his body he reached into his pocket. And pulled out an item he had found in the storage box a few moments earlier.
Tony let out a small huff of air beside him. Gibbs recognized it as Tony's version of chuckle when the younger man was thoroughly exhausted. Clearly Tony had realized what he was going to do the instant he had seen the item.
Gibbs looked up long enough to exchange a glance with him. Then peeled a strip of tape away from the roll in his hands. Tearing the piece from the rest he slipped the roll back in his pocket. That done he took one end of the strip of tape in each hand, bent down and placed the tape securely over St. Clair's mouth.
The detective immediately began protesting but his complaints were muffled and inaudible underneath the tape. The cursing, however, seemed to somehow come through loud and clear. Gibbs shook his head and then responded to the protests.
"Careful what you ask for St. Clair. You wanted it real. More than happy to deliver on the request."
Straightening up he went over and scooped up the night vision goggles. By the time he returned the detective had quieted down and was now just glaring at him. He noticed Tony's gaze was skyward.
"See something DiNozzo?"
"It look like rain to you Boss?"
Not quite sure where his agent was headed with this he glanced up the sky. Finding a blanket of clouds there he stole a glance over at Tony who threw a silent message his way.
"Yep. Looks like a downpour coming," Gibbs responded verbally. Tony's message had conveyed for him to agree wholeheartedly so he had and that this was for St. Clair ears really. Gibbs just didn't have a clue what it meant. He would have to ask about it later.
But, apparently, it had its desired effect as St. Clair's gaze focused on the cloud filled sky for a long moment before it shifted to throw Tony an irritated glare.
"I think our work here is done Boss," Tony stated confidently.
"Yep. I'd say so," he replied.
Carrying the goggles and the flashlight in one hand he positioned himself beside the younger man. Tony slung his arm around Gibbs shoulders and the team lead supported Tony with his free arm braced around Tony's waist. Once situated they made their way across the deck to where the ladder was stationed down over the side of the boat.
Tony seemed stronger now. Gibbs had been concerned about getting the other man down the ladder but Tony felt solid enough that he was confident he could make it unaided.
And taking it slow but steady the younger man was able to descend to the rowboat without incident. Gibbs followed and then went about releasing the small craft from the larger one. As he settled into his seat he looked to Tony and spoke up.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Just peachy Boss if you don't count the whole feeling like I got hit by a train thing."
"Not that DiNozzo."
"Oh. Then I'm confused. What are we talking about?"
"With St. Clair just now."
"I just told him a little story earlier. A story about how partners react when they find out you're keeping secrets."
"I'm guessing that it didn't go over well at the time."
"Oh no. And I have the lump on the side of my head to prove it."
"Seems to be taking it better now."
"I guess you'd say we came to an understanding with each other on the matter."
Silence fell back between them. The team leader handed the flashlight and the compass which he had taken from St. Clair to Tony. Then went about making sure the backpack and goggles were tucked away securely.
Gibbs knew that for Tony sharing what had gone down with Danny Price had not been easy. He hadn't exactly been overly chatty about it when it first happened back in Baltimore and he had become even more tight lipped about it as the years had gone on.
By the time Price was murdered Tony had buried his emotions surrounding it deep down – secured away in a kind of mental lockbox. Reopening the wound had really shaken DiNozzo badly despite his insistence it had not. In fact, it had revived such a eclectic mixture of emotions that Tony had not even been able to look at Price's body in autopsy. He had looked anywhere but there. The reason for the averted gaze could have been anything from avoiding the sadness which looking at his dead partner might have brought up all the way through to residual anger and feelings of betrayal for someone who had been a friend one minute turned complete stranger the next.
Gibbs figured that for Tony to talk about Price, especially now after having just spent four years keeping the truth about his real identity and life so very close to the vest, it must have taken a lot of strength to accomplish. And he was sure it had taken its toll on the younger man.
"And the thing with the rain?" he questioned in attempt to divert from the road his thinking was traveling down.
"On Greene's order St. Clair and Sutton dragged me out on deck, cuffed me to the railing and left me out in the rain. That's when St. Clair and I had our little chat about partners."
Gibbs let out a chuckle and hoped his prediction about the downpour came to pass. Detective St. Clair could use a good drenching.
"Yep looks like rain," Gibbs commented. Then took up the oar and began to row. As they drifted away they could faintly make out the name written out on side of the larger vessel.
The Blue Northern was a name neither of them would ever forget.
To Be Continued...
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Thanks for reading and reviewing!
Author's Note: Holy cramole! I've been straight out pulling a lot of extra shifts because we have been down a few out on extended leave for various reasons. So I have been working with a dash of more work added in and then topped off with a truckload of more work. I have just in the last week or so become re-acquainted with sleep. After that I owed you guys so I broke my own rule (that I have to work some on my book before working on fanfiction) so that I could get this chapter edited and posted.
When I originally wrote Chapter 13 way back when apparently I got just a tad carried away. I say this because now upon going in to edit it I discovered I had written a 21,000 word chapter. Yes, you read that correctly – twenty one thousand. After careful consideration I have dug down deep and managed to scrounge up a shred of mercy in this evil fanfic writer's heart of mine. Therefore, I decided to break it out into two chapters – Chapters 13 and Chapter 14. That means Chapter 14 is all edited and ready to go but I think I might hold off from posting it straight away – ya know see what the interest level is. (grins evilly) It's all about supply and demand after all, right? I wouldn't want to show too much mercy or I might tarnish my evil fanfic writer reputation. Or maybe I'm just channeling the character of William Tucker Greene a wee bit too strongly today. So I guess I better leave it up to the readers.
Also decided upon the fic I will write next. It's tentatively titled Day's Darkest Dawn.