Probable Cause

Disclaimer: You know the drill. I own nothing except my demented sense of imagination.

Chapter 5

Tony opened his eyes and immediately closed them again, wincing at the brighter-than-expected light. A soft groan escaped as the pain in his throat registered and he tried to raise his hand to check on the damage, only to find he barely had the strength to do so.

"Tony?"

His eyes snapped open at the sound of a familiar voice. "Boss?" he croaked, and turned his head to see Gibbs sitting in a chair next to the bed upon which Tony was reclined. "What…what happened?" Before Gibbs could answer Tony's memories came rushing back. "Someone was in my cell. They tried…" Tony reached for his throat again and Gibbs gently moved his hands away.

"Tried to kill you. One of the guards. Waiting for him to wake up so we can question him."

"One of the…?" Suddenly his memories came rushing back and Tony squeezed his eyes shut. "Should have let him." To his great surprise, Tony felt Gibbs' hand connect with the back of his head. He opened is eyes and stared at the older man. "What-?"

"What happened to McGee was not your fault."

"But Boss, I stabbed him. Even if I was drugged, it was my hand on that knife. Tim will always remember me trying to kill him."

"You were drugged. Abby confirmed it. And you didn't stab him, Tony. Tim remembers that."

"What? But when he finally woke up, he was begging me not to kill him. Right?"

"Who told you that?" Gibbs expression was thunderous.

"Lt. Doyle. He said…he lied?"

"Wasn't supposed to be there. Guess he heard...damn it."

"Heard what?"

"Tim wasn't…all there when he woke up the first time. He's better now." Gibbs chuckled softly. "Worried about you."

"Me? Why?"

"He was afraid the men that attacked him had killed you. He was beggin' for your life, not his."

"What?"

Gibbs shook his head. "You were the target. They just used Tim to get to you." Gibbs expression darkened. "Told Tim he was collateral damage."

Tony felt a surge of anger and sat up, groaning as his aching muscles protested the sudden change. "He's not 'collateral damage', damn it!"

"Ya think I don't know that?"

"Sorry. But why? Why was I targeted?"

"Workin' on that. You're not the only target, though."

"Who-?"

"Your father. They're after him, too. Told Tim they wanted to 'destroy' both of you. You first, then him."

Tony felt sick. "What in the hell did my father do to piss someone off that much?"

"Workin' on that, too. You ready to help?"

"Help? How? I'm still a prisoner, right?'

"Nope. Release papers have been signed. I was coming to tell you when all hell broke loose."

"Always did have good timing, Boss."

Gibbs picked up a duffle bag that had been sitting at his feet and held it out to Tony. "Go on, go get cleaned up," he instructed, pointing to a door opposite Tony's bed. Tony took the bag and headed for the bathroom, glad to be rid of his prisoner garb.

Ten minutes later he emerged, dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt, clean shaven but his hair still slightly damp. A rather nervous-looking man in a suit was waiting with Gibbs. The man looked vaguely familiar, but Tony couldn't immediately place him.

"Agent DiNozzo," he began after clearing his throat. "I am Dr. Phillip Merchant, director of this facility. Please allow me to apologize for the treatment you received at the hands of one of my employees." Merchant stopped abruptly as he apparently realized what he had just said and blushed. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to put it quite like that…"

"Who attacked me?"

"Paul Dunfield, one of the security officers. He was, ah, rendered unconscious by Agent Gibbs, but he has recovered and is awaiting your questions."

"You ready, Tony?"

"Yeah, Boss."

Gibbs turned to Merchant. "Remember what I said."

"Of course. Completely confidential."

Gibbs' expression told Tony all he needed to know about the lead agent's faith in that statement. He followed Gibbs through the doorway of the infirmary and down the hall until they reached a small observation room. It was similar to interrogation at NCIS only in that there was a one-way mirror in one wall. The recording and video equipment were minimal, and the room beyond was painted white instead of industrial grey. Their suspect was shackled to a sturdy metal chair, trying to hide his fear and failing miserably.

"Stay here."

Tony started to protest but one look from Gibbs silenced him. He watched as the lead agent disappeared through the door and re-appeared a moment later as he walked into the room that held the suspect.

"Who are you? What's going on? Why am I here?" Dunfield's rapid-fire questions, an attempt to cover his own anxiety, caused Tony's heart to sink. He was all too familiar with how that felt.

"Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS. You're here because you strangled one of the patients."

Dunfield's face turned pale, then bright red. "You're crazy! I would never do anything like that!"

"We have security footage of you entering his room just before the attack."

"That's impossible! I would never...I didn't…" He looked down at his own hands, turning them slightly as he seemed to look for some evidence of the deed on them.

"Trust me, you did."

"I don't remember going to the wards, I swear!"

"What do you remember?"

"I…I came in at the usual time, 8 PM, and filled out the usual paperwork. Checked the logs, then I walked the perimeter before coming back to check the video monitors. The next thing I knew I was sitting here, chained up."

"You don't remember anything else? Anything out of the ordinary?"

"No, nothing…well, except…"

"Except what?"

"There was…a call on my cell phone. It was from a blocked number, and…when I answered, the person on the other end immediately said they had the wrong number. I swear, that's the only thing that wasn't routine. Well, except for waking up in this chair."

A chill passed through him as Tony felt a twist in the pit of his stomach. He had gotten a wrong number, just before he had tried to strangle Tim. Like Gibbs, he sure as hell didn't believe in coincidences, especially not where this case was concerned.

A worried expression crossed Dunfield's face. "The patient…is he OK? I didn't…?"

Gibbs turned and left without another word. A few moments later he walked into the observation room.

"Did you-?"

"—get a phone call? This first time I blacked out, when I tried to strangle Tim. I also got that text—that you couldn't find on my cell phone—before I went over to Tim's apartment." Tony started to pace. "Who in the hell are we dealing with here, Boss? This isn't some pissed-off ex-business partner. Nobody in my dad's social circle has that type of high-tech connections."

"As far as you know."

"Yeah…as far as I know. Wait. Where is my father now? Is someone-?"

"Ziva's got him at one of the safe houses."

Tony winced. That was a situation that just begged for a disaster. "What about Tim?"

"There's an agent stationed outside of his room, and security at Bethesda has been doubled. He's safe for now."

"So what are we going to do about…" Tony nodded his head towards the window of the observation room.

"Vance is sending another team to pick him up and take him back to NCIS. Abby will have to test his blood to see if he was given the same thing as you."

"What did they give me?"

"Not completely sure yet. Abby's working on it."

"Good. If anyone can figure this out, she can." Gibbs mouth curved up in a half-smile. "What about me?"

"We'll have to keep you out of sight, but we're gonna need your help on this, tracking down your father's associates." Gibbs studied him for a moment. "You up to this now?"

"Yeah, Boss. I'm good. Just one thing. Do you mind if we-?"

"—stop by Bethesda to check on McGee?" Gibbs' half smile widened to full force.

Tony grinned. "That obvious, huh?" Gibbs just smirked and headed for the door. Tony took one last glance at the man on the other side of the glass before he followed Gibbs out the door. Merchant was waiting for them in the hallway.

"Well? What happened? Why did he-?"

"Don't know yet, but we're going to find out. An agent will be here soon to take him back to NCIS."

"And what about…?" He glanced at Tony.

"He's coming with me. Not a word to anyone about what happened here tonight. Clear?"

"Of course, Agent Gibbs. We'll practice complete discretion."

"You'd better. Someone will keep you updated on Dunfield."

"Thank you. And Agent DiNozzo? Once again, let me—"

"Never apologize. It's a sign of weakness."

A puzzled expression crossed Merchant's face and Gibbs chuckled. "Let's go, DiNozzo."

Tony grinned. "On your six, Boss."

XXX

Special Agent Jeff Fisher rose from his seat and stretched, keeping an eye on the area as he did so. He really hated guard duty but he also knew that he still had to do the best job he could, given the circumstances: a fellow agent had been attacked, and his life was sill in danger. Fisher wasn't completely sure why, in a Navy hospital with currently twice the security as normal, he even needed to be here, but orders were orders. He could just chalk it up as another way to pass the time until his retirement, only two months away.

After he had eased the stiffness in his muscles somewhat, Fisher made a quick check of the patient he was guarding, who appeared to be sleeping peacefully, and settled back down into his chair. He stretched his legs out in front of him and leaned back with a sigh. His relief would be here soon, thankfully, and he could hurry back to the office to file his report before heading home to sleep in his own bed.

A flash of movement caught his attention and he turned to see one of the nurses approaching, cup in hand. She gave him a nervous smile as he stood to greet her.

"Evening. How's it going?"

"Quiet night." She held out the cup. "I thought you might like some real coffee. It's from the nurses' secret stash." She lowered her voice to a mock whisper. "Don't tell anyone."

Fisher grinned. "Your secret is safe with me." He accepted the cup and took a sniff. It smelled wonderful and he took a sip of the hot brew. "Everything OK?" He asked as she shifted from one foot to the other. "You look a little anxious."

"Oh, I'm OK, I just…" She glanced at his hip where his service pistol rested. "Guns make me a little nervous. Always have."

"Sorry, but it's all part of the job for me. The Director says I guard, so I guard, and that means I need my weapon."

"No, it's OK. I understand." She shifted again. "How much longer will you be here?"

"About an hour, I suppose, provided the next shift isn't late." He took another sip of the coffee, savoring the taste. "This is good, much better than the crap from the cafeteria. Thanks."

"You're welcome. Uh…enjoy the rest of your shift."

"You, too." He watched her leave then returned to his seat and drank more of the coffee. The cup was soon empty but the caffeine he had consumed did not seem to be having the desired effect. Damn, I hope that wasn't de-caf…

Two minutes later the cup fell from his hand as his chin came to rest against his chest and his eyes closed. He never saw the figure slip past him and through the open door into the room behind him, nor heard the door snap shut as the lights inside went out.

XXX

Tim awoke with a start and moaned softly as the pain in his chest reminded him where he was. His room was dark and quiet, but he had the distinct feeling that someone was in the room with him.

"Boss?" he whispered through his parched and aching throat. "Is that you?" He received no answer and immediately his heart began to beat faster as fear gripped him. The fact that he wasn't hearing that change in the heart monitor did not yet register as he searched the darkness for the intruder. "Who's there?"

The soft sound of shaky breathing reached his ears and he froze, terror sending his heart rate soaring as he struggled to draw in oxygen. Suddenly he was back in his apartment, waiting for the inevitable pain to pierce his chest and set his body aflame.

"No…please…don't…"

A dark figure appeared near his bed and he felt a hand, surprisingly gentle, on the back of his head as it was raised and then lowered again onto the firm surface of his mattress. His eyes had started to adjust to the darkness and he was able to see the bulky shape of his pillow being lowered over his face.

"Stop…please…"

Soon he was fighting to breathe as the soft yet unyielding object was pressed over his face. He tried to fight off his attacker but what little strength he had faded quickly as his lungs burned from lack of oxygen. White sparks flashed through his vision as consciousness departed, and he never heard the whispered voice as it spoke above him.

"I'm so sorry…"

TBC…

A/N: So, instead of NaNoWriMo, I'm working on my WIPs for the month of November, with a goal of 1000 words/day. I've already hit 3200+ :) Hopefully you'll get more updates on my other WIPs, but I have to finish two by the 25th: Ethereal and What Lies Beneath; plus one more chapter of a fic I haven't started posting yet, More Than a Heap of Stones. After those are done, well, we'll see what catches the muse's fancy. Thanks for sticking with me.