Hey, so apparently I forgot my disclaimer for six chapters! Anyway, here it is…
I do not own NCIS, I believe Jeff Eastin does.
Gibbs POV- "McGee, any traces on the phones yet?"
It had been forty minutes since Ziva had hung up, and they still had no leads. Guilt was biting away my conscious, I had forgotten to ask Ziva the address of the building she and Tony were going to. Obviously there had been reports of a building collapsing, which we assumed to be the place Ziva was talking about, but I couldn't go myself because Vance refused to tell me the address. Even all the local LEOs and firefighters on the scene had their mouths shut, per Vance's instructions. I was furious at the man for preventing me from helping my team, but part of me knew that some of my anger was unreasonable. We were definitely emotionally involved, and McGee was probably more help here than anywhere else, tracing Ziva's and Tony's phones. But I, on the other hand was absolutely of no help here, and I hated sitting here useless.
"Not yet, boss. Our wifi is down." He said this slowly and carefully, probably scared of angering me further. I didn't respond, but I sighed and got up impatiently for another cup of coffee. Great now another thing my fault; I had forgotten to call someone in to fix our wifi problems.
I was already in the elevator with the doors closing when my cell phone shrill ring startled me. "Gibbs," I answered.
"Ok, we thought we should give you an update. We found Ziva but not Tony, and she says she needs to talk to you immediately. She is refusing medical attention, and it exactly cooperating when we ask her for information," informed a voice I recognized as one of the police officers I had talked to earlier. I admired how he got to the point, maybe later I'll recommend him to the director. He didn't bother trying to convince me stuff that wasn't a fact, like my agents were going to be okay.
"Can you give her the phone?"
Yeah sure, one sec." There was rustling as the phone passed hands, then Ziva's voice.
"Hello?" Ziva asked, almost sounding skeptical.
"What happened?"
I could almost visualize Ziva's tension relieving at my voice. She sighed in relief then said,"I went in after Tony. I found a survivor and brought him with me, thought that was the safest thing to do. I'm sorry boss, I know I broke protocol." she spoke hurriedly and I got the feeling there was something she wasn't telling me.
"Ziva, it's fine. What are you not saying?" I asked her impatiently.
"After we found Tony he…" she faltered, probably to collect herself before continuing. This made me nervous; Ziva wasn't scared to say anything. "The man must of been the terrorist, and he must of made me. He kidnapped Tony, boss."
The air seemed to catch in my lungs, and I had to force myself to exhale. Worry started to build in my stomach, all directed at Tony. I had no idea why Tony always got into these situations, Abby's horrible luck theory was starting to make more and more sense. I forced my emotions out of my voice before I spoke again.
"How long ago was this?"
"Twenty minutes about."
"How was Tony's condition?"
"Bad." I didn't press her, knowing I didn't want to know all the details.
"Where are you?"
"Uh, I'm on the corner of St James. Its five blocks over from McGalin park.
"Can you describe the kidnapper?"
"Yeah. He had short blonde hair, and he was probably 6'1. He was wearing a really expensive suit, and he was muscular but thin. Oh, and he had the edge of a tattoo sticking out beneath the cuff of his shirt." she described quickly. I nodded even though she couldn't see me, pondering what she had said.
"There is a sketch artist here. Want me to talk to them?" she asked.
"Yeah." Our conversation was interrupted when McGee shouted, "I've got it!"
"Bye Ziva," I said before hanging up; not waiting for a reply.
"Where is Tony?" I demanded him.
"He is in a warehouse district…" he paused as he studied his screen. "I can't find an address, but I can take you there." A small part of me wondered if he was lying so he could help Tony. He probably did know I was planning on not allowing him to come, Tony would never be able to forgive himself if McGee got hurt. Though I doubt McGee would be able to lie to me very well if he tried. I decided whether or not he was lying he could come, he would probably be a valuable asset anyway- though I would never tell him that.
"Okay," I told him, tossing him the keys. McGee fumbled with them for a moment, and he almost dropped them. Under different circumstances I would have smirked, but I knew it was his concern for him partner that caused him to be antsy. DiNozzo would have made fun of him. For some reason my throat seemed to clog up, and I suddenly didn't trust my voice. I could almost hear DiNozzo say 'I knew you cared.'
"Coming, boss?" I looked up and realized McGee was already in the elevator, holding the door open with his forearm. I nodded briskly still unsure of how my voice would function. I took quick strides to make up the time lost in thought, and once inside McGee gave me a funny look. I glared at him, my gaze daring him to say something. He appeared to find the floor very interesting all of a sudden, and red creeped onto his pale face. I knew I was being hard on him, but he was a very easy target for my anger. I was pondering of giving him a head slap so he would understand I wasn't serious, but the shrill noise of my cell phone's ring tone interrupted me before I could do anything. I checked to see who it was, but the number was unknown. I dubiously accepted it without introducing myself.
"If you want your agent back then leave four million under the first bench of McGalin Park." A gruff voice pronounced.
I motioned for McGee to trace the call before answering. "No."
"No?" He repeated my answer and I could almost see the smirk on his face. "Well, I would check your computer before you make that decision. Especially since your agents life depends on it." After I had told McGee to find where the call was coming from he must have pressed the button to take us back to our floor, because the doors dinged open, revealing the bullpen. McGee ran to his computer and he started typing furiously, and I could barely see his fingers fly across the keyboard. I jogged over to my own computer, unsure of what to expect to be on my computer. What I surprised me enough that my wall that blocked out my emotion broke down. My eyebrows furrowed as I watched Tony sitting in a chair. There was a cut on the side of his forehead that was bleeding profusely, and it had no doubt caused a concussion. This was proved by the dazed and confused look he was giving the camera. He was bound tightly and probably uncomfortably, with tight ropes around his stomach, wrists and ankles. He was covered in cuts and bruises in a colorful assortment of blue, black, and green. What was probably the most concerning was the wound that looked to be a stab on his upper left thigh. Dried blood covered the area around it, and fresh blood still leaked from it. And if I squinted it looked like Tony was struggling to breath, but I would have to ask Ducky to examine the video.
The room DiNozzo was in was lighted brilliantly and the floor and ceiling was a dazzling white, except the streaks of blood that must have come from dragging him in there.
"Leave him alone!" I half growled and half shouted.
"Looks like someone has a weak spot." He appeared on the screen before he spoke, but his face was covered and the only thing I could see was his back. He neared my senior agent and my stomach turned.
"Stay away from him."
"Or what?" he taunted. He took that moment to punch DiNozzo in the stomach, near the already broken ribs, and he doubled over as far as his restraints would let him. The only other indication that Tony gave to show he registered the pain was a low grunt.
"Like I said. Four million." He pressed something concealed inside of his pocket, and the screen turned black- much like how my heart was now feeling.