A/N: As per usual, not an expert on anything, don't own NCIS or its characters, yadda yadda yadda. Take everything I write with a grain of salt, but please read and review it anyway! I hope you enjoy! -abby
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Inside the bank, time seemed to be creeping along at a snail's pace. DiNozzo and McGee waited tensely for something - anything - to happen. They had expected that either Bossman would snap and kill another of his people or a SWAT team would storm the bank and put an end to the entire affair, but another hour passed in relative silence.
Tim was keeping a close watch on his partner. At first Tony had been trying to stay awake, but his previous burst of energy and clarity seemed to have depleted. The senior agent's eyes kept slipping closed and he had been leaning his head against the wall for the last half-hour. Now he seemed to have finally given in and was sound asleep.
McGee didn't blame him. In addition to being exhausted from stress, Tim's ribs were aching with each breath and he was stiff and sore from sitting in the same position for hours. His wrists were miserably raw from the plastic zip-tie binding them together, and his hands were going numb from loss of circulation. A glance at Tony's hands revealed the same situation - although the senior agent's left wrist was actively bleeding, Tim noted with concern.
The junior agent was about to try and rouse his partner when his attention was suddenly drawn to the other side of the lobby. Some commotion had started between Bossman and his three remaining cohorts. McGee couldn't tell what they were arguing about, but the raised voices were loud enough to wake DiNozzo.
"What's going on?" Tony was back to sounding groggy and confused. He lifted his head away from the wall and blearily looked around to find the source of the noise. "Probie? Where are we?"
Oh crap, thought Tim. This is not good. I shouldn't have let him go to sleep.
"We're at the bank, Tony. Remember? The hold-up? You got hit in the head." Tim spoke quietly and carefully, trying to jog the other man's memory.
"No…? Where's Gibbs? What happened?" Tony was getting agitated, a condition that only worsened when he discovered that his wrists were painfully bound and bleeding. "Probie? Why are we tied up?" Every slurred phrase out of his mouth was a question, and the inquiries were escalating in volume.
"Tony! Shhh!" McGee kept watching the gunmen out of the corner of his eye as he frantically hissed at his partner. For the moment the masked men were paying more attention to each other than to their captives. "We're being held hostage! It's going to be okay but we've got to be quiet, all right?!"
At the urgency in Tim's voice the injured man settled almost immediately. Even in Tony's confused state, his trust in his partner was obvious as he whispered, "Okay, Probie. Whatever you say," before leaning his head back against the wall and closing his green eyes once more.
The masked gunmen had stopped shouting at each other and Bossman resumed stalking back and forth across the room.
Tim released a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. This is very, very bad. Tony needs a doctor now, the junior agent thought worriedly. What the hell are the police waiting on?
Outside in the parking lot, Gibbs was getting incredibly impatient. He was pacing so furiously that Ziva would not have been surprised to see a rut forming in the concrete.
Finally Gibbs approached Lieutenant Keller and demanded answers. "What are you people waiting on?! It has been over an hour since that shot was fired, if it was one of my men he could have bled out by now!" The fury in Gibbs' eyes was unmistakable and it had caused many lesser men to falter. Keller was not one of them.
"Special Agent Gibbs." The lieutenant's voice was firm. "If you have suggestions I am open to them. However, I am very busy at the moment. The reason we haven't stormed the building yet is that we're trying to gauge how far your men are from the doors. We'll have to use gas grenades before we enter, and if your men are closer than the suspects to the grenades it could be useless." Keller gestured toward the front of the bank, where a SWAT team was gearing up in preparation. "Not to mention the effects the gas may have on your men if they are already injured."
Gibbs' stance immediately became far less hostile once he realized that Keller had a plan. But once he thought about DiNozzo and his history of respiratory problems Gibbs was troubled all over again. The lead agent nodded his thanks at the lieutenant and stepped away to call Ducky. A brief conversation assured him that while it wasn't ideal, even someone with plague-scarred lungs should not suffer long-term effects from tear gas. Gibbs snapped his phone shut and turned back to Lieutenant Keller.
"Let's do it," the lead NCIS agent said with authority. His gut told him that time was running out, and he had learned not to ignore it where his team - especially Tony - was involved.
Keller seemed to agree. "Five more minutes and my team will be ready to move. However, they're still not sure of your agents' proximity to the doors. We've been unable to access the bank security cameras and trying a camera snaked under the door didn't tell us much. The lobby is too large and the occupants too far away." The lieutenant was clearly concerned. "I don't know if this is a good idea, Agent Gibbs, but we're running out of options. It's pretty clear at this point that the suspects don't plan on making things easy."
Gibbs looked at Ziva, who had remained uncharacteristically silent throughout the entire exchange. She quietly concurred, giving Gibbs the extra assurance that he always seemed to need whenever Tony's welfare was involved.
When he spoke again, Gibbs' voice was quiet and even. "I'm sure that DiNozzo and McGee are ready to end this, one way or another. If they're in bad shape, we'll just have to deal with it afterward. Let's do it," he said for the second time, but with more confidence.
Keller nodded and prepared to give his men the word. "Two minutes!" he called over his headset. The fifteen-man SWAT team nodded and stood at the ready.
Tim's worry was growing exponentially with each passing second. Tony's head had lolled forward and he was clearly unconscious, not just asleep. Blood continued to run down the left side of the senior agent's face and neck, soaking his collar, and the blood seeping from his wrist had already saturated the cuff of his long-sleeved shirt.
McGee's own head was beginning to pound, no doubt due to a tension headache of extreme proportions. The junior agent had no clue how he should possibly proceed at this point, not that he had the energy to actually act if he had wanted to. Maybe I'll just lay my head back for a few minutes, he thought miserably.
Just as Tim decided to finally give into his fatigue, all hell broke loose. One of the lobby windows shattered and McGee saw three gas grenades land on the tile floor nearby. He began to cough - along with Tony and their four captors - as smoke billowed to fill the huge room.
The last thing McGee heard were the shouted commands of the SWAT team as everything slowly faded into darkness.