A/N: Ok, I admit it, I'm a terrible tease. So sue me. All you TIVA fans out there will now forgive me, I hope? LOL For those of you who are not familiar with the terminology used in this chapter: the narthex is the rear of a church, and the chancel is the front, just before the altar.
Warnings/Spoilers: The Usual
Disclaimer: The Usual
Sunday, June 6, 2010 2:06 a.m.
Leroy Jethro Gibbs cursed under his breath as the phone went dead in his ear. He made a mental note to stop hiring agents who were so much like himself, picked up his gear and ran to the elevator. He called Supervisory Agent Granich's team into action for backup, and then 9-1-1 for EMS support (he knew they'd need it – given the very brief sit-rep McGee had provided, he deduced they had at least two agents injured, possibly dead).
Gibbs' time to Ziva's apartment was a personal best, under 12 minutes; even so, Granich somehow managed to beat him there. Levant pulled in at the same time as Gibbs, and Mitchinson was right behind her. Granich handed out the Kevlar vests without a word, and the team quickly suited up and readied themselves. Without a key to get in the building, and with no time to lose, Granich simply shot out the door handle, and they raced up the stairs. Gibbs took point, followed by Mitchinson, then Levant. Granich brought up the rear.
They came upon much the same scene that McGee had encountered. Stewart's body lay face-down in the hallway outside the door. As they approached, they could hear McGee inside the apartment, barking orders.
"Ziva, get me a blanket. And a couple of pillows. Tony, stay with me… (muffled voices)… no, she's ok."
Gibbs breathed a sigh of relief – DiNozzo and David were still alive, and it sounded like Tim had things under control. But just in case, he swung into the room, his Sig extended out in front of him.
"Boss! All clear!"
Gibbs lowered his weapon, and knelt next to Tim, who sat on the floor just inside the doorway with Tony's head in his lap and his hand firmly pressed against his partner's right shoulder.
"He's going into shock," Tim reported, as Ziva ran back from the bedroom hallway with pillows and blankets as instructed. "He took a bullet – looks like it might've hit the clavicle. I can't see an exit wound."
Ziva elevated Tony's legs with the pillows, and gently laid the blanket over him. "He saved my life," she whispered, in awe. "Jessop's weapon jammed. If Tony had not fired when he did, her next shot would have blown my head off. I could not move – she knocked the breath right out of me."
Granich had ordered Mitchinson and Levant to check on their two teammates – both were dead. It was Levant's first exposure to such gruesomeness, and she went weak at the knees. Mitchinson tended to her as Granich got on his cell and called for Ducky and Palmer. No-one bothered about Jessop - they would look after their own first. Ziva quietly fetched two more blankets so they could cover the agents' bodies until the ME and his assistant arrived.
Tim loosened Tony's clothing and took off his shoes. The injured SFA was sweating profusely, and his breathing was shallow and rapid. He faded in and out of consciousness, picking up only snippets of the conversation going on around him.
"How the hell did he manage to fire that shot?" Gibbs wondered in amazement. "I don't see how he could've even moved his arm, in this condition."
"Boss?"
"Hang in there, Tony. EMS are on their way, I can hear the sirens now." Gibbs took Tony's hand and gave it a squeeze. He needed to keep his agent conscious until the paramedics could tend to him. "Gimme a sit-rep, DiNozzo."
"Travis... down... maybe dead. Heard a noise... thought... inside... nothing there. Stewart..." he grimaced as a wave of pain overcame him.
"Easy, Tony. Easy."
"Boss..." DiNozzo looked up earnestly at Gibbs, and grabbed at his jacket. "Lou... call Lou..."
"I got it, Tony. I'll call her. Don't worry." Satisfied, the wounded agent nodded with relief, then slumped back against Tim and passed out. Gibbs was alarmed by how pale he looked. There wasn't a lot of obvious blood loss, but that didn't mean he wasn't seriously injured. Without an exit wound, he could be bleeding internally.
The medics arrived, and quickly set to work. They commended Ziva and McGee for their quick thinking in applying pressure on the wound and correctly treating Tony's shock. Tim moved to give them room to work, and proceeded to give Gibbs and Granich a more complete sit-rep from his perspective. Ziva added her two cents as well, pointing out that she'd managed to stab Jessop in the abdomen, although it had barely even slowed her down. Gibbs snapped on a pair of gloves and bagged the knife, as well as the Beretta; it was still a crime scene, even if it did involve his own people.
Ducky and Palmer arrived at about 3:00 a.m. Jimmy looked rather the worse for wear, having been woken out of a very deep sleep and a very interesting dream involving a tall brunette, chocolate milk and a fly swatter. Ducky, on the other hand, was his usual, sartorial self, bow tie firmly in place, looking for all the world as if the only thing Granich had interrupted was dinner. Watching the two medical examiners at work, McGee couldn't help wondering if Ducky and Gibbs had been cloned from the same DNA. Neither one of them seemed to require sleep.
Gibbs stepped out into the hallway to call Vance. The Director had been fast asleep, but he was not upset to be wakened up with this kind of news. He was much relieved to hear that they'd been right about Jessop, and he was looking forward to confronting Eli in the morning with the evidence that his Mossad lackey had failed to kill her intended target.
Then Gibbs told him about the loss of Travis and Stewart, and his glee was transformed to fury. It was a senseless waste of life, one that could have so easily been prevented, if only Eli had been honest with them in the first place. Two more funerals to attend. He sighed with grim resignation, thanked Gibbs for the report, and crawled back into bed, drifting into a fitful sleep.
The EMS team by this time had Tony stabilized, with the help of a transfusion of plasma and an oxygen mask. They moved him carefully onto the stretcher. Ziva and Tim hovered nearby, making supportive noises as they wheeled him out into the hallway. Gibbs, who had just gotten off the phone, motioned to them to stop for a moment. Noting that the SFA was awake once more, he bent down towards Tony, and gave him a very light tap on the head.
"DiNozzo – I'm still waiting for that Halpern report, so don't do anything stupid, like giving up on me." He winked, and Tony closed his eyes, swallowed, and nodded. Gibbs patted his arm, and looked up at the medics. "Which hospital?"
"Bethesda, sir." Gibbs nodded, and watched as they somehow maneuvered the stretcher sideways onto the elevator.
It was another 2 ½ hours before they were able to wrap up the scene. Another ME van was sent for, since they could only accommodate two bodies in the one they had. They took Stewart and Travis in the first van; even in death, the NCIS agents commanded far more respect in Ducky's eyes than a Mossad assassin. He and Jimmy still took their time over her body though, since they wanted to ensure no piece of evidence was missed or disturbed so as to implicate their team in any wrongdoing related to her death. It was unlikely in any case – since Eli had not even acknowledged her presence in the country, they doubted anyone would claim the body. It irked Gibbs to realize that officially, she would probably end up classified as a 'Jane Doe'. How would they explain to Travis' wife and Stewart's partner that their loved ones had been killed by an (officially) unknown assailant?
Ziva finally got to bed around 6:00 a.m., after downing a cup of jasmine tea and a couple of Extra-Strength Tylenol tablets to ease her pounding head. She lay there for a long while, staring at the ceiling, pondering the fact that her father had actually sent someone half way around the world to take her life. Whatever Tony said about his father, Anthony DiNozzo Sr. would never wish his own son dead. She didn't know anyone who had such a horrible relationship with a parent, and a part of her wanted to repay the debt. She could go to Tel-Aviv on some pretext or other, stop in for a 'visit', pretending to know nothing about Jessop or her mission. It would be so easy...
But it could only happen in her dreams. She drifted off to sleep.
7:35 a.m.
Louisa Penachetti let the hot water beat against her smooth olive skin, savouring every moment of the Waterpik massage setting. Her whole body had felt tight and tense, from her neck and shoulders all the way down to her toes, but with each pulse of the shower, she felt that tension drain away. The emotional walls that she'd begun to let drop a week ago had by now been completely rebuilt, restoring the feeling of safety and security. Tony had finally stopped calling. She had peace at last. The single life was the only way to go, she decided. She could do what she wanted, when she wanted, and not worry about inconveniencing anyone else...
...Who was she kidding? She might be feeling safe once more, but she'd been thoroughly miserable for the past two days, regardless. Anger had gradually dissipated into self-pity, as she contemplated how badly she'd misread Tony's signals. Inexperience on the dating scene really had been a handicap in this situation. She just hadn't seen it coming. She'd read far too much into his attentions, and let her heart feel things it had no business feeling.
This morning, when she saw Pete at church, she really didn't know what she would say to him. She was fairly certain Tony wouldn't have admitted to his friend that he'd cheated on his sister, so Pete would be in the dark. Once she broke the news, all hell would break loose, and that would be the end of the Penachetti-DiNozzo friendship. It had better wait until after mass, she decided – it wouldn't be right to put Pete in that frame of mind before worship.
It was a rainy day, and she didn't feel like wearing a skirt and heels while trying to navigate the puddles in the cathedral parking lot. She pulled out a pair of charcoal gray slacks and a light cotton sweater combo in a pale green that brought out the little amethyst flecks in her eyes. Twenty minutes later, she had her subtle touch of makeup expertly done, and with one last check in the full-length mirror, she was out the door and on her way to St. Barnabas.
She'd turned off the ringer on her cell phone and deposited it in her purse the night before (so as not to create a disturbance during the mass). She did not notice the message from Gibbs, received at 6:24 a.m.
7:35 a.m.
The phone rang as Hank Penachetti pulled up his suspenders.
"Hello?"
"Admiral. This is Leon Vance, NCIS."
"Leon! Isn't this a bit early for you on a Sunday?"
"Yes, Sir, it is. But I have some news I thought you'd want to hear."
"I'm all ears."
"Noreen Jessop, the Mossad agent we believe was responsible for framing your daughter, has been eliminated. Unfortunately we weren't able to take her alive. Mossad is denying any knowledge of her assignment. But I believe justice has been done."
"Well...nice work, Leon! That's good to hear."
"Yes. It came at a heavy cost, though."
"Meaning...?"
"We lost two good agents, and very nearly lost a third."
Penachetti, who had been pacing the bedroom hunting for his left sock (which was firmly clenched in the mouth of his mutt Seabee), sank down onto the bed at this news. He grabbed a pen and paper from the bedside table. "Names?"
"Travis, Donald. Stewart, Devon. DiNozzo, Anthony."
The Admiral swallowed hard. "Anthony. Is he...?"
"I just got an update from Agent Gibbs an hour ago. They took him to Bethesda Naval Hospital. He's out of surgery, expected to make a full recovery. But it was touch and go for awhile there... you know Agent DiNozzo?"
Penachetti breathed a sigh of relief. "Praise God... yes, I know him. He's... a friend of the family." There was no point getting into details with Vance about Tony's relationship with Louisa, or his friendship with Pete, for that matter. "Have you notified the families of those other two agents yet?"
"Supervisory Agent Granich is doing so this morning."
"Well, be sure to let me know what arrangements are made...I'll be wanting to pay my respects, as I'm sure my daughter will, as well."
"Will do, Admiral."
8:52 a.m.
Hank and Teresa Penachetti met up with Pete, Julia and their two children, Cameron and Sarah, in the narthex, at the rear of St. Barnabas Cathedral. The younger Penachettis had not heard the news about Tony, and Pete was shocked to learn of his friend's serious injury.
The family took their seats, three rows back from the chancel. Louisa was nowhere to be seen. Everyone assumed she'd been notified about the shooting, and that she was by Tony's side at the hospital, providing him comfort. Until they saw her walk in at 8:58 a.m. and settle into a pew by herself, near the back. It was too late to speak with her before the start of the service, but they all wondered at her devotion in coming to mass when her beau had been so badly hurt just hours earlier. Perhaps she felt she could do him the most good by offering up prayers of healing?
The truth was, of course, very different. In fact, she spent most of the hour praying for the ability to forgive Tony his indiscretions, and the strength to let him go, and move on.
After the mass ended, she tried to escape without being accosted by the family, but Cameron was too quick, and ran back to greet her.
"Zia Louisa!"
"Hi, Cam!" She bent down and gave him a big hug. "Don't you look smart today, in your suit and tie? Y'know, you get bigger every time I see you!" The five-year-old kept her occupied until the rest of the Penachetti clan could make their way to the narthex, and they approached her cautiously, not wanting to upset her any further.
"Lou!" Julia threw her arms around her sister-in-law, and held her tight. "How are you holding up?"
"I'll be ok..." she responded, puzzled. Did they already know?
"I didn't think you'd be here this morning, Sis," Pete intoned. "I'm going to pay Tony a visit – wanna come with?"
She raised one eyebrow at him. "Why on earth would I want to do that? In fact, I can't believe you want to do that. Don't you care about my feelings at all?"
They all stared at her in shock. "Pete...she doesn't know!" Julia exclaimed, as the penny dropped.
"Know what?" Louisa stared at them blankly.
"Honey, you'd better sit down." Her mother took her hand gently and nudged her back down on the pew. Her eyes went wide as her father told her about Tony's gunshot wound, and Noreen Jessop's attempt on Ziva's life. The pieces fell into place, and a sick feeling overcame her as she realized how wrongly she'd interpreted Jimmy's warning to stay away from the apartment.
"Why wouldn't they have called me? Agent Gibbs knew I was going with Tony..." She suddenly remembered that she'd silenced her cell. Reaching into her purse, she pulled it out, and saw the Message Waiting icon on the screen. She grimaced, and held the phone to her ear.
"This is Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS. I need you to call me as soon as you get this message, Petty Officer. Tony's been injured, but I've been assured he's going to make it. He's at Bethesda Naval Hospital. If you call me, I can give you the details. My number is 202-737-2122."
She shut the phone off, and put her head in her hands. Teresa hugged her daughter, offering words of comfort and support. After a few moments, Louisa glanced up at her brother. To his surprise, there were no tears; instead, she bore a resolute expression on her face.
"Let's go, Pete."