"I really don't know, Ziva," McGee said as he frantically typed at his computer. "He just said to talk to the barista, then hung up. Now his phone is turned off."
"He went for coffee," Ziva said.
"Of course...he wants us to talk to the barista at the coffee shop. But why?"
"And why is his phone off? It is breaking one of his own rules, yes?"
McGee's eyes focused on Tony's desk for a moment, then to Gibbs'. "I've got a really bad feeling," he told her. "You should go to Tony's and see if he's just sleeping in or something. I'll go to the coffee shop and see if anyone's seen Gibbs..."
*~.~*
After knocking on the door and getting no answer, Ziva moved to pick the lock, but realized that it was already open. Cautiously, weapon drawn, Ziva entered the apartment. "Tony?" she called as she walked in. She noticed Tony's jacket on the floor; his phone a few feet away. His gun was in its holster on the coffee table alongside his badge.
After searching the entire place, she picked up her cell and dialed McGee. "He is not here," she told him once he answered. "His bed is made, which suggests he did not sleep here last night. But his things are all here. It looks as though he may have been taken some time last night..."
"I talked to the barista," McGee told her. "Apparently someone left a note here for Gibbs. The last they saw him, he was getting into a brown van across the street. Never came out, and they drove off, heading north, about ten minutes ago..."
ooooooooooooooo000oooooooooooooooo
As soon as he'd heard Gibbs' voice, he knew that he would be okay. Up until that point, he felt he might actually die in that box. Every muscle in Tony's body was screaming at him from being in that position, but there was no room to shift. And he was becoming more and more aware of how difficult it was getting to breathe.
He knew, when he'd gotten into his apartment that morning, that something was wrong. Someone had drugged one of his drinks; of that much, he was sure. He'd barely had enough to make him feel that inhibited. What he really couldn't understand, is why they'd taken him. Why they shoved him into a box, and where they settled on leaving him. But he knew, once he heard Gibbs' voice, that this wasn't really about himself at all. They were using him as bait.
Shit, he thought. They're capturing him by forcing him to rescue me... He felt a twinge of anger and frustration, regretful that he'd basically begged Gibbs to rescue him. But that regret was overruled by the overwhelming fear of remaining in that box any longer...
So his fight to stay alive was now more for the fact that his boss was sacrificing himself to save him. If he died there, then it would be for nothing. Tony willed himself to slow his breathing; reserve any amount of oxygen that might be left in that small space. He closed his eyes and tried to pretend he was somewhere else...someplace safe. Anywhere but in that box...
ooooooooooooooo000oooooooooooooooo
The van came to a stop, and Gibbs knew they'd driven into some sort of garage since there was no sign of light coming from the windows. But despite this fact, his captors put a sack over his head before leading him out of the back of the van. He walked with their lead, until they reached a door and removed the sack from his head. It took him a moment to focus as they opened the door and shoved him inside.
The room was dark and he felt panicked, as though they'd led him there under false pretenses. But after they shut and locked the door, the lights came on, and Gibbs saw the unmistakeable box in the middle of the floor. He scrambled for it, quickly releasing the latches that held it closed before thrusting the lid open.
He froze; looking at the silent, still form of his senior agent, so sickeningly folded into the small confines of the chest. His hands hovered over him, almost too afraid to check and see if he was still alive. "Tony?" he managed, and Tony's eyes sprang open and sucked in a deep breath of air.
"Boss?" Tony breathed.
Gibbs sighed in relief and positioned himself to help the agent from the box, "Let's get you outta there," he took hold of Tony's arm. "You okay?"
"I'm sorry, Boss," he replied as he allowed Gibbs to help him. He felt extremely weak; half of his body was like pins and needles. "They used me to get you."
"Not your fault," Gibbs pulled Tony's limp form from the box and helped him to sit with his back against the cold, concrete wall of their cell. Tony painfully forced his legs straight out with a yelp. "You been in this thing the whole time?" he asked as he appraised the agent's condition.
"Yeah," he squeaked. "We gotta get outta here, Boss..."
"Workin' on it," he told him as he stood. "What the hell do you want?" he yelled to anyone who might be listening. He narrowed his eyes, waiting for a response. Just when he thought they might not get one, a voice sounded over a speaker.
"Lie down on the floor, Agent Gibbs. On your stomach; hands out to the side."
"What do you want?" he asked again.
"You to follow orders. If you want your agent to live."
Gibbs turned and met Tony's eyes for a moment, then decidedly got down onto the floor as they'd instructed. The room suddenly flooded with masked, armed men. Most aiming their weapons at Gibbs, and two of them grabbing Tony up from where he'd sat.
"Where are you takin' him?" Gibbs asked, clearly frustrated. But no one bothered to answer. They dragged Tony from the room and made sure Gibbs couldn't stop them from doing so. After they successfully removed Tony, the men began to back out of the room, then shut the door behind them. Gibbs pushed up off the floor and went for the door, unsuccessfully trying to open it. "You better be letting him go!" he shouted. "What the hell do you want with me?"
"You were never promised that your agent would be released, Agent Gibbs," the voice sounded. "You agreed to come here, to rescue him from suffocation. Soon, you will be given more chances to save his life."
"What the hell is the point of this?" he asked.
"Answers...are needed from you. And...redemption."
"Redemption? How exactly are you redeeming yourself here?"
"Not my redemption, Gibbs. This is yours... We'll continue this conversation a little later," he finished, and there was a clicking sound as the speaker shut off.
Gibbs paced in front of the door, trying to think...trying to understand what this person could possibly be referring to. But his thoughts were interrupted when he heard the distinct sound of what could possibly have been a drill. That's when the screaming started... Tony's screaming...
Gibbs blood went cold and he ran to the door, pounding against it with fury, "Hey! What are you doing to him! Stop this! Leave him alone!" he stopped pounding when he heard the sudden silence, and thought he had been successful. He put his ear against the door and strained to hear. But then he heard the drill again, and Tony began the same torturous scream...
"Sonofabitch! Let me outta here!" Gibbs yelled, kicking at the door to try and free himself from the cell. "What the hell do you want me to do? You said I could save him, so tell me what the fuck to do!"
But no reply came...just repeated stopping and starting of the sound of the drill... Eventually, Tony's screams had stopped. But the drill continued, and Gibbs could only imagine what was happening out there... Helpless and frustrated, he sank to his knees in front of that door and laid his forehead against the cold steel, waiting for the voice to return and tell him what to do...
ooooooooooooooo000oooooooooooooooo
A strange, buzzing noise began the dream... What started out grey and cloudy, cleared into a sudden image of metal, twisting...turning fast. The twisting metal soon met skin, and buried itself slowly; crimson dripping and splashing about as she heard the unmistakeable scream... a familiar voice...Tony...
"Abby!" She was pulled from her sleep at the sound of McGee's voice, and she shot up from where she'd been laying on her futon in her office. "You okay? Looked like you were having a nightmare or something."
She looked at Tim's seemingly paled demeanor as she pulled herself back from her dream. "I was," she told him. "It was really creepy." She stood from the futon as he did, and made her way out into the lab.
"Have you been here all night?" he asked as he followed her.
"Yeah. I was working on something pretty late, and I didn't feel like driving home." She shuddered as she recalled the dream again.
"Well, I came down here because I need your help," McGee told her. "Something really hinky is going on. Tony's missing..."
"What?" she turned to face him; her eyes widened with terror. "Timmy...my dream! Tony was screaming! They were...doing something really really bad to him!"
"Abby, calm down!" he put his hands on his arms. "It was just a dream. We're not sure what's happened..."
"You don't understand," she pulled away. "Right before Kate died, I had a dream that there was blood all over Tony's face." Tim furrowed his brow as the recollection hit him. "Timmy, where's Gibbs?"
His focus came back to her. "He's gone, too." Abby stiffened. "Ziva's bringing back everything from Tony's apartment, where it seems he might've been taken from last night. Gibbs went for coffee, and I talked to the people who work there. They said he got into a brown van parked across the street. Abby, he called me and told me to talk to the barista. He knew we'd be investigating this. Wherever he is, I think he's with Tony now."
"We have to find them," her eyes darted around as she thought.
"The first thing we need to do is look at the footage from the security cam on that corner. If we can pick up a plate number from that van, we might be able to track where they went..."
ooooooooooooooo000oooooooooooooooo
Tony wasn't sure when he'd passed out, but he was grateful he had. The pain had been unbearable. But now he felt a cool, damp cloth wiping at his torso, and he opened his eyes to see what was going on. Green latex gloves covered the hand that was wiping the blood from his chest and stomach. He swallowed, noticing that the small holes had been filled with little metal posts that protruded a few centimeters from his skin... There were five of them; two in his chest on either side of his ribcage, and three in his abdomen; one above his bellybutton and two evenly place a few inches on either side of it.
They stung, but it was bearable; unlike the process of planting them. But he looked up, away from them, because for some reason, it hurt more to see them.
Once the masked man was finished cleaning him, the room was flooded with darkness. He felt the cold, metal table that he was retrained to, begin to elevate from where it once sat flat. It was standing him upright, and the straps that were holding him down, suddenly got a whole lot more uncomfortable.
He panicked in the darkness...unsure of what was to come. But he tried to force the thought away as he took mental note of his position. There was a strap, high across his chest, running across and down to the table just under his armpits. His hands were held down, but out to each side, reminding him somewhat of an execution table. His feet were against some kind of surface, allowing him to stand, but his ankles were restrained around his jeans, to the table.
At least they left my pants on, he thought. He recalled them cutting away his shirt from his body earlier... right before the drill... And he remembered the sound of his boss pounding against the door as he yelled for them to stop. His eyes drifted closed, afraid of what might happen next. Whoever Gibbs and he had pissed off this time, really meant business.
His eyes shot open when he heard movement. And the lights came on to reveal Gibbs being placed and restrained in a chair, not ten feet in front of Tony. Their eyes met, and Tony watched his boss as he discovered the mutilation they'd administered.
Gibbs stomach twisted in knots before meeting the apologetic eyes of his senior agent once more. "What the hell did you do to him?" his voice was rough with anger.
"Surely, this must seem somewhat familiar to you, Agent Gibbs," the voice that had once sounded over the speaker, now came from somewhere in the shadows beside him. "Think about it... that's the point of this, you know. This part, anyway."
Gibbs had a memory flash before his eyes; a case he'd worked on a few years back. They'd found a body; holes burned into his flesh, in the same positioning as they were on Tony right now. Ducky had ruled it as death by electrocution...
"This is how it works, Gibbs," the voice continued. "I'll ask you a question. My employee will flip a switch, causing electricity to run into your agent's body, until you answer." His explanation was given as the masked, gloved man began to hook wires with small clamps to the posts on Tony's body. "If you take too long to answer, he could very well die."
"I'll answer your damned questions," Gibbs told him. "You don't have to torture him to get them from me."
"That's not how it works. I make the rules, not you."
"If you wanna torture someone so bad, then do it to me! Leave him outta this!" he pulled at his restraints.
"I am torturing you, Gibbs. Both of you." Gibbs swallowed at the truth in his words, and he met Tony's eyes again. He could tell his agent was clenching his teeth by the way his jaw muscles twitched. He was just as pissed and afraid as Gibbs was. "Let's begin," the man's words caused a numbing feeling to rise in Gibbs' chest. "Question number one; as I assume you remember the case, what is the name of the man you incarcerated for these crimes?" When his question was complete, the masked man flipped a switch, and Gibbs watched in horror as Tony's body jumped against the restraints; his face tightening against the flow...
"Griswald," Gibbs answered quickly. "Alex Griswald!" he elaborated before the man flipped the switch off. Tony's body settled back as his breath returned to him.
"Question two; how many years was he to serve for those crimes?" The switch flipped.
"Life!" he replied, then recalled the actual sentence, "Sixty-eight years!" The torture ceased for the moment.
"Final question... Who is responsible for his early demise?" the switch was flipped again, and Gibbs panicked.
"His demise?"
"Who killed him in prison?" the man asked more urgently.
"I- I didn't know he was dead..."
"Answer the question, Agent Gibbs!"
"I don't know the god-damned answer!" he yelled. "I wasn't told he was dead!" he watched, helplessly, as Tony writhed against the restraints. "This isn't fair! I can't answer the damned question, because I don't know!" his ears began to ring with fury. "Stop this, and I'll find the answer you're lookin' for!"
After a moment, the switch was turned off, and Tony's body fell completely limp against the restraints; his head hanging over, defeated. "Tony?" Gibbs called. With no reply, the masked man felt for a pulse and he looked over in the direction of the shadows and shook his head. "Godamnit!" Gibbs shouted. "You sonofabitch!"
"Get the paddles, and bring him back," the voice instructed the masked man. "We're not finished with him." Gibbs watched as the table was quickly lowered, and others came to assist. They pulled out the posts, then shocked him with defibrillator paddles.
Gibbs breathed a sigh of relief once Tony's chest rose and fell. The masked man turned and nodded to the shadows before cleaning up the mess they'd created on Tony's body.
"When you're finished cleaning him up, take him back to the box," the voice said.
Gibbs flashed with anger at the words, "What the hell is the point to this?" he asked through gritted teeth.
"The point," the voice said as he moved from the shadows so that Gibbs could see him, "Is to avenge my brother's unjustified death." As Gibbs took in the man's face, he narrowed his eyes, realizing that he was, in fact, the exact image of the man he'd put away...
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tbc...