They were a riveted to the glass. Even the video tech seemed to be mesmerized by the story.
Gibbs shook his head slightly to himself. He knew how isolated Tony must have felt…but with the torture and the drugs…God. O'Shea's appearance must have been like a revelation.
Tony shifted a little in his chair now. He was starting to look a little flushed. He reached for the water bottle again.
As he took a swallow, he looked around the room, and then down again. His expression was unreadable. He closed up the bottle, and put it back on the table. He tiredly looked back to Jarvis, who had seemed to be growing more patience as the interview went on.
Tony sighed again, and spoke.
"It was several days later, or…nights later, when he came for me. It was after the "nice" cycle. Which had not gone well …again"
(Flashback)
Tony was huddled in the corner again. He could smell the fresh wash of bleach they'd given the room before they brought him back.
Latham's dinner had gone very awry – he'd even called Stratton in, after Tony fell out of the chair, nearly passing out on the floor.
"I told you not to screw this up. " Latham's tone was filled with rage. "We have the last sale in three weeks. I need this prick to off Jarvis for us. It solves most of our problems if Jarvis is dead and this one rots in prison."
Stratton was silent for a moment. "The doc patched him up after today's session, and gave him a shot of morphine so he could sit up in the chair. It must be knocking him out." Stratton didn't sound worried, just perhaps slightly perplexed.
"I told you to stay in certain parameters…we are close to being done with this operation. No more mistakes. If we can't get this done soon, we'll have to dump him and figure out another way to get rid of Jarvis with no trail."
"Yes sir."
"Get him out of here'" Latham growled, disgustedly.
Tony was still feeling the throbbing pain of Stratton's knife work on his body. He was hopeful after seeing O'Shea, and somehow Stratton had smelled resolve on the tormented Agent. And decided to push things. The doctor had spent a lot of time on the stitches.
Tony didn't even hear the hatch this time. He'd fallen into an exhausted sleep.
Someone was shaking him.
"Wha-" he jumped, raising his arms up in defense, adrenaline immediately triggered in his body.
"Shhhh. Easy, DiNozzo." It was O'Shea. Do you think you're able to walk?"
"Uh…yeah. What…what exactly is the plan, Bri ?"
"I'm breakin' you out, buddy." He helped Tony up on his shaky legs. "I made a few levels in my flight training, and the job opened up with O.N.I. for Maintenance Division Officer for the flight deck on The Phantom. They have two MH-60 Multi-missions that're gassed and ready to go. I can fly those. We're takin' one and gettin' the Hell outta' here. Now put these on." He handed Tony some clothing, a uniform for a PO 2nd class.
Tony hesitated. "Bri…they might kill us…" Tony wanted to escape so badly, he was desperate. But they could both easily end up dead.
"Tony," he said slowly, "I'm not leaving you here to Stratton one more day. No one on this ship really knows who you are…much less even knows you're here. That alone is pretty suspicious. And once I gave another five hundred dollars – by the way, I'm out of money and it's on your tab too - to one of Stratton's mongrels…to find out what they knew. They told me…they told me what he's been doing to you…" He heard O'Shea's voice crack a little, and he swallowed harshly. "And the bottom line is that Latham can't come after us unless he makes this more…public. Well, he could, but he'd have to kill us… But at least among the Watcher Fleet, any video or call to assist is gonna' bust him having you here, without anyone else's knowledge or consent. He won't have anyone to come after us from this ship…the pilots are decorated officers...it would buy time. As long as you've got my six on this I shouldn't end up in the brig for theft of an aircraft…" he chuckled softly. "Hurry up, DiNozzo!"
"But…" Tony breathed out the words, "I dunno even know where we are…." Tony began to remove the scrubs, and was incredibly relieved they were still in the dark, where the damage to his body wouldn't be visible to his friend.
"We're in the Tyrrhenian Sea, off Sardegna. And…Tony, I've been checking out the surveillance suite. Those guys are locked up like Knox. Only six men have clearance, working in shifts of four with Stratton and Latham. And they aren't permitted out of quarters unless going to and from the suite. It's ridiculous, and the other ships don't run that way. We've all had to have thorough and high end clearance to even be on these ships." O'Shea seemed to be thinking to himself, but suddenly said, "Let's go. I'm taking us right into the Cagliari base once we get to Sardegna."
He gently pulled Tony along towards the hatch. Tony tripped over the form of man on the floor…"I thought you said you bribed them, O'Shea."
He could see O'Shea's smile, now fully visible in the ambient light of the ship as he carefully opened the hatch.. "I used up the rest of my cash, DiNozzo, so I just cold cocked that one. He never saw it comin'. Besides, we needed his clothes."
Tony tried to walk naturally, next to O'Shea, but it was difficult because he was weak and the morphine had worn off, sending flashes of hot pain up and down his body.
They made it, all the way to the flight deck. The MH-60's were just about 60 feet away. Tony looked dazedly out onto the sea from the rails. The water was only several shades lighter than the inky sky. The wind was tolerable, though now they were out in the open. They were about to make for the chopper, when a voice called angrily from behind them.
"Stop ! Right there !" It was Stratton, with his gun raised.
No ! Shit ! Tony's blood froze. He and O'Shea both turned around.
Stratton was breathing a bit heavily, having run to the only way of escape off the ship. Next to him was one of the men O'Shea had bribed.
"You are so much more trouble than you're worth," he said it in a low growl towards Tony. "And you…" Stratton looked at O'Shea, "I don't know what you think you're doing, but you're in a lot of trouble."
The other man came to stand closer to O'Shea, awaiting Stratton's orders. At least he was not armed, since he was regular crew and Stratton hadn't expected Tony to have an accomplis.
Stratton was furious. Tony could see the glittering madness overcoming the man's dark eyes. He'd looked like that sometimes while torturing Tony.
Tony knew they had to get away now, or they were both going to be food for the sharks in the Tyrrhenian Sea. Come closer you bastard, he thought, gathering whatever strength he had.
"Don't wanna let me go huh?" Tony asked snarkily. "I think you really have a thing for me Stratton. It's okay. Not the first time a guy's had a little crush on me…"
Stratton's face went stonier, but he came closer to Tony, not noticing he'd dropped one of his hands down from the gun. He was staring at him…it was murder, in his eyes this time. He was about to say something to Tony when it all went crazy.
Tony slapped the wrist holding the gun, and because Stratton was so caught up in the moment he hadn't expected it. It went flying out of his hand as Tony punched him with the other hand.
In his periphery, O'Shea had knocked the other man down, and they were brawling on the ground.
Stratton had kicked at Tony, catching him in the thigh, where he knew Tony had suffered some of his knife work earlier that day. Tony fell back for a moment, crying out in pain. As Stratton went for the gun, Tony got him from behind, one arm around his neck. Stratton choked, but Tony pulled back, and all the weeks of torture and humiliation flitted through his mind. He vaguely remembered, Rivkin had almost killed him this way…
Stratton kicked, but Tony felt the pain and anger consume him. He saw the man's face in his mind, smiling as Tony had cried and begged for him to stop dragging his dulled knife blade down his back. Tears flowed from him now quietly, as he used up the last of his strength, squeezing until the man went limp.
Without hesitation, Tony picked him up, and threw him over the rail.
He collapsed onto his knees, and almost passed out, but someone was shaking him again. He couldn't understand why.
He looked up at the blue eyes staring at him, the words were imploring him to do something…
"Come on ! Tony, snap out of it man !" O'Shea was begging. Tony seemed dazed, and almost limp with exhaustion.
He dragged Tony up with him, practically lifting him off his feet and went for the chopper.
As Tony looked back, he saw the other man, Stratton's henchman, on the deck floor, unmoving.
(End Flashback)
Tony took a break. He knew that what he'd done to Stratton was justifiable, that he'd snapped from the weeks of torture. But he didn't think they would understand it. So he'd left out the part where he'd paid the bastard back, paid him back the same way he'd killed E.J. He told them that he'd left Stratton on the deck, unconscious.
Jarvis smiled. "You're telling me, that you and O'Shea, stole an MH-60 off an O.N.I cruiser?"
Tony raised his eyebrows, "Oh, well, technically, , it was Brian. I dunno squat about helicopters."
In observation, they were stunned. But Gibbs was smiling. "No man gets left behind," he said softly.
"It's really…hot in here." Tony said softly. Since the water appeared not to be drugged, he asked for more.
Jarvis turned toward the mirror and nodded at them.
A moment later, one of the agents from the hallway came in, putting two bottles on the table.
Tony was grateful it wasn't one of his team. He wasn't sure he could bear it, the way they were probably looking at him now from behind the glass.
"So," Jarvis urged, "you were on the chopper. Then what?"
"First control radio'd us, because we had no clearance to lift. Then, Latham radio'd us. Threatening us to come back. - actually, he just threatened me. He still didn't know it was Brian flying. Thing is…Latham didn't know what to do, I think. If he deployed the other chopper to come after me, and try to shoot me down, he'd have to explain that to the President. Explain who was flying and why he used extreme force to shoot down an MH-60. They cost a pretty penny, right?"
"He never thought you'd escape." Jarvis said it softly.
"No. And he painted himself into a box with that one. But…I'm sure he was happy later, when the chopper crashed."
"What?"
"The chopper…we crashed it."
(Flasback)
Tony wasn't sure how, but he'd gotten off the ship. He was finally coming back to his senses when he realized he was strapped into the cockpit of the MH-60, and they were in the sky. It was just dawn, the sky behind them starting to glow peach.
"Bri?" he looked over at O'Shea, who smiled at him wanly.
"Hey, DiNozzo, you scared the Hell outta' me back there. You had some kinda' fit…or something. You feel okay?"
Tony looked at his friend, and noticed the blood. It was soaked into O'Shea's right sleeve.
"You're bleeding."
"Yeah…turned out, that jackass had a knife. Got me in the scuffle…before I could take him down."
He looked at Tony, his eyes unwavering. "I may not be able to fly this thing much longer. I don't suppose…you had any flight training?"
Tony stared at him, mouth agape. He was horrified. And he knew, they were still going to be food for the sharks in spite of all the effort taken to escape.
Then he smiled, a sad smile. His voice was thick with emotion, "Lotta' good you got for rescuing me, O'Shea…I'm…"
"DiNozzo, I'm gonna' get that money back…" he was cutting off Tony's apology. "You're…not getting out of it." He was slurring slightly. "I can take us down…we just have to swim west. We'll only be a few hundred miles out."
Tony swallowed, his eyes glistening. He shook his head at the irony of it all.
"Oh. Is that all."
O'Shea sighed. "Don't you wanna' use your suave Eye-talian on the ladies of Sardegna?""
Tony snorted. "I don't speak Italian. Just because I am Italian. Though… I did have some Italian girlfriends who taught me a little…"
O'Shea was hitting buttons, watching the horizon mark on the cockpit track screen.
"Well, in that case…you're just gonna' get slapped a lot."
Tony smiled, but he could tell they were on a slow descent, and fear was gripping his insides.
"We've got some…floaty, inflato-type things in here, right?"
O'Shea looked at him, pale and smiling again, with humor in his eyes.
He asked gently, "Aside from your big head, DiNozzo?"