-1In the Dark

Chapter Five

By Gale Force

Weatherly

"Alpha….psssst, Alpha."

"What is it, Gamma?"

"This is bad. So very bad."

"What? Why?"

"To have two subjects from the same time stream at once…"

"We've done it before…"

"But we have not transferred a subject while their alternate self was in the middle of a car chase!"

"Yes, well, the Great One knows what he's doing."

"I'm sure he does, but I do not think the Great One is as concerned with the safety of our subjects as he should be."

"Well…they are only subjects."

"Alpha!"

"Oh, don't worry, Gamma. We are the ones with our appendages on the controls, after all. Should our subjects look to be in too much danger….we transfer them back."

"Putting their alternate selves in the same danger with no chance to orientate themselves as to the situation before death strikes?"

Alpha waved an appendage. "You worry too much, Gamma."

If Gamma had had teeth, he'd have gritted them.

When the TechnoTeleinvisichronomicon transferred subjects back to their original time stream, the subjects lost all memory of their actions in the alternate reality. But when they were transferred to that alternate time stream, they remembered all that had happened up until that point.

Michael Weatherly, therefore, remembered that he had been standing in a martial arts dojo, with Cote de Pablo, who for some reason was having an identity crisis and actually thought she was the character she played on TV, Ziva David! Now, suddenly, he was sitting in a big ol SUV with a splitting headache while Cote was driving like a maniac and Sean Murray's head sticking through the opening of a glass partition crying, "Ziva, go left, go left!".

What the hell? thought Tony.

This could not be happening.

But there was no way this was a fake or a hallucination. He was in the NCIS van, for God's sake, and they were driving through the streets of some city he didn't recognize…it sure as hell wasn't anywhere in Los Angeles…

So Cote wasn't crazy….she had become Ziva David. And now he….he was Tony DiNozzo.

The tires screeched.

Michael looked over at Ziva David. Her teeth were gritted and her knuckles on the steering wheel were white. Looked like Ziva had been transported back to her old self, and was driving like a maniac.

Michael forced himself to speak in a normal voice and not in a shriek. "Ziva, do you have any idea where you're going?"

"Just buckle your seatbelt and hang on." she commanded him.

Michael shifted over a few more inches so that he was able to get the seatbelt buckled. His head was pounding, and he buried his face in his hands. Supposedly that was the only way to ride when either Ziva or Gibbs was driving, and it was turning out to be true.

And because of this, he did not see Cote de Pablo's lips constantly moving, as she said under her breath "Oh my god, oh my god" in a mantra as she drove along after their quarry.

The radio crackled. Mark Harmon…. Gibbs?….voice came over loud and clear.

"Ziva, terminate your pursuit now. Now, do you hear me?"

Without hesitation, Ziva stamped on the brakes and brought the van to a halt. Indeed, Michael was prepared to believe that she'd actually breathed a sigh of relief.

"Let the LEO's handle that chase," Gibbs barked. "We've got our own work to do. I'm going to check out the situation here at Quantico. I need you guys to head to 345 Walden Road. There's a dead lieutenant there."

"It seems too much of a coincidence that that hit-and-run driver had nothing to do with our case," said Sean Murray…no…Timothy McGee, Michael corrected himself.

"That is what I thought," said Cote, giving a quick glance at the man whom she thought was Tony DiNozzo.

"Well, apparently it didn't," Michael said shortly. "So let's get along to 345 Walden Road."

"Yes," said the woman whom he thought was Ziva David. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. "How do I get there?" she demanded.

I have no idea, Michael wanted to say, but stopped himself. Presumably as Tony DiNozzo he would know how to reach that address.

"Hey, Probie," he said in a burst of genius. "Tell Ziva how to get to that address."

"Why not just use the GPS?" said Timothy McGee in a bewildered tone.

"Ah, yes." said Cote. "You passed the test, McGee."

Now that she had calmed down from the abortive car chase, Cote de Pablo's brain was working again. Of course there was a GPS in the NCIS van….there was all sorts of electronic gear that the cameras panned through for every episode. None of which she knew how to use in real life. However, the GPS was different. It had come standard in her own car and she had used it on a few occasions.

Cote punched the address into the GPS device on the dashboard, and a computerized voice began giving her directions.

Meanwhile, Michael Weatherly reached gingerly to his belt, where there was a heavy weight. His palm closed over the butt of a gun. He pulled it out of its holster and looked at it. As he'd done many times before…in front of the camera….he ejected the magazine clip, looked at it, then replaced it in the gun.

It was true. He was Tony DiNozzo….he was armed and dangerous…and he was being driven ------ he winced as there was a screech of tires as the van took a turn on seemingly two wheels -- by the worst driver in the world, at least in the northern hemisphere.

"Everything alright, Tony?" asked Timothy McGee perfectly.

"Oh, everything's just fine, Probie," Michael commented. "Just fine. Tell me when we've arrived."

And he closed his eyes.