[Phoomph-Three]
Throughout the night Gibbs would stop working on his boat, look at his sawdust covered clock then to the equally dusty TV, before finally his eyes would land on his cell phone. He had called Abby right after he saw her on the television, but that was two hours ago. Now he stared at it debating if he should call her again and maybe call Tony, hell the rest of his team for that matter, just to see if that would calm his nerves. But they were trained federal agents and one forensic scientist that could kick ass. So then his blue eyes would move over to the bottle of bourbon hidden among the jars of nails and other tools on his shelf, think about taking a couple of drinks from it. Though each time he would shake his head to get rid of the desire for alcohol; he needed to stay alert for whatever might happen. That's when he would go back to building his boat. Gibbs went over to one corner of the wooden frame where it was a few feet of solid wood. He picked up a sanding block and started to slowly file away the small bumps. He knew that he sanded the boat way to much, but he didn't mind. He loved the sound of quiet scrapping, to him it was more soothing and realizing then waves rolling in and the fine sawdust that coated the air was better than any aroma therapy in the world.
It was around one thirty when Gibbs finally went up for fresh air, but more so for his fifth cup of fresh hot coffee. He was in the kitchen picking at some grapes in his fridge, when he heard his front door open. His agent and marine training side kicked in preparing to attack any potential threat. But as soon as he heard chains clanking together and platform boots clonking and shuffling about the polished wooden floor, he relaxed for the first time that night. Gibbs grabbed his cup of coffee from the counter and walked into the living room; he saw Abby trying to move across the semi dark room in a quite matter but failed to do so.
"Abby." At the sound of his soft voice the guest jumped back a step or two, her head spinning trying to locate the source of the voice as her black pig tales flopped in her face.
She let out a deep sigh when she finally spotted Gibbs standing in the kitchen door way. "Gibbs don't do that to a girl whose been partying all night."
The former marine just grinned as he walked over to Abby near the staircase. "I saw you and your friend's band on TV." He casually stated.
"You did! That is awesome!" She exclaimed a little too loudly and quickly noticed it when her boss gave a questioning look. "Sorry Gibbs, I had one to many Red Bulls." His smile came back as that answered his question. "And thanks for letting me use your guest room. If I drove anymore further I know I would have crashed. No, what I mean is crash as in sleep not crash-crash. But of course if I, you know, sleep-crash, I would most likely crash-crash. Then you'll get mad and be all 'Why did you drive home?'" Her face wrinkled trying to match one of Gibbs' glares as her voice lowered to sound like him. "'I offered my guest room to you so this wouldn't have happen.' And I thank you Gibbs for that because I wouldn't want that to happen--"
"Abby." Gibbs said finally stopping her rambling as he placed a hand on her shoulder.
"What?"
"You're welcome; now go to bed before you fall over."
"Yes sir." Abby gave a half salute as she started up the stairs, holding tightly on the rail for support. Half way up she carefully turned around. "Oh Tony might take up that offer of crashing on your couch. But he had a new hot date with him, so I doubt it really because we all know how he is and she was really pretty and into him. So he mostly likely is using her couch if you know what I mean. I mean Tony isn't really that kind of guy as he is made out to be, but I'm sure you know what I'm--"
"Good-night Abby."
"Right, night Gibbs." Gibbs watched Abby as she finished walking up the stairs and disappeared down the hallway. He felt better now she was safe and sound, but there was four more hours left till the sun would start to rise and his boat was calling his name.
[Phoomph]
Officer Brad had never been so happy when one o'clock came, letting him go home. The festival went smooth compared to last year, but slow nights, no matter now boring they were, it was a cop's delight. After a quick stop at the station to drop off his one time partner and to get his car, he drove home which was a mile and a half away from Stanton Square. By the time he got home and changed into his running clothes it was close to two in the morning. But as late as it was, he needed the empty openness of a run after being stuck in a crowd of partying people and it was almost a routine after his night shifts. So checking that his house key and ID was in his pocket Brad set off down the empty streets of D.C. The darken night from the thick fog caused the street lamps to have a hard time shining down on the street and the only sound that was heard was his deep breathing and feet pounding on the hard sidewalk.
Brad was half way near Stanton Square when he suddenly heard what sounded like keys hitting each other with each stride. He looked down expecting to see his keys on his belt loop, but sweat pants did not have belts and his single house key was in his pocket. He turned his head to glance behind him and saw some keys dangling from a belt of another runner. He thought it was very strange that someone else would be running at this time of night. Brad listened closely to the sound of the other pair of shoes as they hit the pavement, the other runner slowly but at the same time at an alarming rate, closed in the distance between them until they were practically side by side. Brad kept glancing at the other man taking a good look in his appearance. The man had wild red coarse hair that was a little to long for most normal men, and the clothes he had on were something for a hot summer day not a cold foggy night. He wore dark Bermuda shorts and an even darker short sleeve shirt. Brad never slowed or sped up his pace; neither did the man but what really set off the alarms in his head was how the man did not even cast a glance in his direction.
Just when Brad thought this man might try something, the silence was cut though by loud roar of a Harley Davidson. In a few short seconds two motorcycles blasted their way out of the dark fog and headed to his direction. Strange as it was to him, Brad was happy to see more people. As the bickers came closer, the man sped up his jog passing Brad and turned down the next street, disappearing into the night. But as the blaring sounds of the Harleys faded away, leaving the officer alone again, something in his gut turned and Brad turned around as he sped his jog into a run. Eager to get home and out of the fog filled streets.
[Phoomph]
One o'clock came quickly than anyone would have liked. So when the band played their last song everyone headed home. Tony helped walk Danica to her car that was four blocks away from the square. She protested and didn't want him to walk in the opposite direction of his own car, but he was a gentleman and there was no way that he would let her walk even one block by herself, day or night. As they reached her car they pulled each other close and shared a good bye kiss.
"You sure you don't want to come over?" Danica asked Tony who just shook his head. "Are you even able to drive home?"
Tony had two more beers during the rest of the night while Danica stopped after four. "I'll be fine; I'll crash at my boss' house, it's just a few minutes from here."
"My place isn't far either and I have a nice big warm bed." Danica said with a seductive smile.
"As tempting as that sounds, I'll have to do a rain check. I have to be at work tomorrow and if I am a minute late or not on my game my boss will kill me."
"Well you have my number. So give me a call tomorrow and maybe we can do something this weekend."
"That sounds really good." He said with a smile as he lend in for another kiss. "And technically it is tomorrow."
"You know what I mean silly." She returned the kiss as she got into her car. "Well good-night."
"Good-night." Tony shut the car door when she was safely inside. He stood on the sidewalk and watched her drive away until she disappeared down the street.
Tony took a deep breath of the cold night air, as if it was waking up his senses; he had four blocks to walk back to the square and another two after that to his car. He started his walk thanking God that Gibbs opened his house for him because his energy level was fading quickly and there was no way he would make it all the way home. By the time he made it back to the center square he was the last person in the area. As he got to a lamp post he leaned up agents the pole, he realized that he shouldn't have had those few last drinks and maybe should have taken the offer of going home with Danica. He shook his head causing it to spin a bit.
"Oh bad idea." He said to himself as he placed a hand on his head before continuing on his line of thought. He had two more blocks to get to his car and then a short drive to Gibbs house and he could handle that.
Tony's mind drifted off as he looked at the empty town square. The dark streets draped in fog looked like something from an old mystery thriller movie set in old town London, like a Sherlock Holmes film. A smile crept on his face, which sounded pretty good. He wondered if he could find it on TV at a time like this, but he soon remembered Gibbs didn't have cable. As a gust of wind blew past Tony, he thought he heard a faint jingle of keys. A chill went down his back when he got the sudden feeling that his gut was warning him of impending danger, it was that or his stomach wanted to hurl all the alcohol and cheep festival food in him. He looked around him and saw nothing that would be a cause of alarm and besides he had his gun, life was good.
Tony pushed himself off the lamp post with his foot, but as his back left the cold metal something constricted around his neck jerking him back. His hands instantly moved up to his neck to try and pull away the thing that was starving him of air. Just when he thought he almost got the cord off his neck, he was kicked behind his knee sending him to the ground and his attacker used the cord around his neck to pull him all the way down to the cold cement. Tony moved his hands higher, clawing at the strong arms that held the cord tightly around his neck. He could feel skin and the sticky substance of blood embed themselves under his nails. Tony looked as far as he could behind him only to see a pair of dark blue shorts. Tony struggled as much as he could but that only caused the cord to tighten and a knee jammed into his back forcing him to lie completely on his stomach. His eyes felt the salty sting of perspiration that fell from his face mixed with tears. There was nobody to hear him scream; even if he could draw breath. There was no one around to help him; for they were all asleep.
Then it was like he suddenly woke up and Tony remembered his gun that he had on his right side. Both hands forgot about the cord and tied to get his gun for its holster, but his attacker saw this and pulled even harder with the cord with one hand as the other went to get the gun. Tony tried desperately to point the gun in what he thought could be the area his attacker could be. But black spots danced mockingly in front of his vision and he felt very light headed, he knew he didn't have much time. They fought for the direction of the gun; however any direction was a danger to Tony. He knew that if he pulled the trigger the bullet would hit him, but if he didn't do something he would die. With the last bit of consciousness Tony squeezed the trigger just as his world went black.