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Present day…
"To a job well done!" Ducky held up his brandy glass, motioning for the rest of the team to do so as well. It was the end of a rather long, rather gruesome murder that had had Team Gibbs working at all hours of the night. Only this afternoon, an unexpected witness had finally come forward with enough evidence to arrest the killer and Ducky had insisted that the team celebrate having a pint at his favorite pub.
"Cheers!" The team lifted their glasses and clinked them together.
The celebration continued long into the night, full of Ducky's stories, Palmer's interruptions, Ziva's misinterpretations of idioms, and McGee's corrections. Even Gibbs participated by throwing in the occasional anecdote.
Sometime after the second round, Tony realized he was having a hard time concentrating on the conversations. He was hearing the words but they weren't resonating. He found himself staying uncharacteristically silent, forced to concentrate on just staying awake.
"Remember that, Tony?" McGee asked, bringing Tony around for the third time.
"Yeah, McGeek. I do." Tony replied, even though he had no idea what McGee was talking about. He apparently had faded away from the conversation yet again.
This was getting weirder and weirder. He felt completely wasted, but had only had two drinks. The same guy who could guzzle a beer in under six seconds in Panama City and who could keep up with the Japanese ambassadors in shots was completely sauced a few years later after just two beers? Yeah, something was up.
He raised a hand to wipe his sweaty brow. Damn, it was hot in here. Why didn't they open a window? It was plenty cold outside, he griped as he loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar.
His stomach started to ache, reminding Tony how long it had been since he had eaten last. He'd been forced to eat his emergency Snickers bar in his desk drawer en route to nabbing the killer and hadn't had time for lunch. He grabbed the nearby menu and inspected it but nothing looked appetizing.
God, he really felt terrible. Just keeping his eyes open was draining all his remaining energy and he had long since lost track of what Ducky was saying—something about crochet and cricket and other English sports.
He hoped he wasn't getting sick since he hated being sick more than Indiana Jones hated snakes, more than James Bond hated stirred martinis and more than Magnum hated Higgins when the Brit halved his rubber chicken. Besides the lethargy, the nose blowing, the coughing, the aches—as if those weren't bad enough—he would be forced to sit at home while his team worked without him…Speaking of home, maybe he'd better leave, take a hot shower, maybe eat some soup and go straight to bed. Hopefully, that would counter whatever this was and he'd be fine by Monday.
Tony went to get up and almost fell off the swiveling bar stool as the world spun wildly around him. He caught the bar, reoriented himself and straightened up. He focused his vision and caught Gibbs staring at him.
"I'm fine," he muttered to Gibbs' unspoken question. He concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and managed to arrive at the car without tripping. He fumbled in his pocket for his keys, pulling them out with stiff, unresponsive fingers. The world was blurring quickly and he could hardly tell one key from the other. He fiddled with the ring, trying to locate his car key while debating whether he should go back in and ask one of his teammates for a ride. Nah, that'd be too embarrassing; he was Anthony DiNozzo, and, as he'd been reminded by his father from a very young age, DiNozzo's held their liquor and they did not pass out.
After what seemed like an eternity, Tony located the correct key. He heard heavy footsteps behind him and spun around, dropping his key ring in the process. He glared at the intruder who had undone five minutes of his hard work in a split second.
"You okay, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked.
"I'll live," Tony muttered, bending down to pick up his keys.
He suddenly regretted not eating anything in the bar as the ache in his stomach had increased in intensity. His vision swirled as he bent over, forcing him to grab the side window to keep from collapsing.
Still tightly holding the car door, he reached for his keys, but they were snatched up before he could grab them. Tony glared again at Gibbs.
"Keys?" he asked, holding out his hand.
Gibbs shook his head disapprovingly. "How many did you have, DiNozzo?"
"Two. It's not that…I think I'm getting sick," Tony admitted. Wait! Had he just said that to Gibbs? What was wrong with him? He never outwardly confessed that type of feelings, not even to his boss. Especially not to his boss.
Gibbs didn't answer immediately, a thoughtful expression on his face as he contemplated what his agent had just told him. "I'll drive you home," Gibbs said gruffly, deftly locating the correct key and starting the engine.
Tony stumbled around to the passenger's side, yanking weakly on the door handle until Gibbs reached over and opened the door for him.
"Thanks boss," Tony said, clumsily arranging himself in the seat.
"You sure you're good?" Gibbs clarified, pulling the car out of the pub, noticing the slightly green pallor to Tony's skin.
"Never better," Tony mumbled as he closed his eyes, concentrating on not doing something stupid like retching in his car or his newly purchased hand-stitched Italian shoes.
"Tony," the Senior Field Agent heard through his dreams, feeling Gibbs gently shaking his shoulder. "You'll stay at my place tonight, especially considering your heater is broken and all," Gibbs added with a tone that revealed he hadn't believed Tony's lie from earlier that week. Tony's muddled brain tried comprehend what had just happened. No way, they were at Gibbs' already! They had only left the bar a second ago, and even Gibbs didn't drive that fast! He stopped trying to process the situation and gasped for breath as the throbbing ache in his stomach chose that moment to return at full force.
"DiNozzo!" Tony heard the concern etched in Gibbs' voice. "Tell me what's wrong. And if the words 'nothing' or 'I'm fine' come outta your mouth, I'll have you on desk duty so fast your head will spin."
"Stomach," Tony managed as the throbbing ache intensified. Dammit! There he was again, telling his boss much more than usual. It wasn't as if he'd been injected with a truth serum again, which had forced him to answer the given questions, but he found himself in a similar situation, unable to keep quiet or lie to anyone.
Tony felt his head loll to one side, his neck suddenly boneless. "DiNozzo! Stay with me!" he heard Gibbs call, but his boss' voice was waxing and waning like cellular reception in Rock Creek Park.
On it, boss, Tony thought, unable to find the energy to make his mouth move.
"The ambulance is on its way," he heard Gibbs say. "Just hold on for a few more minutes, okay? Ya hear me, DiNozzo? Just stay still and try not to do anymore damage."
Ambulance? Tony thought fuzzily. Not if he could help it! He was not going to the hospital for some stupid stomach bug! Tony gathered his remaining energy and threw himself into the door, managing to force it open. He heard Gibbs release a string of Marine-worthy swear words as he hauled himself out of the car, gripping the top of the door so tightly his knuckles turned white.
A knifing pain replaced the intense throbbing in his stomach and Tony lost control of his body. He felt himself falling backwards. He could hear the world moving around him, but was unable to distinguish anything over the loud buzz that filled his ears. He was vaguely aware of someone catching him and lowering him to the ground.
As his grasp on reality faded, he felt someone grab his wrist as if feeling for a pulse. Even in his current state, he thought that was strange—he knew his heart was still pumping since he could feel it pounding wildly in his chest. He felt someone shaking him, but it felt disjointed, as if he was watching Gibbs shake someone else.
Suddenly, there was a sharp stinging sensation in his cheek, the shock and surprise flooded adrenaline through his system and brought Tony back to consciousness for a second. His eyes flew open as he heard a strangled cry. Oh God! Was Gibbs hurt as well? Tony hadn't thought to ask before now…In his defense, he had had other things on his mind. He squinted at Gibbs who kneeling over him, mouth closed. Damn! That noise was coming from him!. He forced his mouth shut and took a quick inventory of his system. His cheek was quickly growing warm and tingling crazily, allowing the pain in his gut to temporarily subside. That could only mean one thing: Gibbs had just slapped him. In the face. Wasn't there a rule against that or something? he thought as he mustered the strength to speak.
"Whaz…'hat 'or?" he slurred hazily.
"Ya stopped breathing," Gibbs leaned back on his heels, a relieved expression on his face.
Tony was unable to speak again for the sheer effort of remaining conscious was quickly sapping his energy reserves. The adrenaline that had momentarily rushed his body was draining as fast as it had come despite the knifing pain in his stomach returning to its full strength. He compensated by raising his eyebrows to ask his unspoken question.
Gibbs nodded affirmatively.
Tony closed his eyes again, focusing on inhaling and exhaling. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. In with the good air, out with the bad. In with the good air…out…with….the…bad…
He woke up with an incredibly bright light overhead. He could hardly open his eyes, squinting in order to make out a dark shape drifting in front of the pseudo-sun. They were driving over an incredibly bumpy road and he felt himself being bounced up and down as they sped to the hospital.
"Agent DiNozzo? Tony! Stay with us!" a kind female voice ordered him. Tony managed to nod his head once before losing consciousness once again.
He woke again in semidarkness. The door to the hallway was partially open, allowing soft light to shine into the room. He tried to move his hand in front of face to shield his eyes from the light, but was forced to stop when he felt the tug of an IV in his hand. Dammit! He was in the hospital. What the hell was he doing there?
He heard a chair screeching against the linoleum and saw a blurry figure leaning over him.
"Gibbs?" Tony gasped.
The person laughed. "I am not Agent Gibbs."
Tony fought to focus his vision with inexplicable urgency. He recognized that voice, but his fuzzy mind prevented him from recalling the intruder's name. His vision finally cleared and he saw the dark, shifty eyes, the pinched features and the long stringy hair. He was fully awake as a name floated through the fog. Shit, he was in deep trouble.
"Do I finally have your attention, Detective DiNozzo?" the man crooned, pulling out a needle. Tony struggled to keep the syringe away from his person but, in his weakened state, he was ineffective. The man injected something into Tony's IV and darkness started to cloud his vision once again.
"Give me a call when you wake—we've got so much to talk about." That was the last thing Tony heard. The face of James Mason swirled in front of his face before Tony succumbed to the drugs and the world faded to blackness.
Tony's drug-induced dreams were fitful and discombobulated, revolving mainly around his first, and only, joint investigation with NCIS ten years ago.
It was August 25th. James Mason and his gang were suspected of robbing the United Bank of Baltimore. In the process, a gun had discharged and a Marine, who had been setting up a joint bank account with his new wife, had been shot. He was sent to the hospital immediately where he made a full recovery. The Marine, unfortunately, was a friend of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs, NCIS, and had called in a boatload of favors to have Gibbs assigned to the case.
Gibbs had made Tony's life a living hell the entire week he had been staying in Baltimore. He appeared out of nowhere, shocking the young detective within inches of his life on many occasions. Gibbs also failed to share information unless directly ordered to by one Director Morrow, who Tony had decided must be a pretty important guy if he could order this Gibbs around. To his credit, Tony took none of this fed's crap, standing up to the man in what must have been a world first, if the expressions on Blackadder's and Burley's faces had anything to do with it.
The last occasion of such bravado earned him a hard smack to the back of his head.
"What the hell was that for?" Tony spat, his hands reflexively forming fists in his jacket pocket, shooting daggers at the NCIS agent.
"You were out of line," Gibbs stated, turning his back on the Baltimore cop.
Tony stood stock-still, his mouth opening and closing in anger, but no words escaped his lips. He shook his head in disbelief, sprinting to catch up to the fed.
He grabbed Gibbs by the arm and swung him around, prepared to give the fed verbal reprimand. But the fed had other plans: he grabbed Tony's arm and used his momentum to flip him to the floor without breaking stride.
"I'd check out that security camera once again," Gibbs called over his shoulder. "You missed something."
Mike Kenzie appeared in Tony's vision.
"You okay, pardner?" he drawled, holding out a hand to help up Tony. "You can report him, you know."
"Nah," Tony replied, dusting himself off, "he was right. I crossed the line, but no one's ever called me on it before…" Tony followed Gibbs' retreating form for another minute with a mix of surprise and amusement on his face before shifting his gaze back to Kenzie.
"We'd better go check out that security footage. Apparently…we missed something."
At the end of a very long week, they had been able to link Mason's team to the crime with only circumstantial evidence. Then Gibbs got the phone call from one Abby Scuito, who sounded like an amazing person to meet, in Tony's opinion. He hoped another joint investigation would come along and he'd have the pleasure of meeting the person behind the incredibly sexy voice. She had 'humpty-dumptied' (her words, not his) the ruined camera film into usable footage. This was grounds enough to get the members of Mason's team arrested. Mason unfortunately had not appeared on any footage and his goons had no idea where he currently was. The safe house at which they were supposed to regroup had been seized and searched with no further evidence linking Mason to the crime.
About ten thousand dollars had been taken, as well as the contents of six safety deposit boxes. Mason had disappeared with it all…so NCIS and BPD thought. Team Gibbs returned to Washington, D.C. and Tony and Kenzie were assigned additional cases, Mason's file buried under a mound of more pressing, less elusive suspects.
One week later, their luck changed. Mason was picked up by a random traffic search for another high profile case as he left Baltimore. According to the report, another woman had been in the car with Mason, and had not said a word during the entire car search. A suspicious box was spotted in the back of the car, but when the cop asked about it, Mason had sped away, almost running over another BPD cop in the process. Within minutes, all the Baltimore cops were aware of the situation, Tony and Kenzie were reassigned the lead on the seemingly dead case.
They had sped out of the station in hot pursuit of Mason's SUV, Tony skillfully navigating the freeway traffic, his siren blaring. Kenzie announced their presence over the bullhorn and commanded Mason to stop. Kenzie also called Gibbs, who had been headed back to Baltimore for the latest news. The NCIS sedan was tailing Tony's Crown Vic within minutes, making Tony wonder just how fast the fed was driving. Mason hadn't listened to Kenzie, cutting off two Hummers while exiting the freeway from the HOV lane. The light at the end of the off-ramp was red, but Mason either didn't notice or didn't care. He blew right through the intersection, crashing into the corner lamppost to avoid being hit by a car. Kenzie observed the accident, calling the paramedics immediately while Tony and Gibbs struggled to exit the freeway safely.
By the time they got to the scene, Mason and his girlfriend had gotten out of the car. The girlfriend was screaming at Mason, and stepped into the street to begin her getaway. She never saw the oncoming car. As if in a horror movie, her body flew up into the air, landing on the tarmac with a sickening crash. Mason stared open-mouthed at the scene that unfolded in front of him before sprinting over to his girlfriend, cradling her head in his arms. He looked up to the sky, and screamed obscenities at the person who had allowed this to happen to his Helen. Gibbs trained his gun on the two, while Kenzie and Tony fanned out, surrounding the hapless criminal. The driver had stopped immediately when he had hit Helen and huddled against the nearest building, whimpering about how she just jumped in front of him and how he tried to avoid her.
Mason appeared to be physically fine, bleeding only from a cut above his forehead. As Kenzie pulled him to his feet, Tony carefully lowered Helen back on the ground and began CPR for a few moments before reaching out two fingers and gently closed Helen's eyelids. Mason looked at Tony with true horror and disgust on his features. He squinted in an attempt to read Tony's nametag through the blood that was impeding his vision.
"You will pay for this Detective DiNozzo," Mason hissed as Kenzie tightened the cuffs. "You, your partner, and that fellow over there," he thrust his head at Gibbs. "You're all going to pay. I'll be back eventually, and you'd better have someone watching your back when I do, 'cause you're going to need all the help you can get."
"Shut it Mason," Kenzie spat as he escorted Mason to the squad car, sirens sounding in the distance.
"I am going to take everything you love away from you, and you won't be able to do anything about it. You will fail to save those you care about," Mason screamed as Kenzie slammed the door closed. "I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE!"
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