When life hands you lemons, you have to make lemonade. This new chapter is your lemonade! Enjoy! :)
The automatic doors whooshed closed just behind Mason, trapping Tony and Gibbs in the car for another stop. The minute Mason left, the NCIS agents sprang from their seats. They had to alert McGee and Ziva and get them to Baltimore as fast as possible. The men, followed closely by Ricky, hurried forward to access the other cars and hopefully commandeer a cell phone. Tony frowned at the small catwalk that connected the two subway cars.
"You sure that's gonna hold us?" he questioned, mild trepidation creeping into his voice.
"No," Gibbs stated. "You got a better idea?"
"Sadly, no," Tony replied sourly. He grabbed the front rail, planted one foot on the rickety catwalk and leapt across to the other car before he had a chance to change his mind.
This car was almost empty as well, except for a young couple texting on their smart phones. Tony threw open the door, startling the pair.
"NCIS. I need your cell phone," Tony ordered, marching up to the couple and standing directly in front of them.
"NCI-who?" The girl looked up at Tony questioningly.
"Naval Crim—you know what? Never mind. Just give me your phone." He reached for the device.
"No," the girl shrieked, pulling her phone close to her chest. "You can't do that."
"Official business, miss," Gibbs said, holding out his hand. Ricky was hovering around Gibbs' blind spot, causing an uneasy feeling that a senior agent such as himself was definitely not used to feeling. Attempting to forget Ricky's presence all together, Gibbs met the young lady's gaze evenly and raised his eyebrows slightly. "There are lives at stake," he added while maintaining her eye contact. She cocked her head slightly before slowly extending the phone.
"Catherine! What are you doing?" her friend cried.
"I believe them. I don't know why, but I do." Catherine gave Gibbs' an appraising look. "If it wouldn't be too much trouble, can you drop it off at the address on the back when you're done with it?"
"I think we could manage that," Gibbs half-smiled at Catherine before tossing the phone to Tony. They walked hurriedly towards the nearest doors, ready to jump off as soon as the subway stopped.
Before Tony could dial the number, the phone was ripped from his grasp. Ricky stood a few feet away, the cell phone gripped tightly in his massive paw.
"What's the number?" he questioned, motioning with one hand toward the lump in his pocket.
"555-4335," Tony recited.
Ricky turned to Gibbs. "That true?"
"Would he lie to you?" Gibbs asked, deciding to assume Tony's job and going for the witty answer.
Ricky dialed the number and handed the phone back to Tony. "You know what happens if you are …" he trailed off ominously.
"McGee!" Tony barked into the phone as soon as the Probie picked up. "Where are you?"
"About half-way to Baltimore," McGee answered. Blaring car horns and loud swearing were monopolizing the call and making it hard for Tony to hear.
"What? How…" Tony stammered.
"Remember that tracker Abby wanted to implant in you last time you went missing?"
"She didn't!" Tony exclaimed incredulously, trying to envision where said tracker would be located.
"She did. She called us an hour ago when she saw you had left the hospital. The way Ziva's driving, we'll be there in less than twenty minutes." McGee stopped speaking as a loud crash sounded in the background.
"Probie! You okay?" Tony shouted into the phone.
"Make that less than ten, Tony!" Ziva declared, assorted skidding noises and collisions filtering through the line. "You Americans and your driving…If I were in Israel, I could have been there already."
"Just try not to leave too much carnage, Zee-vah. Vance is already in for the surprise of his life when he gets Gibbs' tickets…"
"I cannot promise anything," she replied. There were soft wrestling noises before McGee came back on.
"Where should we meet you?" he questioned.
"There's a park Kenzie and I used to visit when we needed ideas," Tony rattled off the address to McGee.
"We'll meet you there in less than ten," McGee stated uneasily as car horns continued to sound. He apparently moved the phone away from his mouth, for his "Could you slow down a little Ziva? I'd like to arrive in one piece if that's okay" could only faintly be heard. The corners of Tony's mouth turned up into a small smile. If Ziva decided NCIS wasn't for her, she'd make a killing as an Indy 500 racer.
"Just hurry, Tim," Tony added before hanging up the phone. He glanced at Ricky who was standing a short distance away, before frowning disapprovingly and turning his back on the man who had been assigned to follow them.
"Sooo…how are we gonna rob a bank?" Tony asked Gibbs while he shoved his hands in his pockets and slouched tiredly against the wall. Ricky took the closest seat to the doors, still in eavesdropping distance.
"I'm working on it," Gibbs replied gruffly, turning to face the doors again.
"You know, there was this movie once where they made a complete replica of the vault and used looped footage to convince the owner that his vault was being robbed…but we don't have time for that. Then there's Simon Gruber and his dump truck, aqueduct idea, but there's no aqueducts in D.C…and we can't go in guns blazing since we don't have any guns. So, forceful entry's off the table."
"Something a little more covert would be nice," Gibbs interrupted while racking his brain for a solution.
"Deception's good. We could go there under false pretenses, like a postal delivery guy or a mold inspector."
"How 'bout this?" Gibbs questioned. "You think of all the movies you've ever seen. Quietly. Then, tell me about the most likely one."
Tony stopped speaking and frowned at his boss. Thinking out loud was part of his process; he'd solved many a case by bouncing ideas off his co-workers. But he decided it wasn't worth the argument.
After a few minutes of silence, Gibbs spoke up. "DiNozzo? You still got that account with the United Bank of Baltimore?"
"Yeah, boss," Tony said slowly. "What are you thinking?"
"You got a safety deposit box?"
"I think so. I'd have to check."
"Either you do or you don't, DiNozzo. We don't have time to 'check'," Gibbs growled, staring expectantly at his agent.
"I have one, but it's not exactly kosher, if you know what I mean," Tony admitted, matching Gibbs' stare with one of his own. When one takes on a mob boss, you never know when you might need an extra passport, some spare cash, and/or an extra gun. "That gonna be a problem?"
"We'll have to make it work. What's the name on the account?"
"Stringfellow Hawke. What else?" Tony grinned at Gibbs, who, as usual, didn't catch his witty reference.
Gibbs was about to reprimand Tony for not picking something more mundane, but the subway screeched to a stop before he could begin.
The NCIS agents flew out of the subway and up the stairs to the ground floor. Gibbs had made it to the top of the stairs and had almost exited the subway station before realizing Tony wasn't next to him. He stopped dead in his tracks, spinning around to search for his agent.
Tony was just reaching the top stairs, both hands tightly gripping the handrail. His sweaty face was pale and taught with concentration. Even from a distance, Gibbs could see he was fighting much too hard to bring air into his lungs.
Gibbs sprinted back to Tony, offering his hand in assistance. Tony shook his head wildly to refuse Gibbs' offer, wincing as he did so.
"I'm fine, boss. But I think I need to hit the gym a few more times a month. Those stairs ain't what they used to be." As Tony pulled himself to the top step, his face went completely white and his eyes rolled back into his head. Gibbs, who had recognized the warning signs of passing out, managed to grab the lapels of Tony's suit jacket to keep his agent from collapsing.
"Dammit, DiNozzo!" Gibbs cursed as he struggled to support his agent. He looped Tony's arm over his shoulder and tried to take as much of Tony's weight as possible. Why the hell did Mason try to poison them? He wasn't going to get anything accomplished if they were both dead!
"Give us some help!" he barked at Ricky who was standing uselessly off to the side.
Ricky noted the intensity in Gibbs' tone and wisely did not argue. He slung Tony's other arm over his shoulder so the Italian hung limply between them. "He looks terrible."
"D'ya think?" Gibbs asked sarcastically, his voice dripping with venom.
"What do you have planned?"
"We need a car. Think you can manage that once we get outside?"
Ricky looked like he was going to protest, but Gibbs fixed him with one of deadliest glares. "Ya," Ricky sighed heavily. "I think I can manage."
"Boss?" Gibbs heard Tony questioned uncertainly.
"How ya feeling, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked for the second time today, feeling some of Tony's weight being lifted from his shoulders as his Senior Field Agent attempted walking. That simple effort apparently was too much for Tony in his current state, for his knees buckled and he lost consciousness again.
The one good thing about the situation was that people were much friendlier to someone who looked injured, as Tony did. They immediately moved out of the way, allowing the trio to exit the station without incident. Gibbs gently lowered Tony onto a bench while Ricky sped away to find a vehicle. He gently grasped Tony's wrist and felt for the pulse. His heart rate was elevated but steady. Gibbs gently pried open one of Tony's eyes, noting how the pupils shrank to avoid the bright sunlight. That was as good a sign as any that his brain was still functioning properly.
Tony stirred once before cracking his eyes open again. "Where are we?" he asked between heavy breaths.
"Outside the station," Gibbs informed him.
"How'd we…didn't pass out, did I?" Tony attempted to look concerned, but, in his current state, just managed to make himself look more sickly. His breathing was labored and he had one hand protectively wrapped around his stomach. The amount of effort it took for Tony to keep breathing did not go unnoticed by Gibbs.
"Twice." Tony's eyes went wide with shock.
"No one's…gotta know…'bout? Right?"
"You're sick, Tony. I think that's the least of their worries right now."
"True…boss…where's Ricky?" Tony had noticed the absence of their favorite henchmen long ago.
"He went to find us a car. You're in no condition to walk to that park."
" 'Sa 'nother thing…Vance 'sn't gonna…b' happy 'bout," Tony replied, fighting with all his might to keep his eyes open. Gibbs noticed the struggle and wasn't about to let it continue.
"Why don't you close your eyes for a second, Tony?" he asked, knowing the younger man would never willing admit that he needed some sleep. "I'll wake you when Ricky gets here."
"Think I'll just…check m' eyes…for sun leaks," Tony quipped weakly as he allowing his eyes to close. Gibbs placed one hand on Tony's forearm, a gesture that was meant to offer a small amount of comfort. His effort did not go unheeded for Gibbs felt Tony relax and heard the deepening of his breaths as the younger man drifted off into sleep. Tony really should be in a hospital. Damn Mason and his plans, his challenges, and his stupid game.
A car horn brought Gibbs out of his reverie. Ricky had returned with a small, four-door sedan. He came around to help Gibbs gently place Tony in the backseat. Tony stirred and muttered something under his breath but did not wake. Gibbs took the seat next to Tony, buckling his agent's seatbelt and making sure the Senior Field Agent was as comfortable as possible.
Ricky pulled away from the curb, squealing the tires. Gibbs took this time to review his plan. It wasn't perfect in any manner and was going to take a helluva team effort to pull it off. He took Tony's pulse again, alarmed by how fast his heart was beating—clearly, the poison wasn't completely out of his system yet. Gibbs continued to examine Tony, noticing the tinges of pink on Tony's cheeks that were in sharp contrast to his ashen complexion. Great, he was running a fever. That's just what they needed.
"We're here," Ricky announced gruffly after a few more minutes of silence.
Gibbs walked around to Tony's side of the car. He squatted next to the car, putting one arm on Tony's bicep, using the other to gently shake his agent's shoulder. "DiNozzo," he said softly.
Tony's eyes opened and he let out a small groan. "At the park, already?"
"Yeah." Gibbs paused before cautiously asking, "Can you get out of the car?"
"Uh, yeah," Tony stated, giving Gibbs a 'what do you think?' look. He gathered his remaining energy and pulled himself out of the car. His knees buckled, but he remained conscious, tightly gripping the door jamb to support himself.
"Um…maybe I need a hand," he looked over his shoulder at Gibbs. Gibbs nodded, ducking under Tony's outstretched arm and wrapping his own around Tony's upper back. Together, they stumbled to the nearest park bench. Tony plopped himself down in the middle of the seat, closing his eyes again.
"Thanks, boss," he muttered faintly.
"Do you need anything?" Gibbs questioned.
"A venti coffee, black, would be wonderful, but I don't suppose there's a Starblocks around…"
"No, there isn't. But there is a coffee vender not far away. You," Gibbs motioned Ricky, holding out some bills, "here's ten dollars. Two large coffees, black."
"I am not your gofer," Ricky protested.
With a speed even Gibbs didn't know he possessed, he grabbed Ricky and threw him against the nearest monument, his forearm pressing lightly on Ricky's trachea.
"Your boss just tried to kill us both, and almost succeeded. I am not in the mood for your lip. If you don't want to speak to St. Peter today, I suggest you start helping out without being asked. Now: Get. Us. Some. Coffee."
Gibbs removed his forearm from Ricky's throat, holding out the bills again.
Ricky frowned at Gibbs and rubbed his throat, while reaching for the money.
"When Mason hears about this…"
"Mason had better not hear about it, or prison won't be an option for you once he's arrested," Gibbs growled. "Oh, and you'd better bring back some food too—healthy stuff. Sandwiches, and the like." He pulled a few more bills from his wallet and handed them to the henchman.
Ricky gulped, the implications of Gibbs' threat ringing loudly and clearly. "Two coffees, then. Black. And some sandwiches," he repeated as he hustled to the nearest coffee vendor.
Hmmm….What is Gibbs' plan and how does the safety deposit box fit in? Will Tony be able to help his team rob the bank, or will he need another hospital stay?
What do you think? Bonus points if you can figure out what McGee's number means…