Chapter Nineteen

February 5, 2011 – 4:37am

This was not his bed, Jimmy could tell right away. It was hard, and cold, and rough where his cheek was pressed against it. He was lying on his stomach on what felt like a thinly-carpeted floor. He opened his eyes, but instead of seeing Tony next to him, or even his alarm clock on the nightstand, all he could see was darkness with a blurred patch of light off to his right.

He must have groaned or made some other sound, because part of the light detached itself from the rest, waving from side to side a bit as it made its way toward him. It wasn't until the light was almost on top of him that he realized it was one of the men, carrying a flashlight.

A booted foot prodded him in the ribs, encouraging him to roll over. This Jimmy did, groaning in pain, as he squinted to try to make out the features of the man above him. The man was pointing the flashlight right at Jimmy's face, however, which meant that Jimmy couldn't see a thing beyond the bright light.

"Who are you, and why are you here?"

Jimmy identified the voice as the man from earlier in the night whose name he didn't know. He cautiously raised a hand to shield his eyes from the flashlight, hoping that his eyes would adjust enough to get a glimpse of his captor.

His silence must have annoyed the man, because the boot came back to make its acquaintance with Jimmy's ribs again, a little harder this time. "I said, who are you?"

Jimmy closed his eyes. His only hope was… oh, who was he kidding? There was no hope for him. The best he could manage would be to delay these two long enough that they'd still be in the building when the multi-agency task force arrived and set off all the traps. That would end with all of them dead; then either Jimmy would start all over again, or justice would at least be partially served with the death of two of the terrorists.

"Answer me, you little –"

"Jeez, Charlie, let it go already," the other man interrupted. Jimmy recognized Carl's voice. "Who gives a crap who he is? Just get him over here so I can finish and we can get the hell out of here."

Charlie grabbed Jimmy's coat in both hands and hauled the lighter man to his feet. Jimmy's world spun as he was half-led, half-dragged several feet toward the other patch of light. In that light he could see the other man and –

Oh, God –

Carl had apparently been quite busy, both before and after Jimmy had arrived. There was now a covered garbage can sitting at one end of the sorter; Jimmy couldn't tell without his glasses, but he'd be willing to bet that it had been wired together with the rest of the bomb. There's where Abby's extra 'boom' came from, he thought, remembering how the forensic scientist had questioned the explosive power of the bomb in the pictures.

That, he was guessing, was what had brought Charlie and Carl back to the building this time. Just Jimmy's bad luck to run right into them. Or maybe not just Jimmy's bad luck. Maybe the team had run into them last night; it was probably around the right time, depending on how long Jimmy had been unconscious…

Carl picked up a roll of duct tape and gestured to the chair at the operator's end of the sorting machine. "Sit him down, and I'll make sure he doesn't get up again."

"I kinda thought that was the point of wiring the chair?"

"I don't want to take the chance that the kid's gonna try to be a hero. Can't have him standing up and setting it off while we're still here, right?"

Oh, God…

Jimmy tried to pull away, but an open-handed smack from Charlie caught him right in the temple and sent him reeling. The larger man pushed him down onto the chair – Jimmy heard it creak slightly as his weight hit it – and Carl started wrapping the duct tape around his chest and the back of the chair, pinning his upper arms to his sides in the process.

"So if we're taping him to the chair anyway, what was the point of wiring it?"

Carl shrugged as he taped Jimmy's wrists together. "I like things that go 'boom.'"

Oh my God, I'm gonna die.

Charlie started packing up their equipment while Carl checked over his handiwork. "Campbell said Myers got her transmitter in place, finally. Bet she doesn't know she's coming in last," Carl commented casually.

"She might not," Charlie responded. "There's no guarantee Garrett's man is going to take this route. Her senator is as good a candidate as any of them to set it off." He zipped up one bag and turned to start packing the other. "Who's your money on, if it's not Garrett?"

"I don't know, I don't track their movements. But I'll tell you who I hope it is – Sigler."

"But his guy's just a lobbyist."

"A lobbyist who's got a lot of influence with the Senate Armed Services Committee. I've heard that they're actually considering his proposals…"

Jimmy tried to pay attention to the names that Carl and Charlie were tossing back and forth, but he was having a hard time concentrating. It wasn't just the multiple blows to his head, either. Oh, God, I'm going to die, I'm going to die, and these guys are placing bets on who's going to die with me, and I already know the answer…

The two men finished their tasks and left, taking the light with them. Jimmy barely noticed. He was deep in shock, his heart racing, his breathing shallow and too fast. It was taking all his self control to not start struggling in the chair, because he didn't know how sensitive the trigger was…

I'm gonna die. Tony and the others are going to be here any time now. They'll come through one of the doors and set off the bombs downstairs. We'll all die.

He closed his eyes and fought to get his breathing under control. The thought that this end might not be the end was of very little comfort; the large degree of uncertainty regarding how the time loop worked was uppermost in his mind right now. It was something that Jimmy hadn't thought about until Abby brought it up, and he'd tried not to dwell on it. But now there really wasn't any other choice.

If this does end with me dying – I mean, if my dying ends the loop – then this accomplished nothing. What was the point? At least I won't have to figure out what to do with my life after Tony. But Tony and the others will still die… unless…

The idea that occurred to Jimmy was so terrifying that for a moment, he couldn't draw a breath at all. What if I set it off now, before they get here? Then it'll just be me. No one else has to die. Just me…

He opened his eyes and stared at the sorting machine, packed full of explosives, with even more – he assumed – set up at the other end of the machine.

I was willing to take the chance when I thought I might cut the wrong wire, he thought. This is almost the same thing. I must be sitting on some sort of pressure-sensitive detonator or something. All I'd have to do is tip the chair over. That's all. I've fallen out of my chair dozens of times. How much harder can this be?

It seemed so simple, and yet… Jimmy sat frozen in place, unable to move a muscle.

Tony, I'm sorry. I don't think I can do it. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to convince himself to lean back in the chair, just far enough to unbalance himself. It would just take a second, he knew, if he did it quickly…

I can't. I can't. Jimmy bowed his head and rested his forehead on his bound hands as he began to cry quietly. I'm sorry, Tony, I can't do this. I want to – no, I don't, I don't want to die, but I don't want anyone else to die, either. But –

Abruptly, his head snapped up. Had he just heard something?

Oh, God, they're here. That sounded like tires squealing out there. That's Gibbs, I'd bet money that's Gibbs, and any minute –

Jimmy ducked his head and squeezed his eyes shut. It was stupid, he knew, but he didn't want to see it coming. Make it quick, just make it quick, and please, please let me wake up next to Tony in the morning –

But the seconds crawled by, and nothing went boom. Jimmy whimpered as the tension increased. What was taking so long? Not that he was eager to die, but the waiting was driving him crazy…

The door to the stairwell slammed open. Jimmy flinched away from the sound, his heart leaping in his chest when he heard the chair squeak slightly with the movement. He forced himself to stay still, straining to hear past the pounding in his ears. What had happened? Did Charlie and Carl forget something else?

Flashlight beams bounced off the walls, coming closer. Then a figure stepped out from around the corner, light in one hand and gun in the other, and paused while she quickly assessed the corridor for threats –

"Ziva!"

She lowered her gun and stared at him, then quickly began making her way to him. "Palmer, what –"

"Ziva, no!" Jimmy struggled to hold on to the last of his self control. All he wanted was for them to save him, to get him out of there, but – "You have to get out of here!" he shouted. "There's not enough time, just go! Please!"

Ziva rushed to him anyway, quickly holstering her gun as she moved. "The chair, it is wired?" she asked unnecessarily as she walked quickly around him, flashlight aimed at the lower part of the chair.

"Yes, I think it's wired into that thing." Jimmy nodded his head toward the document sorter. "There's all kinds of stuff in there and I think in the trashcan and there isn't time for you to do anything about it! Just go! Get everyone out of here!"

Jimmy hadn't even noticed the others converging on the sorter from different directions until Tony dropped to his knees in front of him, an expression of shock and horror on his face.

"Jimmy! How did this happen?" The agent ducked his head to look under the chair, presumably at the detonator underneath. "How the hell did you get involved in this?"

"Tony, please, you have to listen to me." Tears dripped onto his bound hands as Jimmy pleaded with his lover. "You guys have to get out of here. There's a car coming along any minute with a remote detonator, and it's going to blow this thing sky high. There isn't time to do anything. Please, please just go…" Jimmy was sobbing by this time, in fear and anguish. "I can't watch you die, just go, please…" he whispered.

The moment Jimmy had mentioned the car, Gibbs had turned to McGee, but the younger man was already pulling out his cell phone and dialing. "I'll get the roads closed, Boss. One mile radius around this place." He moved a few steps away, holding his hand over his ear to block out any distracting sounds – like Jimmy's hysterical weeping, for example.

Jimmy looked over Tony's head at Gibbs. He knew it was pointless to ask Gibbs to leave – the former Marine wouldn't leave a man behind, even one not on his team – but the man could be coldly practical when need be. "Gibbs, get them out of here. Please –" It was hard to speak through the tears and the crying, but he had to convince him. "Please, they don't need to be here – it's too dangerous –" His chest tightened painfully. "Please –"

To his immense relief, Gibbs nodded. "DiNozzo, McGee, outside," he ordered, coming around to crouch next to Ziva, out of Jimmy's line of sight. "Ziva –"

"No way." The words were spoken quietly but clearly, coming from the man kneeling next to the chair, still intently studying what was underneath.

"Tony, please!" Jimmy cried.

Tony lifted his head so he could look Jimmy in the eyes. "I'm not leaving you."

"DiNozzo, that's an order –"

"No."

"Damn it, DiNozzo! You –"

"Boss, would you have left Shannon?"

Jimmy heard the startled gasp from Ziva, saw McGee's jaw drop. He could only imagine the look on Gibbs' face – or his own, for that matter. He watched, wide-eyed, as Tony removed the knife from his belt buckle and reached for Jimmy's hands.

"Don't move, Jimmy," Tony whispered, as if the rest of his team wasn't watching with mouths agape. He carefully slid the knife, sharpened edge up, between Jimmy's wrists underneath the duct tape, and began slowly sawing his way through. "I'm not leaving you," he repeated, glancing up at his lover's face once before returning his attention to his work with the blade. "We'll get you out of here. Just stay calm, okay?"

Behind him, Jimmy could hear Ziva muttering to herself in Hebrew as she refocused her attention on the detonator. McGee finished his phone call and came back, kneeling to Tony's left and shining his flashlight underneath the chair to provide more light. Jimmy still had no idea what Gibbs was doing, which worried him just a little. Provided they survived the night, Jimmy wasn't entirely certain they would survive the lead agent's wrath. He kept his head down, watching Tony's progress through the tape.

"Ziva, how's it coming?" Tony asked, keeping his voice level. Jimmy recognized the tone; it was what he thought of as Tony's 'post-Palmer meltdown' voice, the quiet, calm tone that had soothed him out of countless nightmares over the last several weeks.

"Give me a moment." Ziva's voice betrayed her tension. "I believe I can disconnect the pressure sensor here, and then we can cut him free."

Tony, in the meantime, had finished cutting through the tape binding Jimmy's wrists. He passed his knife to Gibbs, then took Jimmy's hands in his and squeezed gently. "Hey. Look at me." He waited until Jimmy's eyes lifted to meet his. "You're doing good. Just a few more minutes."

The reminder of how much time was passing jolted him. Jimmy's hands tightened on Tony's as panic took hold of him. "You don't have a few minutes, Tony. You need to get out of here!"

"Shh, stay calm, Jimmy."

"I can't!" He was starting to hyperventilate now. "Please – please go – run – please –" But Jimmy's body betrayed him; even as he begged them to go, he couldn't let go of Tony's hands.

"Palmer." This was Gibbs' voice. Jimmy heard the other man stand up behind him; he all but hovered over the chair. "We're almost there. Get ready."

Jimmy's hands shook in Tony's. Could he – could they really get out of this? He felt Gibbs' hand rest very lightly on his left shoulder; looking up, he saw that Gibbs was holding the knife, ready to slice through the duct tape binding him to the chair.

"Wait…" Ziva whispered. Then – "There! Got it!"

Jimmy started to sob in relief as Gibbs started cutting his way through the tape, holding Jimmy's shoulder to keep the young man still. Ziva stood and pulled her own knife from the sheath on her right calf, which she used to start on the tape on Jimmy's right side.

As soon as the last strand of tape parted, Jimmy tumbled out of the chair to land in Tony's arms. Tony held him close even as he started to pull them both to their feet.

"How – how d-did you find me?" Jimmy's voice was as shaky as his legs; Tony was supporting at least half his weight. Gibbs came up on Jimmy's right side and pulled the younger man's arm across his shoulders, helping to keep him upright.

"Abby called. Said she was afraid you were going to do something stupid." Gibbs wasn't the type to pull punches. "Looks like she was right."

"B-but –"

"You left your phone on. We were able to track you by GPS, and she warned us about the doors." Tony firmly took hold of Jimmy's chin and turned the younger man's face to his. "Jimmy, what do you think –"

He was interrupted by a most unwelcome sound outside – the sound of multiple vehicles screeching to a halt in the parking lot below.

McGee went to the window and looked down. "Boss!" he exclaimed. "It's Fornell and Stiller's teams!"

Jimmy didn't understand why McGee sounded so upset until Ziva started to curse in Hebrew and Gibbs started pushing them toward the doors. "Go! Go!" the former Marine shouted. "They don't know about the doors!"

Terror struck him then like an electric shock. He stumbled, but got his feet under him and pulled away from Gibbs' and Tony's arms, the adrenaline rushing through him giving him strength he hadn't had a moment before. They started running for the stairwell, Ziva and McGee in the lead, Tony and Gibbs following behind Jimmy as they ran for their lives.

Jimmy followed the twin flashlight beams ahead of him, but when they got to the stairs, he had to slow down so he didn't miss the first step. Tony saw the difficulty his lover was having without his glasses and came up alongside him, grabbing onto Jimmy's hand to guide him. Jimmy squeezed Tony's hand hard as they made it to the first landing and turned to take the next flight of stairs, Gibbs just two steps behind.

They made it down two more flights, but when they started down the next set of stairs, Jimmy overstepped the first stair and lost his balance. Tony tried to keep hold of his hand and Gibbs made a grab for him, but momentum and gravity were not on their side. With a terrified scream, Jimmy tumbled down the stairs, landing in a heap at the bottom.

Ziva and McGee had been a flight ahead, but they turned back at Jimmy's cry of pain as Gibbs and Tony hurried down the stairs after him.

"Palmer! You alright?" McGee got to him first and started looking him over for injuries.

Jimmy couldn't breathe – he'd had the wind knocked out of him – but that wasn't what had him panicking. It was the excruciating pain in his left knee, coupled with the knowledge that while they were trying to help him, they were allowing the FBI and ATF agents to get closer to the building, that frightened him almost past the point of rational thought. He tried to tell them, but he couldn't speak, couldn't make himself understood –

Desperately he stretched his hand out – past McGee, past Tony, who was kneeling at his side – and grabbed Gibbs' wrist, just below the man's orange watchband.

"Palmer, what –"

Once he had Gibbs' attention, Jimmy let go and quickly signed, Go. Run. Leave me.

"Like hell!" But even as he said it, Gibbs realized what Jimmy was getting at. "McGee, David, get out there, stop them from getting in!"

The two younger agents didn't argue. They might not know what Jimmy had said, but they could see the bizarre angle that Jimmy's knee was bent at and could draw their own conclusions. McGee and Ziva took off down the stairs as Gibbs and Tony positioned themselves on opposite sides of the injured autopsy assistant and prepared to lift him.

"No." Jimmy's whisper was barely audible, which made it easier for the two agents to ignore. They each pulled one of Jimmy's arms over their shoulders, then grabbed the back of his coat with one hand and underneath his legs with the other. It was going to be painful as hell, with no way to stabilize the knee, but there wasn't time to worry about that.

"Leave me," Jimmy begged just before they picked him up. He turned terrified eyes on Tony. "Please…"

Tony looked him straight in the eyes. "Never," he said simply, before turning to Gibbs. "On three, Boss. One… two…"

They never made it to three.