Gibbs felt the day drag on after what had happened with Tony that morning.
He sighed heavily, and tossed the sanding block he was holding down on the worktable in disgust.
Usually working with his hands gave him some zen. A way to let his mind turn things over indirectly, in a more peripheral way. A less...personally affecting way.
But it wasn't working this time.
He kept seeing Tony's face…the disappointment in his eyes after Gibbs had pushed him away in the doorway earlier.
He leaned against the worktable, staring off at nothing. Trying to identify and separate out the mélange of emotions tangled up inside. Part of him felt a little relieved that maybe Tony was so angry he would drop this…whatever it was. Relationship? But…that thought now left him sad. And confused. But…he was Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Master of control. He was not used to doing confused.
He snorted at himself.
"Completely out of control," he said softly, running his hand through his hair.
He wondered what Mike Franks would say about this one.
"So…you're a cocksucker now Gunny? Well, they pay taxes… shoot guns n' defend our country too, jus' like every damnedbody else. Might wanna keep that one t'yourself, tho for a little while, Probie, at least start wearin' cologne for a few weeks before you break the news…" he could hear Mike growling out those words, and laughed.
He suddenly pinched the bridge of his nose, to relieve some of the tension headache he was developing. "I dunno' if I can do it, Mike," he said out loud.
"Aw, Hell, Gunny. Since when you really give a damn what anybody thinks?"
"True…" he said, going to his shelf and pouring himself two fingers of bourbon. "But…it's not what everybody else thinks, is it? It's what I think…of myself."
And that was the crux of it.
This wasn't who Gibbs had ever seen himself as. He'd been through Hell and back, between leaving Stillwater, the Marines, losing Shannon and Kelly…and also everything at NCIS... losing Jen…and Kate. But, he always knew who he was. Even when he suffered the head injury and had memory loss. He was still a hard ass Marine. Most definitely straight.
Not…bi? Was he? Or maybe…there was truth to what Ducky said, and it's the person you fall in love with.
Fall in love with?
"Jesus," he murmured and drank down both fingers in one shot.
He still didn't have a clue what to do.
But he did know he couldn't leave it…he needed to talk to Tony…be with him. See his eyes and his smile, smell that crazy cookie scent that came off his skin and hair. Over the years, working with Tony, he knew just how smart and talented he was. And how he had the heart of a lion. Would go up against anything to protect Gibbs and the team. Anything.
Gibbs pulled out his cell phone from his sweatshirt, and hit the speed dial 3 for Tony.
It rang a full four times, and Gibbs frowned when he got sent to voicemail.
He hung up. His eyes roamed around the basement, as he thought about how he'd found Tony in such a devastated state after discovering Gibbs had read the book.
A twinge of real worry twisted in his gut.
Pocketing the cell again, he turned and headed up the stairs.
When Gibbs pulled up across the street from Tony's building, he got a very bad feeling.
Without knowing why, exactly. But that's how it always went.
As he crossed the street, he caught sight of Tony's car back in the garage. He decided to try and call him once more, before heading up to his apartment.
Once it connected, he heard a phone ringing somewhere outside, faintly echoing.
His pulse rate picked up.
It was a phone, ringing from somewhere in the garage.
Gibbs let it ring, jogging over to Tony's car, where he saw, with alarm, Tony's cell, wallet, keys, and gun just lying on the front seat.
And the car door was unlocked.
Tony would never do this.
Breathing a bit more heavily, Gibbs backed up, careful not to disturb anything, and looked around the car.
Just behind the left rear tire he saw it. An empty hypodermic.
"Tony…" Gibbs felt sick.
Gibbs ran into the building, and up to Tony's apartment, letting himself in with his key, gun drawn.
But it was silent, and undisturbed.
He cleared the rooms, seeing no evidence Tony had even made it inside today.
With a slight tremor in his hand, he pulled his cell again, and hit speed dial 4.
"Boss? We got a case?" McGee answered on the second ring.
Gibbs' voice was tight, as he said, "Call Ziva. Get to Tony's with your kits as soon as you can…"
"T-Tony's? Boss, what happened?" McGee's tone was filled with worry.
"Someone has him…someone took Tony," he said. And when I find him, he'd better be okay, or who ever took him is gonna' wish they were never born.
Sick with worry.
All of them had the same pained expression in their eyes, as they processed the scene, explored every inch of the car and it's trunk, and took all Tony's things and the hypodermic back to the yard in evidence bags.
Gibbs' jaw muscles clenched, as he thought about Tony, and how things had been left between them. He walked into Abby's lab, forgetting the usual Caf-Pow. He knew that she wouldn't care this time.
She was paler even than usual, nervously scratching at her desk in front of her computer. She caught Gibbs coming in through her rear-view mirror.
As he approached her, he saw the pained look on her face.
"Gibbs," she breathed. "Is there-"
"No," he said, "no word on anything yet."
She looked around for just a flash, forlornly. She then said slowly, "The…hypodermic…was filled, w-with ketamine, and lesser amounts of detomidine and thiopental."
Gibbs let out an angry puff of air. "Horse tranquilizer."
Abby wrung her hands a little nervously. "In that combination ,yes."
Gibbs shook his head, sadly. Wherever Tony was, he wasn't likely feeling to well. And maybe even tripping.
"Any prints on it? Or Tony's things?" he asked hopefully.
She shook he head sadly. "No. I think they were wearing gloves."
He sighed. "Thanks Abbs." And then he turned to leave.
"Gibbs," she called after him.
He turned to see her, just standing there, trembling, with her eyes filling up with water.
He walked over to her as she suddenly hugged him, sniffling. She couldn't even speak. Abby speechless, was...practically cataclysmic.
Gibbs gave her a squeeze, and kissed the top of her head, taking comfort for himself in the embrace as well. "We'll find him," he murmured. "I promise."
When he got back to the bullpen, McGee and Ziva were engrossed in watching video footage. The garage at Tony's building had one video camera, and unfortunately, it was not pointed right at the spot where Tony's car was parked.
"What have you got?" Gibbs asked immediately, as they turned to him.
"We played back the video of all the cars that came in and out of the garage today," McGee began.
"All the cars belonged to tenants," Ziva said intently, "except for two."
"One was this Honda," McGee clicked the controller, showing the stop motion of a blue Honda Civic. "And it belonged to a relative of one of the tenants. The other, was this one."
McGee brought up a white Chevy Express Cargo van.
"Gibbs, the van entered the garage at 10:44. And then-" Ziva said, but Gibbs finished for her.
"And then Tony came home." Gibbs watched the image of Tony's car entering the garage in the grainy slow motion. "And not long after…"
"Yeah, Boss," McGee said. "Here it is leaving."
"I do not understand," Ziva bit out in frustration. "Tony is a trained Agent. How did this happen?"
Gibbs knew she was just very worried, but guilt ate at him. Tony was distracted. Likely, because of him.
"Plates, McGee?'
"The van plate, 44Y-72L, is registered to a rental company called Redi-Rent, up in Tacoma Park," McGee said.
"I wanna' know who rented that van, McGee," Gibbs said in a deadly tone.
"We have called, but the rental site is closed," said Ziva angrily. "But it is owned by a Phillip Sanchez. He lives in Silver Spring."
"Call him. Now," Gibbs commanded.
With a nod, she went quickly to her desk. McGee and Gibbs listened intently, as Ziva got Sanchez on the line. After a brief exchange, she hung up.
"He will meet us there to look up who rented the van today, because he has no access to the information at home," she said, while gathering her things and donning her jacket.
"McGee, I want you here," Gibbs said, "When we find out who rented that van, I want you to track the bastard."
McGee nodded, understanding, "You got it Boss."
Gibbs turned to leave.
"Boss," McGee said quietly, and Gibbs turned back for a minute to take in the concerned, large green eyes.
"Yeah?"
"He's okay, right? I mean…they would have killed him if they wanted him dead…" McGee swallowed compulsively, seeing the steely expression in Gibbs' eyes.
"He's alive," Gibbs said, feeling it was true. "We'll find him." And with that he turned to catch up with Ziva.
Awareness oozed into him. Or did it? He couldn't tell for sure.
Where was this? Was it a place? Was he still in his body? The sensation of floating gently rippled through his consciousness.
Slowly, he opened his eyes.
It was evening. And he was lying on a bed. Was he at Gibbs' house?
He tried to make his mind focus.
No. It didn't look like Gibbs' place. Or his. He frowned a little to himself, but then, it was so much effort to try to think. He decided it didn't matter where he was at that moment. He was too relaxed to care.
Without reaction, he took stock of himself, looking down at his own body, in tee shirt and jeans…the same ones he had on at Gibbs'.
But there was something different about the outfit.
His feet were bare.
Wait…no. That wasn't it.
It was the rope. Tied around his wrists, as his eyes drifted up to look at them, to a wrought iron headboard. What …why were they like that?
He looked back down, and it seemed his ankles shared the same predicament. His legs were spread out on the bed, ankles tied to the metal corner posts.
He snorted softly. This was just silly.
How was he going to get out of bed if he was tied to it?
He blinked a little sleepily, and heard the noise of someone opening the door to the very non-descript room.
A man stepped in.
Tony tried to focus on his face., which was partially hidden by a simple black party mask. The mask gave the man a sinister look...he smiled at Tony with glee. It made him feel glimmer of fear. Fear he would not allow himself to show.
"Very Vincent Price," Tony breathed out slowly, almost slurring.
The man tilted his head and chuckled.
He was tall, with short, wavy blonde hair and blue eyes. A deeper blue than Gibbs'.
Something about that thought sobered him a bit more, as the man stood next to the bed, and put a hand on his chest, caressing him.
He shouldn't be touching me…
"You're awake," the man said in a pleased tone. "But I'm not sure you're awake enough for what I have planned." His hand trailed down Tony's stomach, ghosting over his groin and crotch, and then down his thigh.
He was finally, really worried. He struggled to remember how he'd gotten here. But couldn't do it. And he was going in and out of the floaty feeling…
"We're going to have such a good time together. I've been thinking about this…of having you to myself…"
"Don't…" Tony breathed out. "Keep…your…hands offfffme." He felt the man touching him again, but was losing the ability to keep his eyes open.
He was drifting off again…to the place he was before.
Seemingly from far away, he heard the man say, "Just a little while, Tony, and you'll show me…"