Disclaimer : Still own nothing. Just having fun.
Author's Note : Thanks to everyone who's left a review. Always good to hear from you guys.
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10:08pm – Amelia's Diner – Shaw, Washington, DC –
Tucked in a dark booth at the back of a nearly deserted diner, Tony drums his fingers on the faded white linoleum while he waits for his handler to arrive for the emergency meet. When a tired-eyed waitress silently places a glass of water by his hand, he nods his thanks. She wretches the order pad from her stained apron, but he gestures to the pair of menus on the tabletop. With an agitated eye roll, she vanishes, and he sinks deeper into the thin padding beneath him. Inhaling raggedly, he lets his fingertips glide over the condensation that forms on the water glass.
When a tiny bell on the front door echoes, Tony swivels on the off chance that Schaller might not notice him all the way in the back. But it's only a group of intoxicated college students, looking for a quick bite before a big night on the town. As their raucous laughter breaks the silence, he shifts his weight, trying not to revisit the evening's previous events.
Despite his best efforts, he fails.
The meeting went exactly as Tony planned. In fact, it went better than he even expected. His explanation got him the face time with Carreras while their personal history secured him his original position with the Angel Caido. Everything was great until he saw those girls in the warehouse.
Even though I knew about the trafficking, I never expected to see their faces.
Bile rises in his throat and he grabs the water, trying to force it back down. The glass comes up empty before he can quell his stomach. He rakes a hand through his hair, knowing there's nothing he can do to help them right now since he doesn't even know where they're being held. When he left the warehouse, he offered to call a cab so Hector wouldn't have to stop watching the game to drive him home. Of course Carreras, being a gentleman, insisted on the door-to-door service of his henchman-cum-chauffer. If it hadn't been for the hood on the return trip, Tony's certain that he'd have a side street, some sort of building or even a strange looking lamp-post that Tim could use to determine the hideout's location.
But I didn't see anything, so I have nothing.
He sighs loudly, checking the time. Sinking deeper into the seat, his fingers resume their drumming on the worn tabletop. When the waitress does another stalk past his booth, he smiles apologetically and reaches for a menu. While he stares at the words without reading them, she goes to check on the inebriated group that whoops for her attention.
Unable to stop himself, Tony thinks about the terrified expressions on the teenagers' young faces again. No matter how hard he tries to understand Carreras' venture to market the girls as a commodity, he just can't imagine how anyone, even the dealer, could find that acceptable. Even when Tony watched Carreras annihilate rival cartel members to court their customers in Baltimore, he could try to understand the situation.
But to sell these girls like a product? He can't fathom it at all.
Maybe Carreras finally rotted to the core…
Tony blinks, surprised to see Schaller's acerbic face on the opposite side of the booth. Assessing the agent's brown suit in an identically unflattering cut as the last one, Tony debates about whether he should slip his tailor's card into the next report.
"Were you followed?" Schaller whispers tensely, glancing over his shoulder when the college students cheer as their food arrives.
"I made sure that I wasn't."
"Alright then, good. What's with the emergency meet? It's a bit unorthodox to - "
When a low cough interrupts their conversation, Tony glances up to find the waitress looming at the edge of the table. Pen poised against her pad, she narrows her eyes at the agents. Schaller gathers his menu off the table, quickly flipping through the pages.
"Uh… I'll take the eggs, sunny side up, white toast, no hashbrowns, coffee."
"Pancakes, extra syrup and a glass of milk," Tony says with a grin.
As soon as she's done collecting their menus, she flashes a buck-toothed smile and disappears.
"Agent DiNozzo, what's –"
"Carreras has been busy lately. I'm not sure exactly what he's doing, but I saw the girls. There's eight of them, can't be older than the girl NCIS found a few weeks ago. I think it's time to shut him down."
Schaller studies Tony's solemn expression, nodding slowly while he listens.
"That's good. Did you get a chance to talk to any of the girls?"
"Uh, not really. Sorta awkward to ask them what's up when I'm supposed to be the guy pimping them out, dontcha think?"
"Guess so." Schaller shrugs. "Do you know where they are?"
Pressing his lips together, Tony watches the other agent stop writing on his note pad.
"I don't know. When they took me to the warehouse, I wore a hood. Thought we were somewhere in Capitol Hill, but it didn't look like anywhere I've ever been. Wherever it was, it was quiet with lots of old industrial buildings. So I'm thinking maybe they might actually be in Southwest."
"Can you remember anything about the location?"
"The warehouse was brick and we were in an alley with graffiti. Lime green and hot pink gang signs." Tony closes his eyes, desperate to recount any fleeting detail that could lead him back there. When he can't recall anything else, he shakes his head.
"Do you have anything to tie Carreras to the trafficking? Any recordings? Any tapes? Conversations?"
"Well, he mentioned an undercover agent that he 'took care of' a few months back. That couldn't be –"
"Veera Colvin's step-son? His name's Conner. Mighta been him. He was a nice kid, a little too gutsy for his own good." Schaller makes a notation on his pad. "Did Carreras say where he dropped the body? Or anything else about him?"
Tony decides not to say that Carreras likened Conner Colvin to a roach.
Schaller's lips pull into a tight line. "You got anything else?"
When Tony drops his gaze to the table, Schaller flips his pad closed with a resounding finality.
"You know I can't mobilize a team without irrefutable proof. You know what irrefutable means, right?" He waits until Tony nods. "We need you to find that smoking gun to take Carreras down. Unfortunately, I can't do anything without it."
"What about the girls?"
Concern washes over Schaller's bitter face before he shrugs it away.
"You remember what happened with Losko, don't you? If we move in now, we will save those girls. But what about the ones already en route, and what about those you don't even know about yet? If you want to save them all and stop Carreras, it'll take time. You need to be patient…we both do."
A tense silence settles over the pair as Tony mulls over the words. Before he knows what to say, the waitress places his pancakes and two containers of syrup on the table.
"That enough for ya, hun?" She grins broadly, obviously trying to earn herself a decent tip.
"More than enough." He nods, watching Schaller dig into his eggs as she vanishes. "You got kids, Jamie?"
"Yeah, two girls and a boy. Why?"
"You don't think those girls are somebody's daughters?"
When their eyes meet, the color drains from Schaller's cheeks. He drops his eyes to his eggs, face contorting in revulsion as his fork clinks against the table. While he slides out of the booth, he throws a few wadded bills next to his plate. Before he leaves, Schaller leans in, close enough for Tony to smell the eggs on his breath.
"Next check-in is within 72 hours, got it?"
"Loud and clear."
Schaller squeezes Tony's shoulder hard. "Bring me proof and we move."
"On it."
Tony leans out of the booth, watching the billowing trench retreat through the diner. When the tiny bell reverberates, the dark street swallows Schaller. Turning back to his dinner, he drowns his pancakes with enough syrup to make them float. Before he bothers to eat, he pushes his hand into his pocket, running his fingers over the cell Gibbs gave him for an emergency.
The boss would move heaven and hell to save those girls.
Sighing quietly, Tony accepts that Schaller might actually be right about their current situation. It isn't only about those girls, but also those that will come after. His fingers move away from the phone and he turns his attention to the pancakes that disintegrate in their sticky immersion.
Enrico Carreras will be stopped and for that, I need fuel.
Without a second thought, he digs in.
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11:39pm – Forensics Lab – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –
Bounding through her lab, Abby Scuito's head moves in time to her music. She carefully checks on Major Mass Spec. Satisfied that he'll be able to endure the long night without her, she treats her computers to the careful inspection that she does whenever she leaves for the night. Once she's sure that everyone will be comfortable in her absence, she doubles back to her inner office to collect her report from the printer. Before she reaches it, her screen saver grabs her attention. Enthralled by the pictures of her team that scroll across the monitor, she leans against the door frame and sighs.
A shot of Tony with Bert blurs into one of Ziva at the helm of Major Mass Spec and finally fades into a picture of a shocked Tim by the lab freezer. When an image from the annual holiday party of her three Musketeers grinning at the camera with a humorless Gibbs lurking in the background materializes, she grins broadly.
That night, Ziva discovered Jell-O shots.
I'm just glad we weren't there when she woke up the next morning…though it was pretty spiffy to see how she carries all of her back-up weapons.
Her breath hitches and she smiles sorrowfully when an artsy shot of Bert that she took during equipment calibration appears. Next, a photo of the entire team with Palmer and Ducky from her birthday party scrolls across her screen. She turns away and flicks off the lights. Report completely forgotten, she heads out of her office and into the main lab. On her way to the door, she feels tension bubble in her stomach so she checks on Major Mass Spec, just one more time. Figuring that he'll need the company, she scoops Bert from his lab stool and drops him onto the top of the lonesome machine.
"Good job today, everyone. I'm impressed with the work. Let's keep it up! We'll catch some more bad guys tomorrow! Bert's in charge until I get back," she says, hitting the button that kills her stereo.
The silence is deafening. She turns the lights off and enters the hallway. When the lab door hisses closed behind her, Abby lets out a quiet exhale. Just as she scoops her keys out of her purse, she hears the ding of the elevator down the hall.
"Abs!" Gibbs hustles out, Caf-Pow in hand. When he reaches her, he quickly evaluates her miniskirt with its extremely dangerous hemline and savagely low-cut top. "Early night?"
"Gibbs, it's almost midnight. I've got a date." He raises his eyebrows, nodding at the lab. "Really? You guys got another case already? What is with these Navy guys anyway? Are they all like nuts or something? Do you think there's something in the water on those ships that makes them go crazy and want to kill each other? Maybe we should take some samples...But say, Gibbs, what's the life expectancy for a petty officer these days? They really need to tell new recruits that because it's not fair for them not to know they'll get murdered before they even get promoted…"
"Don't know," Gibbs shrugs, tailing her inside as the lights flicker back on.
On their way back to her inner office, Abby snatches her remote from the lab bench. With one smash of a button, the dull thud of her music resonates through the lab, creating a barely perceptible shake to the glass divider. When she drops into her chair, she grabs her report off the printer and passes it to Gibbs. As he leafs through her findings, her brow knits in thought.
"But wait, McGee said you guys arrested the guy who killed Dukakis?"
"Yeah, he just confessed," Gibbs replies, not looking up from her report.
"Too bad he wasn't smart enough to figure out that blackmail only works if you don't kill the guy who's paying you. But it's great you solved the case." She grins, hoisting her purse off her desk. Barely getting it over her shoulder, she drops back into her chair, the little color under her thick foundation draining away. "It's Tony, isn't it? Did he… Is he…He said everything would be fine. He said - he promised that it would be, Gibbs. That means everything's supposed to be fine. What happened?"
Her panicked eyes meet Gibbs', the first hints of tears gracing them.
"Nothing's wrong, Abs. Tony's fine, he's just not here," he says, staring intently at the forensics reports while Abby tries to study his unreadable face.
"Then what – "
When the picture from the Christmas party floats over her monitor again, Abby loses her voice. Before she can stop herself, she jiggles the mouse to make it disappear. She can't bear to look at their smiling faces anymore. Without her team together, the world just isn't right.
"Think you can get into his old precinct's database to get the case file from his first undercover assignment?"
"Well, maybe…and that's a big maybe, Gibbs. For starters, it depends on whether or not they're computerized. Some of these police departments are like dinosaurs, everything on typewriters and – " She stops when she notices the file folder in Gibbs' hands. Her lips curl into an awkward grin. "Then it has to be online…and I'll need a way to get on their server. Even that's a bit of a long shot. For all I know, it's in a box stuffed in some dark and dusty basement somewhere. Speaking of dark and dusty, you know how my evidence garage gets all icky if I don't clean it regularly…can I get some probies to– "
"Abs."
"Okay, fine, I'll clean it next weekend. But why not ask McGee? He's some sorta computer ninja, you'll get that file so much faster."
"Colvin spooked him," Gibbs admits, slouching against the computer table.
"Colvin? Is that the dragon lady that sent Tony back into the cartel and threatened my – " Gibbs' nod cuts her off. When he gestures to the computer, she grins, saluting him. "Then aye, aye, Gibbs, I'm your woman. What exactly are we looking for?"
"Don't know yet, Abs."
"So you'll know it when you see it? Got it. Want me to dig up some good stuff on the dragon lady while I'm at it?"
The silent kiss to Abby's cheek gives her the answer. With her attention fixated on her computer, she gives another salute. He passes her the stereo remote and she switches to the speaker in her lab. After she changes to a song that utilizes the harmonic capabilities of chainsaws, Abby allows the thump of the music pound through her, filling her with an overwhelming serenity. She feels Gibbs drift away before returning to place Bert by her arm. Even though Major Mass Spec might get lonely, she figures that her presence in the lab should be enough.
Already launching her internet connection, Abby sets up for her impending battle. Another soft kiss to the top of her head is all she gets before Gibbs is gone for good. While she researches the date for Tony's original undercover assignment, she inhales deeply, catching the scent of a fruit medley. Her gaze whips to the CafPow that rests on the edge of the desk. Her lips are around the straw before it's even in her hands, pulling a sip that sounds like a deep breath. She shudders with pleasure as the flavor devours her taste buds. By the time she turns back to her work, the container's nearly empty.
Somewhere on the other side of Washington, a young man that Gibbs would never like waits for Abby. The strobe lights in the poorly-lit bar streak across the ceiling as the thump of the music pounds through his brain. As the hours pass, an ashtray fills with his nervous habit and the tabletop in front of him becomes the final resting place for his empty beer bottles.
When the music cuts out and the house lights rise, chasing away the intensity of the night, he finally accepts that Abby isn't coming…