Disclaimer : Still own nothing. Just having fun.
Author's Note : Really happy to see all the alerts on the story. Also, many thanks on the reviews.
Hope you guys are enjoying this.
-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-
6:15pm – Forensics Lab – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –
As the images of fingerprints in her search flash across the computer monitor, Abby grabs a quick sip from the CafPow on the lab bench. When the uncommonly warm liquid assaults her tongue, she makes a face, figuring she needs to devise a way to cool it down. She glances to the refrigerator, deciding it's a tad too far away. Instead, she looks to the pile of evidence from the Morales murder strewn across the table.
I'll get there as soon as I get a minute…
Her Plasticized Death CD restarts, the thumping refrain of the introductory song booming. Grabbing the remote, she switches to something a bit mellower that doesn't shake her test tubes too hard. When the screen flashes with a hit on the first print, she cheers...until Tony's personnel photo appears in the corner adjacent to the partial index print.
"I know that one's Tony's print….you already told me that earlier. You're supposed to be figuring out who belongs to the other one. I need a match on that partial thumb print from the clip, not the one from the barrel," she bemoans, launching another search with corrected parameters.
Abby grabs Bert off his stool, pulling him into a tight hug. He farts his sympathies.
Deciding the computer might need to work in peace, Abby turns to the table. Her eyes dart over the evidence bags still strewn about haphazardly from her earlier frenzy to compile the data before the FBI could turn up to reclaim their property. When she sees the log on top of the pile, she tries to figure out a way that to maintain the chain of evidence while still being secretive.
Maybe she should whip up some ink that vanishes once she clears Tony's name…
Bert finds his way to the corner, overseeing her progress as she catalogues the objects in terms of their ability to convict Tony of murder.
The Beretta 92FS with his fingerprint on the barrel is the most damning. Even though there are also unidentified partials on the grip and the clip, it still isn't good for Tony's print to be among them. Abby places two spent 9mm shell casings next to the weapon. Her ballistics confirms the FBI lab findings that this is the gun that killed Morales. Four strands of light brown hair plucked from the victim's clothes are next. Devoid of any follicles, DNA comparison is impossible so the only link to Tony is the common coloration. Her last piece of evidence is Morales' shirt, covered in type O- and A+ blood. While the victim's type is the former, the killer shares the latter with the senior agent.
So does 35% of the population.
Abby reaches for the CafPow, absently chewing the straw as she mulls over the evidence.
"I can't believe they actually think Tony killed that guy," she says, meeting Bert's stare. "Come on, you can't think that. I mean, yes, the evidence shows that he might've had something to do with it, but all this tells us for sure is that Tony touched that gun at some point in time. Yeah, okay, I know the blood type and the hair color match his. But it's circumstantial at best."
Pulling a long drink, she narrows her eyes at the stuffed hippo.
"I don't know how you can agree with them, Bert. This is Tony you're talking about. The leader of my three musketeers, special agent extraordinaire, Gibbs' right hand man, his first mate, his side-kick, his…" Her voice trails off. "Okay, I can't come up with another one right now, but you and I both know the FBI's wrong about this. I bet you a CafPow that he touched someone else's gun and that someone else killed Morales."
She squares off with the plush toy, the dull thud of her music resounding through the lab. She whacks her fist against Bert's back, his fart barely audible.
"Glad you finally see things my way."
When a loud beeping pleads for her attention, she swivels towards her computer. The fingerprint search closes out, leaving Tony's picture fixed in the bottom corner of the screen. Abby starts to make a face until three hits pop up from the national, unsolved crime database. Biting her lower lip, she scrolls through a report from Baltimore PD involving an identified Caucasian male found in late July with twin 9mm bullets through his heart. After she quickly compares the fingerprints from the scenes, she starts to cheer wildly, pumping her hands over his head.
"Told you so," she says, sticking her tongue out at Bert.
She glances through the other murders, one from Philadelphia in 2005 and another from Baltimore in January with nearly identical MO's. Grabbing her phone, she punches in the contact number for the detective of the cases in Baltimore. Since Gibbs and Ziva need to focus all their attention to bring Tim and Tony back safe, Abby decides that she and Bert will run down this lead. Once she has the other cities' evidence, she can confirm forensics and link the cases before her team even returns.
Then Gibbs'll bring me someone to match it to.
While the phone on the other end rings, a new song pumps through the lab and she swings her hips. She grabs the CafPow, pulling a hot sip before she slams it in front of Bert.
"You owe me a new one. Make sure it's cold this time."
-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-
6:38pm –Somewhere Near the Navy Yard – Washington, DC –
Slowly inhaling, Tony leans back against the leather sofa in the warehouse's main room. He fidgets, crossing and uncrossing his legs, as his fingers trace the cool stitching of the seat cushion. His attention fixates on the television for a brief second. While the men decided on a melodramatic Spanish soap opera today, he doesn't understand how they can actually watch it. Although it doesn't matter what's on…as long it keeps them distracted.
Pressing his lips together, he checks on the small group to ensure that they're all sufficiently enthralled by Maribel and Luis' love life. Tony's eyes drop back to the cell phone that peeks out of his couch mate's pocket. He shifts his weight towards the man, hand outstretched as he fakes a yawn. Just when he goes for the cell, the man utters a soft curse, leaning forward in his seat.
Heart thudding in his chest, Tony glances over the group, surprised by the murderous stares fixed on the television. When he sees Luis and Maribel locked in a passionate embrace on screen, he rolls his eyes, finally snatching the phone. He sneaks it into his sleeve.
I guess they don't like her new boyfriend.
"So do you guys really think Maribel will stay with Luis this time?" Tony grins, slightly unsettled when the angry glares refocus on him. "Okay, okay, so maybe she should settle down with Jose. Or was it Carlos? Or Alejandro? No wait, I think that was last week."
"We go over this freakin' every day, man." His couch mate sighs, scrubbing his hand over his face.
"I know, I know. But she's a strong woman. Does she really even need a man in her life?"
There's a collective grumble before someone yells, "Maribel should be with Jorge," and an active, angry discussion erupts between the men.
Tony hops to his feet, adding his two cents on the way out: "I think she should be with Luis."
Someone shouts a curse after him as he retreats to the adjoining room. The wind that sneaks through the broken windows forces the door closed, its thud grating Tony's already frayed nerves. He slides the phone from his sleeve and zips his jacket to his throat while he waits for it to turn on. The flash of a nearly dead battery makes him cringe, but it only needs to work for one call…just one call.
Before he even dials Gibbs' area code, an approaching commotion grabs his attention.
Heart in his throat, Tony creeps to the doorway, pushing it open just enough to peer into the hallway that leads to Carreras' office. Further up, he can make out the sight of two figures forcing another one forward in the darkness. When they draw closer, his heart drops to his stomach.
Hector and another one of Carreras' henchmen march a blindfolded and handcuffed Tim forward.
"Where are you taking me?" Tim yells, the terror in his voice tightening Tony's chest.
Reaching for the Glock tucked at the small of his back, he lopes towards the trio, uncertain how the situation will play out. He isn't ready for a potential gunfight. Eight thugs against one armed federal agent aren't particularly favorable odds, especially when the main objective is to protect his partner.
While he might be a betting man, he just isn't ready to gamble with Tim's life.
Sidling up to the group, Tony grins as nonchalantly as he can. "What's going on?"
Tim relaxes slightly in between the men holding him.
"Dunno, just followin' orders," Hector shrugs, trying to slide past Tony.
Carreras emerges from the passage, features dark as he talks into his phone. Tony's grip tenses on his Glock as he steps towards Tim, readying for what might come. Heart pounding in his chest, his eyes dart from Dario and Hector's bored faces to Carreras' eyes that burn like fire.
"Yo, Rico, what's goin' on?"
"I was on my way to find you and the others. The situation's changed back in Baltimore. One of my shipments got 'lost' and I need to clean up the mess. Keep an eye on things here for me."
By the way Carreras talks, Tony figures that it's about much more than a lost package.
"And what about the fed?"
"Might as well kill two birds with one stone."
Carreras barrels forward towards the door, waving his henchmen to follow. Just as Tony steps in their way, Tim wrenches his body sideways, out of Hector's grip, and slams full-force into Dario. Knocked off-kilter, the pair hits the concrete floor with a sickening crack and a dull thud. Hector's fist to Tim's face ends whatever fight he had left, and he drops limply to the ground.
Sighing quietly, Tony runs his hand over his forehead.
Come on McGee, that was a probie move.
Scrambling to his feet, Dario stares wide-eyed at his left wrist. He flexes his fingers, wincing at the motion. Under Tony's gaze, the appendage turns a revolting shade of purple and begins to swell.
"I think that bastard just broke my wrist."
Rolling his eyes exasperatedly, Carreras points to Tony - "You're coming. Dario, stay here." – as he hustles out of the room.
"You okay, man?" Hector asks.
Narrowing his eyes at Tim's unconscious form, Dario reels his leg back and slams it into the junior agent's stomach. Tim moans quietly, rolling onto his side as he curls into himself. When Dario winds up again, Tony grabs his shoulder, yanking him away.
"You let Rico handle the fed, got it?"
"Fine," Dario growls, hawking a wad of spit in Tim's direction before storming out into the main room.
Hector looks down at Tim and frowns deeply. "Guess we gotta carry him, huh?"
Tony nods. "Just give me a minute? I forgot something in the office."
Darting into the hallway that leads to Carreras' office, Tony quickly retrieves the cell from his pocket. Dialing Gibbs' number, he holds his breath at the staccato of the ring tone. His eyes jump from the area where the girls are being held to where Hector just moved Tim.
"Gibbs."
"Boss, its DiNozzo. Trace this phone."
"Tony, where's - "
"Carreras is taking him to Baltimore and I'm going too. I'll contact you when I can."
There's a tense inhale. "Where are you now?"
"In a warehouse near Buzzard Point. The girls are here."
"Just stay put. We're on our way."
Hector's head suddenly pops in the door frame, making Tony slide the phone into his pocket.
"Come on, man, we gotta go."
"Right behind ya."
Tony crouches to fumble with his boot as Hector turns around to check on Tim's unmoving body. Positioning the phone by the wall, he hopes that no one finds it before Gibbs arrives.