Disclaimer : Still own nothing. Just having fun.
Author's Note : Many, many thanks to those who left reviews.
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10:01am – On 295N, Heading Towards Washington, DC –
Pressing the gas pedal deeper, Tony maneuvers the Charger around a tractor trailer on the rain-soaked highway. With the looming clouds threatening another storm, he tries to beat it back to the Navy Yard. When the radio emits a garbled traffic report, Ziva leans forward to change the station to one playing a hip hop song. Shifting back in the seat, she stares at the cars whizzing past.
Tony sighs, thankful for the company who understands the need to decompress after a mission. If Tim were conscious, they would be rehashing the ordeal…again. Mercifully, another dose of meds on the way out of the ED gave Tim another drug-induced nap in the back seat.
Glancing in the rearview, Tony checks on his partner's sleeping form. When Tim moves his head away from the window with a snore, Tony flinches at the bruises on the younger man's cheek.
Ziva snaps her fingers, reminding Tony to watch the road. Up in the distance, the familiar monuments of Washington begin to break through the fog, a welcome sight to the previous night's events.
Tony didn't think he and Tim would live to see them again.
"Tony, you would like to speak, yes?" Ziva lets the silence stretch for a few minutes. "I will listen."
"You sorta have to, Zee-vah. You're in a moving car, it's not like you're going anywhere. Why didn't we head back with Gibbs anyway?"
"I offered to drive back."
"Yeah, I know. I'd like to get back to Washington alive." He laughs. "But why did Gibbs and Fornell head back in the middle of the night?"
She turns her attention to Tony and shrugs. "He only said that he needed to return early."
Tony nods, watching the Washington Monument and Pentagon grow more distinct. Taking the exit for the Navy Yard, he navigates the soggy back streets. When he hits a red light, Ziva grips his arm.
"You are okay, yes?"
"Yeah, I'm fine."
With a nod, she turns to study the pedestrians on the sidewalk. When the light changes, he takes the car up the block, feeling the knots creep into his stomach as the NCIS building draws closer.
It's only a matter of time before I'll need to interview Carreras.
By the time he hits the garage, Tony begins to feel nauseous. He debates about driving past the entrance and heading somewhere to take his teammates out to breakfast. Knowing Gibbs wouldn't approve of a detour, Tony turns the Charger into the garage and to its specified spot. After he kills the engine, he stares at the wheel intensely until Ziva touches his shoulder. Forcing a tight smile, he hands her the keys.
"Mind signing it back in? Security won't take the keys without creds and mine are at my cover's apartment." He waits a beat before adding : "No joy rides."
"You do not need help?" she asks, pointing over her shoulder.
"Nah, I think I can handle a drugged Probie all by myself."
His tense grin widens and Ziva nods slowly. After she climbs out of the car, she slams the door so hard that Tim yelps loudly. Hand against his head, he blinks owlishly as his unfocused eyes dart around.
"Where – where are we?"
"Morning, McSleeping Beauty." Tony turns in the seat to grin at Tim. "We're back at NCIS. Time to go."
Scrambling out of the car, Tony pauses by the back door. With his right arm in his sling, Tim struggles to reach the handle with his left. When the younger man winces at the effort, Tony opens the door for him and pulls him out. Unsteady on his feet, Tim's expression is more confused than usual as he watches Tony retrieve his discharge instructions from the floor.
They head to the elevator, Tony keeping Tim on course.
"Tony, I thought I was going home."
"You will…eventually. We just have a little detour. Abby's going to keep you company until I'm done with Carreras. Then you're bunking at my place for a while."
Tim grimaces.
"Come on, Probie, we both know I have a better movie collection than you."
"No, it's not that." Tim bites his lip. "It's just….you're still going to talk to Carreras?"
There's a long silence, broken only the elevator's arrival.
"If I need to."
"Why not just let the FBI handle it?"
Herding Tim into the car, Tony snorts. Even though he asked himself the same question countless time, he just can't let the FBI flub another investigation when there are still more girls to be found.
Finally seeing Carreras behind bars won't hurt either…
When Tony glances at the way Tim leans against the wall, he decided not to burden his partner with his reasons. Instead, he reaches into his pocket for what should be a welcome distraction. Staring at the phone number scrawled on a prescription pad, Tony hits the emergency button.
The elevator car jerks to a stop, the overhead lights dropping to back-up power.
"Tony, what's going on?"
"So Dr. Sorenson?"
Tim blinks, brow furrowed. "What? Where'd that come from?"
"She was pretty hot, huh?" Tony grins, waggling his eyebrows at the younger man.
"Um, uh, maybe? I really don't remember." When Tim's cheeks flush, Tony laughs. "Okay, okay, fine, I thought she was cute. Are you happy now? Can we just drop it?"
"Actually we all know…even her."
"What?"
"Yeah, you told her."
Covering his eyes with his hand, Tim moans quietly. "I did, didn't I?"
Tony lets him squirm for a moment. "Well, the feeling's apparently mutual. She told me to give you her number. " He passes Tim the paper. "Said to call her before ten since her shift starts at eleven."
"Thanks," Tim replies, pocketing the number.
Nodding, Tony presses the emergency button and the elevator groans to life. When the doors open, a black and white blob hurdles inside. An arm grabs Tony around the neck, yanking him against a soft body. The scent of strawberries tickles his nose.
"Timmy! Tony! You're both okay!" Abby yells, pulling the agents into a tighter bear hug.
Tony coughs, surprised by the amount of pressure she puts on his throat.
"Abby, my arm," Tim whines and she lets him go to hug Tony tighter.
"I'm so glad you're back."
Just when the black spots begin to dot his vision, she releases her death grip on Tony and sets her sight on Tim. When she tackles him into a hug, Tim's features silently contort in pain and Tony cringes in sympathy.
"Timmy! We were so worried!"
"Hey, Abs." Tony sticks his foot in the doors when they start to close.
"Yeah?" She releases Tim and he sags against the wall, forehead slick with sweat. "Are you okay Timmy?"
He backs away, left hand protectively on his shoulder. "Oh yeah, I'm great."
"Good. I got the futon all set up for you since you're supposed to rest today, and I picked up a couple DeCaf-Pows since you can't have caffeine with your meds. If you get bored, I've got..."
"Have fun, Probie." Tony waves to them as he scrambles off the elevator.
The doors glide closed to hide Tim's wide eyes as Abby regales him with their day's itinerary. Fairly certain that Tim'll have more fun than him, Tony lopes to the bullpen to grab his suit so he can head to the Hoover building. Arriving at his desk, he's surprised that nothing's changed. Everything's exactly as he left it…even Gibbs' omnipresent coffee cup.
He checks underneath his keyboard, comforted to find his spitball straw still taped to the underside.
I told McGee he'd never find it.
Wistful smile on his lips, Tony retrieves his spare suit from his locker. His fingers touch the expensive fabric as he sinks into his desk chair. Scrubbing his hand over his face, he wonders whether the past few weeks were actually a dream. The stubble on his chin is a reminder that reality can often be worse than any nightmares. With a sigh, he heads to the bathroom to change.
Once he's back in the familiar fabric, Tony feels more like himself…even if the face in the mirror looks nothing like him. His fingers carefully examine the bruises on his right jaw from a scuffle and the long gash on his forehead from the fight at the warehouse. Glowering, he peels off the butterfly stitches and drops them to the floor. Lips pulling into a sneer, Tony turns away from his reflection.
Straightening his lapel, he buttons his coat. Without another look in the mirror, he heads to the bullpen.
Too distracted by his thoughts, Tony doesn't notice Gibbs until he reaches his desk.
"Something on your mind, DiNozzo?"
"Oh. Hey, boss. Just getting ready to interview Carreras like Colvin asked."
"Already took care of it."
Cocking his head, Tony approaches his boss. "What do you mean?"
"Convinced him to tell us where the rest of the girls are." Gibbs smirks. "Turns out the dirtbag doesn't want to die in a Russian gulag."
"They don't still have those…do they?" The way Gibbs' grin broadens tells Tony that Carreras isn't up to date on his current affairs. "How many more girls were there?"
"Two more groups in Washington, three in Baltimore and a shipment en route. Pretty big enterprise… " Gibbs trails off, pointing to the plasma where a serious-faced Colvin speaks into a microphone on a newscast.
"How many, boss?"
"Thirty nine, plus twelve on their way."
Tony inhales deeply, starting at the bouncy camera footage of Colvin's newscast until the image switches to Carreras' mug shot.
"Where are they now?"
"Buncha different hospitals until ICE can get them all figured out."
"And Carreras?"
"Going away for a long time."
"Too bad it's on American soil."
Gibbs' laugh turns into a growl when Colvin's smug face re-appears on the screen. With a click of the remote, he turns off the program and turns back to his work. Nodding, Tony starts to move to his desk.
"What do you think you're doing?"
"Uh, my reports, boss."
"They can wait."
"But what about the debrief?"
"Fornell'll meet you here at 0800 Monday." When Tony starts to protest, Gibbs stares at him intensely. "Go home and keep an eye on McGee in the meantime."
Tony's swift nod acknowledges his order, and he stops at Tim's desk to grab his overnight bag. With one last glance around the bullpen, he heads to rescue the younger man from Abby's day of fun.
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11:30am – Forensics Lab – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC –
With a fresh cup of coffee in one hand and a Caf-Pow in the other, Gibbs ducks off the elevator. Walking in time with the thump of the music, he heads into the lab to find Abby at her bench. With her back to him, she's engrossed in the fingerprints scrolling across the monitor. When he stumbles, he glances down to find what appears to be a beanbag toss. Perplexed, he eyes a wall of balloons with a few darts buried in the wood underneath.
"Abs?"
"It's my carnival." He cocks his eyebrow. "Since I wasn't allowed to come to Baltimore, I had to keep my mind busy. What else was I supposed to do, Gibbs? I figured McGee and I could play some games while I kept an eye on him. You know, I'd just started kicking his butt at beanbags when Tony came. He kept saying that sling messed up his center of gravity, but I think he might not be very good."
Gibbs nods and places the Caf-Pow on the lab bench to pick up a dart. After turning it over in his hand, he hurls it at the balloon wall, popping two. Attention pulled from the computer, Abby grins broadly.
"Whoa, that's awesome."
He smirks. "So what'd I win?"
Holding one finger up, she darts to her inner office and grabs an object from the desk. When she comes back, she places it on the lab bench. It's an upside down Caf-Pow cup with a goth figurine glued on top. His brow furrows while she frames it with her hands.
"It's a trophy, Gibbs."
He takes a deliberate sip of his coffee. "I can see that."
Her lower lip juts out. "Yeah, Tony didn't want it either. McGee tried to take it, but he didn't earn it. Guess you'll have to settle for second place."
"Whaddya got?"
"Pedro Morales' murderer." Her grin exposes Caf-Pow red teeth. "Well, I don't have him here. The Baltimore Police Department have him in custody at the University of Maryland Medical Center...if the FBI hasn't arrested him yet."
A few clicks of her mouse bring up a picture of a hard-faced Hispanic man with a close-cropped beard. On the side of his neck is the black star of the Angel Caido. Gibbs instantly recognizes him as one of the bleeding men at the raid in Baltimore.
"Meet Hector Roberto Delgado, Gibbs. His partial was on the clip of the gun from Morales' murder. When I got a sample of the blood from Timmy's clothes, I ran it alongside the one from Morales'. Both type A+, probably from him." She jabs her finger at the picture. "While there isn't enough for a DNA match, there's enough evidence to prove that he killed Morales. Plus he was with Timmy, so…"
"Good work," he says, pushing the Caf-Pow towards her.
"But that's not it. I'm running his prints through the open crime database for the Mid-Atlantic. So far, I've gotten hits on ten murders." Abby grins and she opens up an active fingerprint search on the monitor.
"What about that one in Baltimore that matched Conner Colvin's description?"
She gestures to the opposite side of the lab, somewhere between the fridge and her office. "I just got the DNA sample from Metro last night. I'm still waiting on his sample from the FBI so I can confirm his identity. Though based on the bone structure of the corpse and Conner Colvin's personnel photo, I'm fairly sure that they're one in the same. That and DNA is all we really have to go on. The murderer took his fingers and smashed up his teeth so we couldn't do a formal ID through conventional methods. Baltimore won't even let Colvin see him until we confirm that it's him."
Gibbs flinches when he thinks of the fate Tony and Tim narrowly escaped. "That bad?"
"Torture and a couple weeks in a ditch are never good for anyone."
Abby sighs, minimizing her search when a program in the background flashes. Taking a sip of his coffee, Gibbs nods slowly. He waits in the uneasy silence, feeling the thump of her music, while she works through something on screen. Apparently not happy with the results, she restarts the search. Grinning, she picks up a black beanbag off the lab bench to hurl it into the bin that rests several feet away.
Smile creeping onto his face, Gibbs selects one from the pile. Their beanbags hurl across the lab, finally ending with a score of three for her and five for him. She pushes her makeshift trophy at him.
"You got anything on the girl down with Ducky?" he asks instead of taking it.
"Yelena Nikolayova Korovina? Nothing…yet. Only thing I could find on that last name was a type of gun used by the Red Army in World War Two. I really doubt that she's related to the family that designed it. But I've got my people looking into it."
He tilts his head. "Your people?"
"Of course I have people, Gibbs. Why wouldn't I have people?" She scowls at him for a second until she giggles. "But seriously, one of the girls that I graduated with is doing a post-doc at the Maritime State University in Vladivostok. I called her to see if she wouldn't mind helping out." Gibbs looks at her expectantly. "Alice said she'd let me know as soon as she had something."
"Thanks, Abs." He kisses her cheek and starts out of the lab.
"Gibbs." She waits until he returns to simply ask : "Why?"
"Because Yelena deserves to go home."