(~~~~)
Tony had seen this movie once, and remembered it being a mediocre flick at best. Formulaic movie about an assistant turning on his boss.
Kevin Spacey, he recalled. And while the movie was okay at best, there was one line he remembered with startling clarity:
"This is the only way you can hope to survive, because life is not a movie. Everyone lies, good guys lose, and sometimes love does not conquer all."
Well, that may have been the case, but he was going to try his damndest to change it. Waters blurred on who exactly were the good and bad guys, and whether love really entered into it, but maybe it was supposed to be that way.
Damn uphill, gotta keep climbing.
Oh, how Tony wishes it could have been a blur after that call.
How fucking fantastic would it have been to just sink into the mindlessness.
All his movies describe their lives being a blur after news like this, and Tony still curses whatever sadistic God decided to make his life so radically different.
No, he remembers in vivid detail. The stricken look on Gibbs' face, the way Ziva's immediately snapped into her "federal agent" mode, the wide-eyed panic on McGoogle's face. The never ending ringing of both Ducky and Palmer's phones. The splintering wood of the stairs' railing as he raced down them on the heels his boss. The seemingly insurmountable length of the hallway leading to the morgue.
The empty echoes of their collective feet in the morgue. And the absolute, dead silence of the basement when nobody was to be found.
(~~~~)
Tony had memorized the look on Gibbs' face by now. The first place he had gone after finding the morgue empty was to Abby's lab. Finding her unharmed, he immediately wrapped an arm around her and kissed her forehead.
The scientist had looked more than a little shocked at the voluntary show of affection, but as she appraised the look on Gibbs' face, her amused expression dropped.
"Gibbs," she breathed, her eyes widening. "What happened?"
"Ducky," Gibbs replied simply.
"Ducky?" Abby's brow furrowed in confusion. "He and Palmer went to Ducky's for dinner. Why? Gibbs, what happened?"
Gibbs looked at Abby critically. "They went to his place?"
Off her nod, he spun to face the team. "Car. Now."
And then Tony could only follow them, with Abby clamouring around their heels, still utterly confused.
(~~~~)
You know how when you see a raging fire in the movies? Harry Potter, maybe? The place burns in a blaze reflected to the ends of the country, the ashes smoulder for two, maybe three seconds, and that's it. (You're looking for a cleverly hidden metaphor in this, aren't you? Thought so).
The smoking pile of ashes that was once Ducky's foyer was still contributing a very healthy amount of pollution, and looked like it had been for quite awhile. As for the rest of the house, well, the nice fireman Tony had been chatted with after the fact seemed to think it'd recover with some massive plastic surgery (what? It's just easier to think in terms of...enhancements).
And oh, Tony always forgets to mention this part. As they waded into the rubble, a soft moan from the corner caught the always-sharp ears of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs.
Upon further inspection, they found it came from a face-down person in what probably used to be an alcove. A person with a very familiar-looking pair of round glasses.
And who happened to be surrounded by far, far too much blood.
(~~~~)
"Palmer," Ziva called gently. She pressed two fingers to the Autopsy Gremlin's neck, relief written all over her face when she found a pulse.
"Palmer," she tried again. This time, the young man's head lifted barely.
"Ziiii..." he slurred, and Ziva nodded encouragingly.
"Yes, Palmer, it's Ziva. And Gibbs and everyone else are here."
The head lifted a little more and Ziva -probably recognizing he shouldn't be moving too much until the paramedics got to him – stroked Jimmy's hair soothingly.
"Stay down, Palmer. Can you tell us who did this to you?"
"Was Tony's...Sheila?"
"Shayla," Tony heard himself whispering, dread making his heart drop into his stomach.
Gibbs and McGee moved gingerly around Palmer. Tony watched his boss' brow furrow as he inspected the young man from top to bottom.
"No bleeding wounds, DiNozzo. Blood's not his."
Tony swallowed around the Texas-sized lump in his throat. "There's gotta be at least two litres there. If it's not his, whose is it? Not..."
Ziva carefully schooled her face into a non-reaction, still stroking Palmer's hair as he leaned into the touch.
"Palmer," she said soothingly. "Where is Ducky?"
Palmer rotated his head as best he could, and cast Ziva a look as if the answer should be perfectly obvious.
"Gone."
(~~~~)
After Palmer had been rushed to the hospital (aside from being knocked on the head, it was clear the young man remembered nothing), the team was left with nothing, and to say Tony's head was spinning would be like saying Brosnan was the best Bond.
He assumed he caught a ride with the team back to the bullpen, though he really couldn't be sure. He did recall vividly ordering Ziva to leave him alone (she was doing that creepy mother-hen thing again), climbing into his car, and driving the deserted drive-in movie theatre.
Once there, he killed the engine, and finally let the anger, the absolute rage wash over him.
"Bitch," he spat under his breath. He was nothing, granted, but now she was making him drag his friends, his family into this. That much blood...if it wasn't Palmer's...then it dawned on him, and he fell forward with such force that his head smacked with a crack into his steering wheel.
Ducky was a bargaining chip.
She'd called, so she'd have to know they'd look for him. Leaving Palmer there, she knew Ducky was her ticket out, so in all likelihood, he was mostly unharmed. That would mean...
She would have had to bleed someone.
A wave of nausea gripped Tony. Bitch. Now dragging innocents in.
"Way to fucking go, DiNozzo," he growled. "Really goddamn smart idea to bring home a maniac. Now she's killing your friends and it's your fucking fault."
And that was it. This was between him and Shayla, Tony knew. As such, she would have taken Ducky to a place that was exclusive to her and Tony. And luckily, he knew where that was.
And no, before you ask. He didn't call for backup, didn't call Gibbs, didn't even consider what a fucking stupid idea this was. He just put his car in gear, and headed back. This was where it all started; of course it had to be where it ended.
So when he got the call ("she's...so much blood. I found her like this, you have to come, Tony, she's so pale...), it only spurred him on.
Tony really hopes you're ready. That's all he can say.