Chapter Seven

Showtime

"Demir, the women you've released are safe and in our care. They've told us that there are several injured hostages, and that a diplomat has been killed. We'd like to solve this without any further bloodshed, but you need to tell us what it is you want," the FBI negotiator said, his voice echoing around the much-emptier ballroom.

Hamza Demir started and looked around wildly, releasing Gibbs' throat and shoving him backward as he scanned the room. He barked an order to Mustafa in Kurdish, and the other man tentatively inched toward the main ballroom door, the one where the women had just left and a few others had snuck through. He closed it firmly with the barrel of his gun and quickly stepped away.

They were nervous the FBI was going to storm in shooting, which was a very likely scenario. Gibbs would bet that the women who'd just been released hadn't told them anything, much like he doubted the hotel worker they'd apprehended had given up the terrorists' names. Gibbs gut said it was McGee supplying the FBI with the information he'd gained through Tony's rogue earwig. That earwig remained safely tucked away in the crook of Gibbs' sleeve.

He rubbed his neck where it still ached from the tightness of Hamza's grip. This had to end sooner rather than later. Gibbs was pissed it had gone on so long already. He was pissed that DiNozzo had been hurt, and he was pissed that three of the other hostages had been shot, two of them fatally. It had all happened on his watch, and that pissed him off the most.

"What does it matter now where the other transmitter is? They already know our names and that Zeki Aras is dead. What else is there to hide?" Emir asked angrily.

"They know because it was at your insistence we release some hostages, so unless you have an idea that actually helps, I don't want to hear any more from you," Hamza snarled back.

"It is not solely your decision to make. We are all in this together now, and what happens affects us all," Emir said.

"We want a way out of here. We need to tell them we need a way out. We'll take some hostages and release them once we are away," Mustafa said.

"They will only follow and capture us the moment the hostages are released," Hamza said. "They'll know we cannot allow the hostages to see where we go."

"You better hurry up and decide whatever it is you do want because now that the FBI knows you have injured hostages, they'll be coming in sooner rather than later," Gibbs said.

"You sit down and shut up. You are only making things worse," Hamza said.

"No, I'm trying to show you a way out that offers you your best chances. You've already killed, so you're limited, but your companions' victims are still alive… for now," Gibbs said. "I get it that you're trying to wait them out so you're not the only murderer."

"Is that what this is about, Hamza? Is that why you will not let the wounded go?" Emir asked suspiciously.

"You idiot. You are allowing him to manipulate you, which is exactly what he is trying to do. We all took this room hostage during our negotiations. We will all face the same charges if we are caught," Hamza said.

"That's not necessarily true. The DA is always look for someone willing to make a deal – especially against a murderer," Gibbs said.

"They expect an answer, and if we don't want them coming in here now and killing all of us, we'd better give them one," Mustafa said.

"If we didn't get Aras to change his mind, who do we go to now? President Gul?" Emir asked.

"The president is never going to discuss anything with us. We need the one making the policies," Hamza said, eyes moving as he mentally worked out his plans. "FBI – can you hear me?"

"I can hear you," the voice boomed, still coming from behind the kitchen door rather than the main one where they'd released the hostages. "Are you ready to give us your demands?"

"I want to speak with our Minister of Foreign Affairs, Ali Babacan. You will supply the equipment for a video conference and arrange it, then I want a large car – an SUV - without any tracking equipment. When we leave, several hostages will accompany us. We will release them once we're sure we aren't being followed," Hamza said.

"That's going to take some time," the negotiator said.

"I am in no hurry. The wounded men are the ones on your timetable," Hamza said smugly.

Gibbs kept his expression neutral but winced internally. This guy might not be the brightest terrorist ever, but he was slick. Both of the injured men were at risk of bleeding out if medical attention was delayed too long, even with a room full of doctors. They had no access to anything to treat them. Of the two, DiNozzo was in far worse shape. The FBI wasn't going to make a deal with terrorists; they were going to stall, but time was what they didn't have.

"Let me see what I can do," the negotiator said.

Hamza looked pleased as he stared triumphantly at his cohorts, then his gaze turned to Gibbs and grew ugly. "I told you to sit down and shut up. No one else is going anywhere."

Gibbs relented for the moment, feeling that pushing the terrorist any further would only result in more injuries. Before this was over however, Gibbs would be sure to make him pay. He sat back on the floor with the group huddled around Tony.

"Emir and Mustafa, we need to get all these hostages back in a group here in the middle of the room. If the FBI comes in, we can use them as a barricade," Hamza said, staring directly at Gibbs.

When Gibbs remained seated and didn't give him the satisfaction of a response, they began gathering all the hostages that had spread out around the ballroom in an attempt to get away from the gunfire and directing them back into the center of the floor. As they approached each hostage, they continued to check their ears for the missing earwig, although it appeared they were more focused on their escape plan now.

Brad and Mark had moved the other injured man, Dr. Higgins, over to where DiNozzo lay so they had easier access to both patients. Dr. Higgins wound was still oozing around the makeshift bandages, but the blood loss seemed to have slowed. The same couldn't be said for Tony, unfortunately. He was exceedingly pale and seemed to be struggling to remain conscious. He was shivering violently, despite the layer of suit jackets covering him. Gibbs wanted to use the unobserved time to make a few things clear.

"Good job keeping your mouth shut, DiNozzo. I know how difficult that must've been for you," he said, forcing the typical bite into his voice. Usually, his Senior Field Agent would add numerous smartass comments to his negotiations. He was at a loss to explain the hollow feeling he had from the lack of that familiar annoyance.

DiNozzo managed a weak smirk around his swollen lip. "You did… good, Boss," he said, his breath coming out in short, staccato gasps.

"It's a wonder I ever get anything accomplished when you're not around," Gibbs said, raising his eyebrows.

"Exactly. D'you… have the… transmitter?" DiNozzo asked with obvious difficulty that concerned Gibbs more than he wanted to let on.

He couldn't let his worry show, however, or he knew DiNozzo would take it badly. "Yeah, I –"

"Don't tell… me where… case I… get… delirious… and… blab," DiNozzo said, closing his eyes. The entire left side of his face was now bruised and swollen, and many of the suit jackets piled on top of him were now stained with blood.

Gibbs worried eyes met Brad and Jeanne's, who were watching the whole conversation with obvious concern.

"It's not his lungs," Brad said instantly.

"His breathing difficulty is from the blood loss. He needs to stay still and warm," Jeanne said, directing her warning with a stern look at both of them.

Gibbs suspected she'd told DiNozzo this numerous times already, but he also couldn't help but notice that she made sure all the various suit jackets were covering her charge completely as she used her hands to gently try and warm his arms.

Gibbs gut twisted, but he kept up his hard-ass persona. Tony would expect nothing less, and he somehow always seemed to draw strength from Gibbs staying true to form.

"Hadn't planned on telling you anyway, just in case they bribed you with pizza. Our whole operation would be shot."

The haggard expression on Tony's face relaxed slightly. "Been… a long time… since… breakfast… Boss," he said.

Gibbs couldn't help it, he reached out and grasped Tony's good hand within his own, squeezing it reassuringly. Tony's hand felt too cool for the temperature in the room. "Yeah. You hang in there, or else there'll be hell to pay. You hear me?" he asked, unable to completely conceal his concern this time.

When DiNozzo didn't respond, Gibbs got up to move away, his eyes pinning Brad to ensure he knew to take care of his patient, or he'd have Gibbs to answer to. He shifted over to Ziva who was watching the whole scene with hooded eyes while also paying attention to the terrorists as they moved the other hostages around. The group in the center was growing larger, but there were a few terrified individuals who didn't want to move from their areas of refuge.

"He is not guarding her up while he's injured, Gibbs. We should be watching his back, yes?" she asked.

It took Gibbs a minute to put that one together. "Keeping his guard up, Ziva," he said impatiently. "I told you to focus on the terrorists. We don't have a lot of time. When the FBI has finally had enough, they're going to come in through the main door since they know the terrorists are expecting them from the kitchen. Are you still armed?" he asked, knowing the terrorists had taken her gun, but Ziva usually had a number of concealed weapons elsewhere. The dirtbags never expected such a deadly foe to come in such a small package.

She nodded. "I have several weapons, including a deadly blade strapped to my thigh for the easiest access," she said, her lips barely moving.

"Good. I want you to take out Mustafa if you're able, and I'll concentrate on Hamza. Emir is closest to the main door, so we'll have to count on the FBI to get him quick," Gibbs said hurriedly, knowing the terrorists were too far away to overhear, but McGee was picking up every word.

"I disagree. I think Emir is more dangerous and a greater threat than Mustafa. I should take out Emir," Ziva said.

"It's not up for debate. Mustafa is the furthest from the door and will have the best opportunity to take out hostages. You take him out. We clear?" he asked.

"Clear," Ziva said, making no effort to hide her displeasure with the order. Still, he knew she'd follow it.

"All hostages are now back in a grouping in the middle of the floor. The injured are closest to the main entrance. The leader of the group is in the middle of the room with a henchman at each end. I'll give a signal when Ziva and I make our move," he said, looking down and keeping his voice low while he gave McGee another sitrep. Now they just needed to give the FBI time to get into place.

He turned back to where DiNozzo lay, needing to let him know it was almost showtime, as his agent would say. He knelt down, dismayed by Tony's rapid breathing and the greyish tinge of his skin.

"Not long now, DiNozzo. You still follow rule nine?" he asked.

Tony grunted, weakly reaching for his belt beneath the pile of suit jackets.

"Stay still," Gibbs said quickly, once again grabbing his hand and giving it a brief squeeze. It was still too cold. "I'll get it. Brad, keep your body exactly where it is so they can't see my hands."

Gibbs moved some of the jackets aside and quickly undid Tony's belt, removing the knife that was concealed in the buckle. He inserted it inside his shirt sleeve, the one that wasn't already holding the earwig. During the initial siege, the terrorists had taken his knife along with his gun which had been strapped to his belt. They had no idea about this one, however. Brad and Jeanne's eyes were wide with shock as they watched what he was doing, but they wisely remained silent.

"You stay down, that's an order. Understood?" he asked, fixing his gaze on Tony's one open eye. He wasn't about to lose his agent here at the end because of Tony's need to help. He'd always followed Gibbs' orders before, so he was going to count on it.

Tony scowled, obviously unhappy, but he reluctantly agreed. "Clear," he whispered.

Before Gibbs could move away, Tony reached over and feebly grasped his sleeve. Brad and Jeanne seemed to realize the need for a little privacy, so they shifted to help Mark tend Dr. Higgins.

This time, it was Tony's turn to pin Gibbs with his eyes. "Get… her… out… okay," he said with difficulty, his body trembling.

Gibbs gut churned. "We're all getting out of here, DiNozzo. Then we'll figure out what to do about her," he said, re-arranging the pile of suit jackets so Tony was completely covered once again.

Tony didn't relinquish his gaze. "Promise me… Please," he said.

Gibbs swore, hating this. He wasn't going to let Tony die, but he wasn't going to let him think this was the end and the last thing Gibbs did was disappoint him, either. He waited until he was sure DiNozzo was focused and jerked his head once, knowing his agent would take that as the promise it was meant to be.

"I'll do everything I can to get you both out of here," he said uneasily, running his hand along Tony's hair in an effort to offer some small measure of comfort.

/* /* /* /*

Special Agent Timothy McGee could feel his damp shirt clinging to him uncomfortably. Sweat dripped down his back as he listened to the other members of his team making their plans to try and overtake armed terrorists in a hostage situation. Earlier that day, Tim had been so happy to have control of the communications room on their protection detail. He'd never imagined things would go this sideways this fast.

He finished his notes on the sitrep Gibbs had given him and handed them over to the FBI agent who was acting as currier between Tim and the negotiator. The terrorists were expecting them to come in from the kitchen, so the plan was to actually go in from the main entrance. The key sticking point being the FBI's ability to take out the terrorist at the front of the room quickly. Tim had no doubt that Ziva and Gibbs would neutralize the other two. The nagging uncertainty was the FBI's ability to keep up their end of the bargain – quickly and concisely. Perhaps Gibbs' distrust of the feebs had rubbed off on him, but Tim was incredibly anxious having the lives of all the hostages – not to mention his entire team – in their hands.

Tim knew it was a given that Gibbs would never allow the feebs to take the lead without pushback, but Tim didn't know what else he could do. He was outranked, and they had the resources and knowledge on how to diffuse a hostage situation. Tim strongly felt he should be with the SWAT team going in, but the agent heading up the FBI team had flatly nixed that idea. Tim was to remain here and convey intel.

Same as always – but this time his anxiety was ratcheted up tenfold, and he was struggling not to let it paralyze him.

Tony was going to bleed out if they didn't hurry, but Gibbs and Ziva were literally bringing knives to a gunfight. Tim was more than aware that was an analogy that Tony would've been sure to make were he the one stuck on the outside. Of course, Tony never would've agreed to be out of the action.

Tim's stomach twisted. He thought he could better understand the ulcer Sam Burley claimed to have developed after years of working on Gibbs' team. Tim suspected that he might be developing one of his own. Communication was his wheelhouse however, and he could do the most good here, so he was going to do his best work to bring his team out safely.

"What's happening, Timmy?" Abby's tremulous voice came across his headset. She'd been a mess ever since he'd told her about the first sound of gunfire, and she kept having to walk away from her headphones to regain her equilibrium. Tim was sure both Ducky and Jimmy were in the lab with her trying to keep her calm.

"The FBI is briefing a SWAT team. It won't be long before they go in," Tim said, trying to keep his voice steady. "There's a helicopter on the roof ready to transport the injured to Bethesda."

"How's Tony?" she asked, her voice quivering.

"He doesn't sound good, but Gibbs made him promise to stay out of the fight, not that I think he'd be capable of doing much, anyway," Tim said.

He didn't have any medical background, but as a Federal agent he knew the signs of excessive blood loss. Shock, shortness of breath, confusion and eventually unconsciousness. Tony had the first two, although he still appeared to have his head in the game, and Tim took that as a good sign.

"What about the other injured hostage?" Abby asked.

"Dr. Richard Higgins from London. The doctors seem to have slowed his blood loss considerably, but I heard them talking about their concern he could lose his leg if they keep that tourniquet on much longer," Tim said.

"That's true. Time definitely isn't on their side – for either of them. So, now we just have to wait for the FBI and hope they don't screw it up?" Abby asked, sounding desolate.

"Technically, we're waiting for Gibbs to give a signal. I think he's just giving the FBI time to get situated," Tim said, not surprised in the least that his boss was still calling the shots despite being one of the hostages.

"He doesn't trust the Hoover boys, but he won't wait too long with Tony's life hanging in the balance," Abby said.

Tim swallowed convulsively. "He… I heard him tell Hamza Demir that he'd follow him into hell to watch him die twice if Tony died," he said, hearing the echo of Gibbs' enraged voice in his head. Of course, he'd heard Gibbs angry before – anger was his usual setting, but he'd never heard him so outright protective. Never mind that it was Tony he was protecting. Tim hadn't found a way to process it, and he didn't have the time to mull it over. But the words and the fury behind them wouldn't get out of his head. He doubted very much that Demir was coming out of this situation alive no matter what happened. The question was, would he take Gibbs out with him?

"Did he really? He must be so pissed-off. Not only is Jeanne Benoit back in Tony's life, but he's been shot, too. That actually makes me worry less. Gibbs isn't going to let Demir get away with this," Abby said assuredly.

"Even though he has a gun, and Gibbs only has a knife?" Tim asked, hoping Abby would help alleviate his own fears.

"A knife Demir doesn't know he has, and he's Gibbs," Abby said as if that explained everything.

"Tony asked him to promise to get Jeanne out of there alive," Tim said uncomfortably. Evidence of how much Tony had actually cared about his mark always made him feel uneasy. It was out-of-character and went against every impression he had of his co-worker. It made the neat little box of hypotheses about his team that he kept in his mind rattle and shake. Tim hated feeling so off-kilter.

"Yeah, well that might not be possible," Abby said, not sounding as if she cared very much if Jeanne was one of the casualties.

This was so unlike Abby that Tim's mouth actually dropped open in surprise. "Abby!" he gasped.

He heard Abby harrumph, obviously annoyed but not really meaning what she'd implied. "I just don't want her near Tony, particularly when he's unable to protect himself," she said. "He finally seemed like he was putting the pieces back together, you know?"

Tim scratched his head, not quite able to picture Tony as vulnerable, even with a gunshot wound. Maybe he'd feel differently when he actually got into that room and saw him.

"Although, I don't think he'll ever be able to protect himself from that woman fully, and I'm not sure he wants to. The whole situation is so messed up," Abby said, as if she hadn't even noticed Tim's prolonged silence.

"Pretty sure they both feel Jeanne was the victim, not Tony, Abs," he said, squirming. He couldn't imagine what it must've been like to have her whole life turned upside down like that. Both her father and her boyfriend weren't who she'd believed they were. That had to mess with a person's head.

"She was the victim, until she falsely accused Tony of murder," Abby said vehemently. "That evened out their lies. I mean, is she aware what could've happened to him? Lies are not okay – and they both should know better. Tony does know better – that's why he's been tearing himself apart. He lied to all of us – even me, and you know Abby's number one rule – never lie to Abby,"

"I suppose things just snowballed for both of them," Tim said, shrugging. "It was a shady undercover op to begin with."

"I know, right? The Director lied, too, and she's more responsible for this mess than either of them, but they all need to put it behind them. Tony and Jeanne are both better off far, far away from each other, and this whole thing is forcing them to be together. Can you imagine what must be going through their heads? I wouldn't want to be trapped in a situation like this with any of my exes, and they all know my real name. What d'you–"

"Where are the other men?" Hamza's angry shout came from the earwig hidden in Gibbs' sleeve, making Tim jump. "They are not all here. There was one who wore a garish purple necktie. Where is he?"

Tim sat up, quickly shutting down Abby's connection and fumbling for his pen. Uh oh, this was it. Time was up. The currier hadn't yet returned, so Tim picked up the hotel phone, punching in the numbers. The negotiator picked up on the first ring.

"Heads up. They've noticed the missing hostages," Tim said, his body on full alert.

"Our team is in position," the negotiator replied.

"You… Agent Gibbs… where are the other hostages?" Hamza asked, his voice now much louder and more distinct. He must've moved closer to wherever Gibbs was – or Gibbs had moved over to him.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I don't remember a purple tie. I'm not even sure what color tie I'm wearing," Gibbs said.

"You released them" Hamza said, sounding completely deranged.

"How would I do that? You've been watching me the entire time," Gibbs said. "Putting your gun to my head won't change that."

This was it – time was up. "Go. Now," Tim said, holding his breath.

Author's Note

I was working on the original first draft of this chapter last October. I spent Halloween night researching symptoms of blood loss. God help me if anything ever happens that the authorities have to check my search engines. I've researched some funky stuff for these stories, lol.

Melinda's NCIS Rule Number One: Always leave a comment – it keeps the author motivated. Thanks so much for all the responses – I really do enjoy reading them, and it always makes me want to write more.