SPN/NCIS gen fic: Out for Blood 4/9
Apr. 22nd, 2007 10:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
superbadgirlTitle: Out for Blood
Author: SBG
Rating: R, for language
Category: H/C, Angst, A/A, Crossover with NCIS
Season/spoilers: Sometime in S2 for Supernatural (big reference to DMB), S4 for NCIS
Word count: Now a hair over 39,000 ;)
Summary: Someone from Dean and Sam Winchester’s past comes back to haunt them…and they also take a member of the NCIS team.
Disclaimer: All things Supernatural belong to Kripke Enterprises and The CW. All things NCIS belong to Bellisarius Productions and CBS.
Notes: Still thanking![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ldyanne for her support and typo-spotting. Except for the bits even she hasn't seen. Assume any typos come from those unedited bits. ;)
Then
Back to part one
Or part two
Or even part three
“So,” Tony said. He stared at his cellmate warily, and all he could think about was how screwed up it was that of all the ways he thought he might die he was actually going to kick it while locked up by a bunch of rednecks, and with a crazy man (homicidal, apparently; delusional, definitely) at that. “Let me get this straight. You and your brother travel around the US hunting all sorts of evil make-believe things. That woman is actually one evil, evil vampire, and so was her boyfriend, who your now dead dad killed last year. Now she wants revenge, so she grabbed you and even though she’s got you she hasn’t laid a hand on you for some strange reason.”
“Yeah, that about sums it up.”
Tony laughed weakly, and tipped his head back against the wall and banged it a couple of times gently. If he got out of this, he had to write a screenplay. This stuff was priceless, really, might even revive the true horror genre of old. None of that Saw, Scream or Hostel bullshit they put out these days. Good, old-fashioned vampires. Redneck vampires – he could set it in Appalachia or something. Deliverance with an even more horrifying twist. He should ask the guy to sign a release form. McGee would totally give him writing tips.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Dean Winchester, but I think you’re a little bit nuts.”
Or, y’know, a lot nuts, he thought.
“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that before. I didn’t figure you’d believe me, but I had to try,” Dean said, shrugging. Tony swore he heard the guy mutter fed and idiot in way too close proximity to each other. “Do me a favor. Look at your gunshot wound more closely.”
“Damn, is it bleeding again?”
Winchester rolled his eyes. Throughout the whole insane tale, there had been a tone in Dean’s voice Tony couldn’t quite dismiss. Crock of shit or not, Dean believed what he was saying. That just made Tony feel worse, though; the guy needed more help than a simple rescue could give. Intent, somehow not-crazy eyes bore into him, so he started sliding off his ruined Armani jacket, said a silent eulogy for it and the equally damaged Hugo Boss shirt underneath it. He took off his silk tie. It was still in remarkably good shape. Salvageable, at least. He could feel Dean’s gaze still on him as he unbuttoned and wriggled his shirt down. What the…?
“What the hell?” he said.
“No one shot you.”
“Is that…I think those are teeth marks.”
“Yeah, they are,” Dean said tiredly, like he was talking to a child. “You might want to wrap your arm up with something. This place isn’t exactly sanitary.”
“One of those assholes actually bit me.”
“Much like a vampire would.”
“I could get rabies or something,” Tony said, ignoring the vampire remark.
“Believe it or not, Old Yeller, that would actually be a positive outcome to this.”
Dean stood up and paced in front of him. Since the woman had uncuffed him, Kate, Tony reminded himself with an internal grimace, Dean had stretched his arms out over and over, like a batter about to step up to the plate. Couldn’t blame him. Hours spent with hands restricted couldn’t have been pleasant. Tony stared back down at the bloody gash on his own arm. There wasn’t that much blood, but he felt weak and had a headache that didn’t feel like it was just from being knocked out. He’d expected some clarity after hearing what Dean had to tell, but he was so not clear. Vampires were not real, yet someone had bitten him. He had a wound that should have made his sleeve drenched in blood, yet there were only reddish brown stains around the tear. He was dizzy and achey, much like he’d be if he had lost blood. He sighed.
“I just thought…” Dean stopped, looked at him again. “Things are going to get bad. It would really be in our best interest to get out of here sooner rather than later, and I figured you knowing the whole score would help.”
“It would be in your brother’s best interest, too,” he said. Dean stared at him with surprise. Behind that emotion, Tony also saw worry. “Hey, I’m not saying I buy your story, but I believe you and they believe they’re vampires and that’s freaky enough for me. That…Kate person mentioned your brother, so I’m assuming she really does want him for something.”
“For something,” Dean repeated quietly. “Everybody wants something with…”
Dean stopped talking, ran a hand down his face. The story might have been completely fictional, a work of delusions, but the emotion Dean revealed was real. Tony doubted the guy knew he was such an open book. Dean crouched down, and up close the worry was even more palpable, and that he was so obviously connected to his brother gave Tony some odd kind of comfort. Then again, cold-blooded killers and mentally unstable people might have the same kind of concern for their loved ones as well.
“I was serious about bandaging that up. It’s going to be hard enough breaking out of here with your ass tagging along, but if that gets infected it’ll be even worse. I can do it if you want. I’ve had lots of practice with that kind of thing.”
Tony nodded mutely and let Dean create a makeshift bandage. He barely even winced when his shirtsleeve was ripped off; after all, it was already a lost cause. He did balk when Winchester went for his tie, cringed when the guy shrugged and jammed it into the pocket of his leather jacket.
For several minutes, they didn’t talk. To tell the truth, Tony needed more time to process and Dean seemed to get that. Dean improvised the bandage as efficiently as he’d indicated he could, with the skill of a trained field medic. Tony didn’t think the guy was military and yet somehow reminded him of Gibbs, in a totally intangible and unlikely way. The sharp, always alert eyes, the relaxed but not relaxed manner in which he held himself…or maybe he was just projecting, because it would be nice to have Gibbs and McGee and Ziva break through that door and get him out before the something worse Dean thought was going to happen, happened.
Tony replayed the day’s events in his head, and even though the whole vampire thing was still nuts, the rest of Dean’s explanation seemed to fit what little he knew about their captors. Maybe Winchester’s father was a killer and the only way he could cope with that horrible truth was to pretend myths and urban legends were real. It was kind of sad, in a way. He watched Dean do what he had already done, make a circuit around the cell.
“You already know there’s no way out,” he said, trying to sound relaxed and not like a jerk. It didn’t work. “You said so yourself.”
“At the time you looked about ready to fall on your face. I just wanted you to sit down.” Dean sort of smiled, then kept on with his search. “Besides, there’s always a way out.”
The guy hadn’t so much as flinched when Tony had been taking him into custody, but here and now he prowled like a tiger. Tony didn’t know what the hell was really going on (and frankly didn’t care much about the actual details); he was convinced that while Dean was nuttier than his Aunt Mabel’s carrot cake, his concern was still enough reason for Tony to have his own. It didn’t take a genius to note behavioral changes, and he’d always been decent at reading people. Underneath the exterior hard shell, Dean Winchester was nervous, and about more than just being locked up in a cage.
“I’m sure my team’s ready to bust through that door any minute now.”
“Yeah, well, no offense but I’m not going to hold my breath waiting for that.”
Tony didn’t point out it was a hell of a lot more likely that NCIS would find and release them than it was for a lone (he wanted to say younger) brother to do it. He also didn’t point out the bars on the cage were solid, the door was locked with thick chains and padlock and the vam…people had taken everything from them but their clothes. He knew Dean knew all of that, and had probably known it a minute after they’d been tossed in there. The guy had tenacity that he had to admire. Hell, if he had the energy, he’d probably be right there looking for that futile way out himself. Again.
“Why do you suppose she took the cuffs off you?” Tony said. “The way I see it, they had even more of an advantage with you incapacitated.”
“Maybe she’s not into bondage.” Dean banged a fist against the bars. “Actually, she kind of is.”
“You’d also think that if she’s got a bone to pick with you she wouldn’t just let you sit here. She looked the type who might enjoy bringing others pain.”
“Aren’t you just Mr. Happy Happy Sunshine?”
“I wonder where they are right now,” Tony said, ignoring Dean’s frustrated mutterings. “The two guys she’s with are pretty big and ugly.”
“For your sake, I hope they’re not hungry too.”
Again with the vampire talk. Wait, hungry could mean…actually, he hoped it was vampire talk. Tony closed his eyes, leaned his head against the wall again. He was tired, but kept in mind the blow to the head and the bout of unconsciousness he’d experienced. Dean kept moving around, ever searching. It was Gibbs all over again. He couldn’t wait to tell his boss he’d met a not so mini him. His thoughts wandered to the rest of the team. He thought about Abby doing her brainiac forensics thing, how it really had to be only a matter of time before they all figured it out. He couldn’t remember more than bits and pieces, but he was pretty sure being careful didn’t register as a concern with these deviants.
“Hey, don’t go to sleep on me now.”
“Not sleeping, just conserving energy,” Tony said. He opened his eyes a crack. “So what happens if they do get your brother? They’ll kill you for sure, probably me too.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Dean stood above him, looking menacing and vulnerable at the same time. “It isn’t going to happen. Sam’s good.”
“Yeah, well, no offense but I’m not going to hold my breath waiting for him to come get us out.”
“You don’t kno…”
The sound of the door opening halted Dean’s retort. Tony knew he shouldn’t have thrown that back at the guy. The brother seemed a bit of a hot button issue, and they were on the same side for the time being. Bickering wouldn’t help either of them. Prisoners needed solidarity. Tony had a very bad feeling as he watched Kate slink into the room, eyes predatory and cold. She could very well pass for a fox plotting to get into the coop, interested in devouring whatever she could, and damned if he suddenly wasn’t chicken. He glanced down at his bandaged arm. It was crazy, but he thought that if they actually were vampires, then the smell of dried blood was probably making them thirsty. He glanced down at his arm.
“Hello, boys. Didn’t think I’d leave you alone for long, did you?” she said. Neither he nor Dean replied. Kate shrugged indifferently. She looked back toward the door, calling, “It’s time for some fun.”
Oh, crap. It was apparently an invitation. The two hulks from before, Alex and Duane, lumbered into the room, as well as another woman. Tony scrabbled to his feet. Dean stiffened, prepping for a fight they couldn’t possibly win. Hell, he doubted they’d even have a shot at making it to the door. Tony wasn’t a defeatist, but he still felt a little shaky; he wasn’t going to be much help. He watched Dean carefully, perfectly willing to take direction from the guy. He was starting to think maybe Winchester wasn’t crazy.
“It was a mistake to uncuff me,” Dean growled. “I’m going to kill you.”
“Maybe it was, but I doubt you’ll kill me. Heather, the door.”
The other woman, slightly more petite than Kate, stepped forward and unlocked the door. Tony tightened his muscles, ready to make a break for it. Dean took a step, and then it was like the Bowman crime scene all over again. Three of their captors moved so fast Tony could barely register they had before one of the guys had him in a firm grip. He struggled to get out of the hold, to no avail. He felt hot, moist breath on his neck.
“Anh, Alex, not yet,” Kate said. “We need him to keep Dean in line.”
“Aww,” Alex said in his ear. “His blood’s pumping so fast.”
“Soon, I promise.”
Tony managed to look over at Dean, who was similarly held but was fighting hard, lunging in his direction. That was when he saw it. The other woman, Heather, moved in on Dean, pressing her body against his. God, she looked ready to molest him right there. She was molesting him in some perverse seduction routine. Tony noticed there was something wrong with her face. Her leering smile was…sharp. She lashed out and smacked Dean across the cheekbone, hard enough to draw blood. She must have rings on, Tony thought randomly. Then it got worse, because then she writhed close to him and licked the wound clean. Dean clenched his jaw, and his right eye twitched.
“I’m really not in the mood, honey,” Dean said.
Another backhand, more blood. More licking. Tony didn’t want to see any of the sick performance, but he couldn’t look away.
“Oh, god,” Tony moaned. Now he was sure Winchester wasn’t insane, but he wasn’t certain he wasn’t a bit touched himself. “What the fuck is this?”
Dean made eye contact with him, and Tony saw so many things in his eyes. Anger, regret, desperation. And then Kate stepped between him and Dean, blocking his view. He blinked, saw the silver glint of a knife. Saw her smile was sharp, too.
“This is a pre-dinner snack,” she said. She flicked the knife at him, and he couldn’t move enough to avoid being sliced across the chest. Tony gasped. Kate ripped at his shirt open. “Just relax. It doesn’t have to hurt. Much.”
“Leave him alone, Kate, it’s me you want. He doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Dean said, menace making his voice deep and commanding. Tony heard the slap of flesh against flesh again and then again, heard Dean groan. “Damnit.”
Kate ignored Dean completely. She leaned toward him, eyes intent on the bleeding cut on his chest. He felt her tongue swirl around it, and then she latched on and sucked. He closed his eyes, as if that could help him be somewhere other than there. The sensation of her suckling at his chest was painful, yet strangely erotic and he felt warmth flood him. Tony bucked weakly, and could not think of one single time in his life when he had been so frightened. She released him, finally, pulled back. He recoiled at the sight of his own blood on her lips.
“Now, Kate?” Alex said. “Please?”
“I need a word with Dean first,” she said, giving Tony a lecherous look. “Heather.”
And then Heather was in front of him. He could see Dean over the top of his new tormentor’s head, and it didn’t look good. He forgot about his own condition for a minute. Blood oozed from various places on Dean, small wounds but enough to make the guy appear shocky. Kate leaned and whispered something to Dean that got him moving again, but he’d been beaten enough that his fighting was ineffective. Duane pulled Dean’s head back. Tony watched with horror as the guy…monster…grew sharp teeth just like the women and sank them into Dean’s shoulder, sucked long enough for Dean to go slightly limp.
“Bring that one,” Kate said, pointing to him.
“No,” Dean said weakly. Duane released him, and he fell to the floor. “Don’t. Don’t.”
Tony was dragged out of the cell. The last thing he saw was Dean trying to crawl uncoordinatedly to the door before it closed.
~~*~~
“As soon as I pulled the this and saw the badge, I cleared the scene,” the ME said without preamble. She handed Gibbs a plastic-bagged wallet, and gave him a sympathetic grimace. “I knew you guys would want to take over. He didn’t have anything else on him, and the wallet’s been cleaned out. This was one hell of a messy mugging.”
Gibbs gave a cursory look at the badge and ID, like he expected a mistake to have occurred, that it wasn’t Tony’s. There was no such luck. Tony’s picture stared back at him, his face wearing that devil-may-care smile he always thought was so charming. It must have been; ID shots were supposed to be unsmiling. He handed the bag off to McGee, who looked like a lost puppy as he stared at it. Gibbs steeled himself and moved forward. He knew he had to be strong, not show how much this impacted him. He knew if he kept it up his team would as well, and he wasn’t ready to deal with their grief and anger on top of his own. He swore he’d track these bastards down and make sure they all got what they deserved.
The body was prone, but Gibbs recognized the suit as something Tony would definitely have in his closet, though one of the sleeves had been ripped off. To him, a suit wasn’t hard proof. It couldn’t be, no matter how it looked. Behind him, McGee choked a little and Gibbs scrabbled to retain his hope that this was all a mistake. It was like Kate all over again, the same horrible cold feeling set up house in his gut, that he’d failed to keep his people safe from harm. That he’d somehow failed to teach them all they needed to know to survive in this job, or in this world. It was ridiculous, because Kate and Tony had both known, had been excellent agents. He caught himself thinking of Tony in the past tense, clenched his jaw. He squatted down next to the body. The hair was the same. The suit, the hair, god, it really was DiNozzo.
“Damnit, Tony,” he whispered, too soft for anyone to hear. The person his words were directed to was beyond hearing anyway. He wiped a hand across his mouth. “I didn’t want it to be this way for you.”
“Boss?”
He stood up and glanced at his team, what was left of it. McGee had his eyes pinned on the body, and Ziva looked distant. Her nostrils flared slightly, and he knew she was as angry as he was. He glanced beyond them, saw the police milling around at the end of the alley and doing crowd control. They weren’t anywhere near the middle class neighborhood where Bowman lived; this was probably the morning entertainment for these people. At least they weren’t peeking through window curtains like they probably had at Bowman’s.
“McGee, you’re on photography. Ziva, start processing the alley. Make sure you bag everything.”
“Do you think…is that really Tony?” Ziva said, sounding not nearly as distant as she looked. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she sounded as distressed as she did angry. There might be a human being in there somewhere after all, Gibbs thought. “I think I recognize his shoes.”
“Looks like it, but you know we can’t move the body until Ducky and Palmer are through.”
Truthfully, he himself clung to hope that it wasn’t Tony, as illogical as that was. He wasn’t ready to admit it might be. That it was Tony who lay there dead and bloody. McGee and Ziva moved around him robotically, on autopilot. They were trying hard to distance themselves the same way he did. Little did they know. Frankly, none of them should be on this case anymore. He almost wanted Fornell to storm NCIS and demand FBI jurisdiction. No, that wasn’t true, either. He had to get a grip. He surveyed the scene. Alleys were difficult to process.
“Boss, take a look at this.”
McGee stood by a dumpster, ten feet away, camera up and focused on the far end of it. He snapped a couple of shots. Gibbs and Ziva both joined him. Dark graffiti, fresh, stood out against the green painted receptacle. Another bloody message. Getting tired of waiting. Tick tock. K.
“Does that mean they’ve already taken someone else, or that they’ve moved along to another city?” McGee said thickly.
And now part of Gibbs wanted to find whomever these messages were for and make them pay for not being fast enough. It was insane and irrational, but he was pissed as hell and had no solid place to vent his frustration. Of course, it was as much his fault for being too slow as it was for the nameless, faceless person whom the killer was taunting. More, because it was his job to catch the bad guys. He turned his attention back to the body, to do just that. The MO with this was different, the first person found outside his or her home. He wondered how many of Tony’s last hours had been spent being tortured by sick bastards who just grew too impatient to do anything but kill him. They weren’t happy thoughts.
“I don’t know, McGee.”
That might actually be the worst thing about all of this: his own helplessness. He was good at mental puzzles, at finding a place for every piece, but in this he didn’t even have the border defined here. He really only needed one piece – the intended recipient of the messages would answer so many questions, a good place to start. The method of delivery was faulty if they weren’t intended for the police or NCIS. No one else would have access, and it sure as hell hadn’t been leaked to the press, here or in all other eight cases. He glanced at the end of the alley again, caught glimpses of all the onlookers. A tall figure at the edge of the crowd turned away quickly, floppy hair obscuring his face. Gibbs squinted. The flash of the camera drew Gibbs’ gaze back to the bloody words. He watched as Ziva took a swab for evidence.
“Oh, dear,” he heard behind him. Ducky.
“Oh, god,” came half a second later. Palmer.
Gibbs wasn’t sure if he was ready to watch Ducky perform his on scene examination, but he really didn’t have much of a choice. He moved to stand closer, but not close enough to hover. Ducky shot him a horrified, sympathetic look and started working without saying another word. There were no words for when a team member died. A friend, even, or as close to friendship as Gibbs would allow himself with those he worked with most closely. Tony was a pain in his ass, almost like a kid at times, but the potential to be an outstanding agent was there. Had been there. He watched, tried to keep himself detached emotionally, all the while thinking of the other things he should do right now. It wasn’t until Ducky and Palmer gently turned Tony over that his gut really tightened.
“Oh, Anthony,” Ducky murmured.
Tony’s face was gone. Mauled, a mess of blood and bone. Gibbs leaned down, rested his hands on his knees. He took several deep breaths, but none of them really settled the burning rage and sickness within him.
“The MO changed again,” Ziva said, her tone that same matter-of-fact one she possessed. For some reason, it pissed him off a little. “Why?”
“They’re demanding a confrontation. These may not be personal against the victims, but they are personal attacks against someone,” Ducky said. “Their behavior is erratic, irrational. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn at least one of them suffers a serious mental illness. The ringleader, perhaps.”
They already knew all that. What Gibbs needed was for something new, something genuinely useful to crop up. It might be too late for DiNozzo, but he could still attempt to dole out justice. All of the victims deserved for their killers to be caught, at the very least. And there could be someone else out there right now, suffering unimaginable things. He straightened and stepped away, let Ducky and Ziva conduct their speculative conversation, partly listening, mostly not.
The alley was a convenience drop, which meant it was likely their killers were based somewhere close by. That was more than he’d had to work with thus far. But it came too late. It was too late for Tony. Gibbs shook his head. The killers probably hadn’t taken the time to stage the scene, so there was a decent chance of gaining viable evidence. He needed to stop thinking about anything else but finding something that would put these people away.
“Ziva, we’ve got work to do,” he said, even though hashing things out was working. “Ducky?”
“The monsters,” Ducky said. “Multiple bite wounds, bruising, just like Petty Officer Bowman. He was tortured fast and hard, Gibbs. Poor Anthony’s final hours were not ones I would wish on my worst enemy.”
Oh, shit, he wanted Ducky to shut up. Ducky looked up, caught his eye and he could see realization creep into his expression, then regret. Gibbs swallowed a couple of times, shook his head slightly. He didn’t have the minutes to spare.
“Time of death?”
“I’d estimate it was between 0530 and 0630.”
“That was only a few hours ago. Someone could have seen something.”
Gibbs scanned the crowd at the far end of the alley again. He doubted anyone who’d seen a body dump would stick around. If they hadn’t alerted the cops, they probably weren’t interested in helping an investigation. In this neighborhood, it was better to stay out of the limelight. Still, it was a place to start. There were also a lot of people. He waved Ziva toward one end of the crowd, while he walked toward the other. He needed to speak with the lead officer, find out who had called it in; maybe he was wrong about them sticking around. He was tired of questions leading only to more questions, and having an actual person to speak to might get some bona fide answers. His phone rang before he tracked down the officer.
“Gibbs.”
“Is it true?” Abby’s raspy voice said. He looked up at the sky, dreading having to tell her. “Is Tony…?”
“It looks that way, Abs,” he said gently.
“Oh, no.” She sounded broken, like he felt on the inside. “Oh, Gibbs.”
“I’m going to find these bastards.”
“I know you are. We are. I can’t believe Tony’s gone.”
“I know,” he said. He could feel over the phone how much she needed to hug him at the moment. He had to admit he felt a hug might do him some good as well. “We’ll see you in a while, okay, Abs? We’ve got more for you to work with now.”
“Okay.” She paused. “But there was another reason I called.”
“What is it?”
“It’s not good.” Nothing could be worse than Tony’s disfigured body. “Someone got into the lab. I don’t know how or even when, since I’ve been here round the clock, but they took pieces of evidence. I’m sorry, Gibbs. I screwed up big time.”
Gibbs took a deep breath. He was wrong. There was something worse than seeing Tony dead – it was having evidence that might help convict these killers go missing. Tampering led to questioning credibility. When he finally caught them, they’d probably go free. Damnit. People didn’t just break into Abby’s lab. Hell, they didn’t get into the building without jumping through hoops, and not everyone had the access to get to certain areas of the building. Certain areas like her lab. A guest pass wouldn’t get a person very far, and never without an escort. He clenched his jaw and looked back at Ducky and Palmer working grimly. It was like he couldn’t look away.
“What did they get?” he said.
“The gun and the knife from the Bowman scene.”
“Nothing else?” He frowned. “They didn’t try to tamper with anything?”
“Yeah. Uhm. They took some of the blood samples.” Shit, whatever case they had for Bowman was now gone. All the test results in the world wouldn’t matter. Gibbs clenched his jaw tightly and counted to ten. “I already checked for prints. Everywhere. There aren’t any.”
“You checked the surveillance tapes, right?”
“I’m doing that right now, Gibbs.”
“Call me when you know more.”
“I’m really sorry. I don’t know how…”
“Abby,” he said, calm despite the anger that filled him. He wasn’t angry with her, much; it wasn’t her fault. He was angry about everything else, and the last person he ever wanted to take all of his frustrations out on was Abby. “It’s okay. You’ve got the prints from the scene logged, and the photos, and the results from the blood samples. There wasn’t much there anyway, nothing useable or it wouldn’t have gotten this f…never mind. The weapons weren’t used and the blood was probably already compromised. I doubt any of it would have broken the case.”
“Gibbs, you shouldn’t be nice to me. You should fire me.”
“I don’t have the power to fire you, and I wouldn’t if I did.” Frankly, he hoped he’d be able to prevent that obvious ramification. This was big. He knew it, and Abby knew it. “We’ll deal with the consequences later. Work on re-building whatever case we’ve got with materials that haven’t been tainted, and whatever we get from this scene. I need you more focused than ever.”
“I’ll try,” she said softly, “to not think about Tony.”
“Yeah, me too.”
He hung up abruptly, resisted the urge to drop the cell phone onto the ground and stomp it into a million pieces. Missing evidence, no matter how irrelevant or circumstantial, would reflect poorly when they caught the killers and prosecuted them. Or killed them. It wasn’t like Abby to leave things unattended, which…his brain started finding the outside edge of the puzzle. The killers wouldn’t be so bold as to break into a government facility, so whoever had done it…and he admitted he was probably reaching…had been the person the messages were for. He flashed to the nervous man he’d run into at the office, at the elevators, and then to the tall figure in the gawker crowd who’d turned away just a few minutes ago. The stature, the hair, the furtiveness were all the same. There was no way it was coincidence that this person kept showing up.
“Son of a bitch,” he said.
A quick perusal of the crowd showed the guy was long gone.
~~*~~
Carry on to part five
Dum-dum-dummmmmm. ;)
Author: SBG
Rating: R, for language
Category: H/C, Angst, A/A, Crossover with NCIS
Season/spoilers: Sometime in S2 for Supernatural (big reference to DMB), S4 for NCIS
Word count: Now a hair over 39,000 ;)
Summary: Someone from Dean and Sam Winchester’s past comes back to haunt them…and they also take a member of the NCIS team.
Disclaimer: All things Supernatural belong to Kripke Enterprises and The CW. All things NCIS belong to Bellisarius Productions and CBS.
Notes: Still thanking
ldyanne for her support and typo-spotting. Except for the bits even she hasn't seen. Assume any typos come from those unedited bits. ;)Then
Back to part one
Or part two
Or even part three
“So,” Tony said. He stared at his cellmate warily, and all he could think about was how screwed up it was that of all the ways he thought he might die he was actually going to kick it while locked up by a bunch of rednecks, and with a crazy man (homicidal, apparently; delusional, definitely) at that. “Let me get this straight. You and your brother travel around the US hunting all sorts of evil make-believe things. That woman is actually one evil, evil vampire, and so was her boyfriend, who your now dead dad killed last year. Now she wants revenge, so she grabbed you and even though she’s got you she hasn’t laid a hand on you for some strange reason.”
“Yeah, that about sums it up.”
Tony laughed weakly, and tipped his head back against the wall and banged it a couple of times gently. If he got out of this, he had to write a screenplay. This stuff was priceless, really, might even revive the true horror genre of old. None of that Saw, Scream or Hostel bullshit they put out these days. Good, old-fashioned vampires. Redneck vampires – he could set it in Appalachia or something. Deliverance with an even more horrifying twist. He should ask the guy to sign a release form. McGee would totally give him writing tips.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Dean Winchester, but I think you’re a little bit nuts.”
Or, y’know, a lot nuts, he thought.
“I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard that before. I didn’t figure you’d believe me, but I had to try,” Dean said, shrugging. Tony swore he heard the guy mutter fed and idiot in way too close proximity to each other. “Do me a favor. Look at your gunshot wound more closely.”
“Damn, is it bleeding again?”
Winchester rolled his eyes. Throughout the whole insane tale, there had been a tone in Dean’s voice Tony couldn’t quite dismiss. Crock of shit or not, Dean believed what he was saying. That just made Tony feel worse, though; the guy needed more help than a simple rescue could give. Intent, somehow not-crazy eyes bore into him, so he started sliding off his ruined Armani jacket, said a silent eulogy for it and the equally damaged Hugo Boss shirt underneath it. He took off his silk tie. It was still in remarkably good shape. Salvageable, at least. He could feel Dean’s gaze still on him as he unbuttoned and wriggled his shirt down. What the…?
“What the hell?” he said.
“No one shot you.”
“Is that…I think those are teeth marks.”
“Yeah, they are,” Dean said tiredly, like he was talking to a child. “You might want to wrap your arm up with something. This place isn’t exactly sanitary.”
“One of those assholes actually bit me.”
“Much like a vampire would.”
“I could get rabies or something,” Tony said, ignoring the vampire remark.
“Believe it or not, Old Yeller, that would actually be a positive outcome to this.”
Dean stood up and paced in front of him. Since the woman had uncuffed him, Kate, Tony reminded himself with an internal grimace, Dean had stretched his arms out over and over, like a batter about to step up to the plate. Couldn’t blame him. Hours spent with hands restricted couldn’t have been pleasant. Tony stared back down at the bloody gash on his own arm. There wasn’t that much blood, but he felt weak and had a headache that didn’t feel like it was just from being knocked out. He’d expected some clarity after hearing what Dean had to tell, but he was so not clear. Vampires were not real, yet someone had bitten him. He had a wound that should have made his sleeve drenched in blood, yet there were only reddish brown stains around the tear. He was dizzy and achey, much like he’d be if he had lost blood. He sighed.
“I just thought…” Dean stopped, looked at him again. “Things are going to get bad. It would really be in our best interest to get out of here sooner rather than later, and I figured you knowing the whole score would help.”
“It would be in your brother’s best interest, too,” he said. Dean stared at him with surprise. Behind that emotion, Tony also saw worry. “Hey, I’m not saying I buy your story, but I believe you and they believe they’re vampires and that’s freaky enough for me. That…Kate person mentioned your brother, so I’m assuming she really does want him for something.”
“For something,” Dean repeated quietly. “Everybody wants something with…”
Dean stopped talking, ran a hand down his face. The story might have been completely fictional, a work of delusions, but the emotion Dean revealed was real. Tony doubted the guy knew he was such an open book. Dean crouched down, and up close the worry was even more palpable, and that he was so obviously connected to his brother gave Tony some odd kind of comfort. Then again, cold-blooded killers and mentally unstable people might have the same kind of concern for their loved ones as well.
“I was serious about bandaging that up. It’s going to be hard enough breaking out of here with your ass tagging along, but if that gets infected it’ll be even worse. I can do it if you want. I’ve had lots of practice with that kind of thing.”
Tony nodded mutely and let Dean create a makeshift bandage. He barely even winced when his shirtsleeve was ripped off; after all, it was already a lost cause. He did balk when Winchester went for his tie, cringed when the guy shrugged and jammed it into the pocket of his leather jacket.
For several minutes, they didn’t talk. To tell the truth, Tony needed more time to process and Dean seemed to get that. Dean improvised the bandage as efficiently as he’d indicated he could, with the skill of a trained field medic. Tony didn’t think the guy was military and yet somehow reminded him of Gibbs, in a totally intangible and unlikely way. The sharp, always alert eyes, the relaxed but not relaxed manner in which he held himself…or maybe he was just projecting, because it would be nice to have Gibbs and McGee and Ziva break through that door and get him out before the something worse Dean thought was going to happen, happened.
Tony replayed the day’s events in his head, and even though the whole vampire thing was still nuts, the rest of Dean’s explanation seemed to fit what little he knew about their captors. Maybe Winchester’s father was a killer and the only way he could cope with that horrible truth was to pretend myths and urban legends were real. It was kind of sad, in a way. He watched Dean do what he had already done, make a circuit around the cell.
“You already know there’s no way out,” he said, trying to sound relaxed and not like a jerk. It didn’t work. “You said so yourself.”
“At the time you looked about ready to fall on your face. I just wanted you to sit down.” Dean sort of smiled, then kept on with his search. “Besides, there’s always a way out.”
The guy hadn’t so much as flinched when Tony had been taking him into custody, but here and now he prowled like a tiger. Tony didn’t know what the hell was really going on (and frankly didn’t care much about the actual details); he was convinced that while Dean was nuttier than his Aunt Mabel’s carrot cake, his concern was still enough reason for Tony to have his own. It didn’t take a genius to note behavioral changes, and he’d always been decent at reading people. Underneath the exterior hard shell, Dean Winchester was nervous, and about more than just being locked up in a cage.
“I’m sure my team’s ready to bust through that door any minute now.”
“Yeah, well, no offense but I’m not going to hold my breath waiting for that.”
Tony didn’t point out it was a hell of a lot more likely that NCIS would find and release them than it was for a lone (he wanted to say younger) brother to do it. He also didn’t point out the bars on the cage were solid, the door was locked with thick chains and padlock and the vam…people had taken everything from them but their clothes. He knew Dean knew all of that, and had probably known it a minute after they’d been tossed in there. The guy had tenacity that he had to admire. Hell, if he had the energy, he’d probably be right there looking for that futile way out himself. Again.
“Why do you suppose she took the cuffs off you?” Tony said. “The way I see it, they had even more of an advantage with you incapacitated.”
“Maybe she’s not into bondage.” Dean banged a fist against the bars. “Actually, she kind of is.”
“You’d also think that if she’s got a bone to pick with you she wouldn’t just let you sit here. She looked the type who might enjoy bringing others pain.”
“Aren’t you just Mr. Happy Happy Sunshine?”
“I wonder where they are right now,” Tony said, ignoring Dean’s frustrated mutterings. “The two guys she’s with are pretty big and ugly.”
“For your sake, I hope they’re not hungry too.”
Again with the vampire talk. Wait, hungry could mean…actually, he hoped it was vampire talk. Tony closed his eyes, leaned his head against the wall again. He was tired, but kept in mind the blow to the head and the bout of unconsciousness he’d experienced. Dean kept moving around, ever searching. It was Gibbs all over again. He couldn’t wait to tell his boss he’d met a not so mini him. His thoughts wandered to the rest of the team. He thought about Abby doing her brainiac forensics thing, how it really had to be only a matter of time before they all figured it out. He couldn’t remember more than bits and pieces, but he was pretty sure being careful didn’t register as a concern with these deviants.
“Hey, don’t go to sleep on me now.”
“Not sleeping, just conserving energy,” Tony said. He opened his eyes a crack. “So what happens if they do get your brother? They’ll kill you for sure, probably me too.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Dean stood above him, looking menacing and vulnerable at the same time. “It isn’t going to happen. Sam’s good.”
“Yeah, well, no offense but I’m not going to hold my breath waiting for him to come get us out.”
“You don’t kno…”
The sound of the door opening halted Dean’s retort. Tony knew he shouldn’t have thrown that back at the guy. The brother seemed a bit of a hot button issue, and they were on the same side for the time being. Bickering wouldn’t help either of them. Prisoners needed solidarity. Tony had a very bad feeling as he watched Kate slink into the room, eyes predatory and cold. She could very well pass for a fox plotting to get into the coop, interested in devouring whatever she could, and damned if he suddenly wasn’t chicken. He glanced down at his bandaged arm. It was crazy, but he thought that if they actually were vampires, then the smell of dried blood was probably making them thirsty. He glanced down at his arm.
“Hello, boys. Didn’t think I’d leave you alone for long, did you?” she said. Neither he nor Dean replied. Kate shrugged indifferently. She looked back toward the door, calling, “It’s time for some fun.”
Oh, crap. It was apparently an invitation. The two hulks from before, Alex and Duane, lumbered into the room, as well as another woman. Tony scrabbled to his feet. Dean stiffened, prepping for a fight they couldn’t possibly win. Hell, he doubted they’d even have a shot at making it to the door. Tony wasn’t a defeatist, but he still felt a little shaky; he wasn’t going to be much help. He watched Dean carefully, perfectly willing to take direction from the guy. He was starting to think maybe Winchester wasn’t crazy.
“It was a mistake to uncuff me,” Dean growled. “I’m going to kill you.”
“Maybe it was, but I doubt you’ll kill me. Heather, the door.”
The other woman, slightly more petite than Kate, stepped forward and unlocked the door. Tony tightened his muscles, ready to make a break for it. Dean took a step, and then it was like the Bowman crime scene all over again. Three of their captors moved so fast Tony could barely register they had before one of the guys had him in a firm grip. He struggled to get out of the hold, to no avail. He felt hot, moist breath on his neck.
“Anh, Alex, not yet,” Kate said. “We need him to keep Dean in line.”
“Aww,” Alex said in his ear. “His blood’s pumping so fast.”
“Soon, I promise.”
Tony managed to look over at Dean, who was similarly held but was fighting hard, lunging in his direction. That was when he saw it. The other woman, Heather, moved in on Dean, pressing her body against his. God, she looked ready to molest him right there. She was molesting him in some perverse seduction routine. Tony noticed there was something wrong with her face. Her leering smile was…sharp. She lashed out and smacked Dean across the cheekbone, hard enough to draw blood. She must have rings on, Tony thought randomly. Then it got worse, because then she writhed close to him and licked the wound clean. Dean clenched his jaw, and his right eye twitched.
“I’m really not in the mood, honey,” Dean said.
Another backhand, more blood. More licking. Tony didn’t want to see any of the sick performance, but he couldn’t look away.
“Oh, god,” Tony moaned. Now he was sure Winchester wasn’t insane, but he wasn’t certain he wasn’t a bit touched himself. “What the fuck is this?”
Dean made eye contact with him, and Tony saw so many things in his eyes. Anger, regret, desperation. And then Kate stepped between him and Dean, blocking his view. He blinked, saw the silver glint of a knife. Saw her smile was sharp, too.
“This is a pre-dinner snack,” she said. She flicked the knife at him, and he couldn’t move enough to avoid being sliced across the chest. Tony gasped. Kate ripped at his shirt open. “Just relax. It doesn’t have to hurt. Much.”
“Leave him alone, Kate, it’s me you want. He doesn’t have anything to do with this,” Dean said, menace making his voice deep and commanding. Tony heard the slap of flesh against flesh again and then again, heard Dean groan. “Damnit.”
Kate ignored Dean completely. She leaned toward him, eyes intent on the bleeding cut on his chest. He felt her tongue swirl around it, and then she latched on and sucked. He closed his eyes, as if that could help him be somewhere other than there. The sensation of her suckling at his chest was painful, yet strangely erotic and he felt warmth flood him. Tony bucked weakly, and could not think of one single time in his life when he had been so frightened. She released him, finally, pulled back. He recoiled at the sight of his own blood on her lips.
“Now, Kate?” Alex said. “Please?”
“I need a word with Dean first,” she said, giving Tony a lecherous look. “Heather.”
And then Heather was in front of him. He could see Dean over the top of his new tormentor’s head, and it didn’t look good. He forgot about his own condition for a minute. Blood oozed from various places on Dean, small wounds but enough to make the guy appear shocky. Kate leaned and whispered something to Dean that got him moving again, but he’d been beaten enough that his fighting was ineffective. Duane pulled Dean’s head back. Tony watched with horror as the guy…monster…grew sharp teeth just like the women and sank them into Dean’s shoulder, sucked long enough for Dean to go slightly limp.
“Bring that one,” Kate said, pointing to him.
“No,” Dean said weakly. Duane released him, and he fell to the floor. “Don’t. Don’t.”
Tony was dragged out of the cell. The last thing he saw was Dean trying to crawl uncoordinatedly to the door before it closed.
~~*~~
“As soon as I pulled the this and saw the badge, I cleared the scene,” the ME said without preamble. She handed Gibbs a plastic-bagged wallet, and gave him a sympathetic grimace. “I knew you guys would want to take over. He didn’t have anything else on him, and the wallet’s been cleaned out. This was one hell of a messy mugging.”
Gibbs gave a cursory look at the badge and ID, like he expected a mistake to have occurred, that it wasn’t Tony’s. There was no such luck. Tony’s picture stared back at him, his face wearing that devil-may-care smile he always thought was so charming. It must have been; ID shots were supposed to be unsmiling. He handed the bag off to McGee, who looked like a lost puppy as he stared at it. Gibbs steeled himself and moved forward. He knew he had to be strong, not show how much this impacted him. He knew if he kept it up his team would as well, and he wasn’t ready to deal with their grief and anger on top of his own. He swore he’d track these bastards down and make sure they all got what they deserved.
The body was prone, but Gibbs recognized the suit as something Tony would definitely have in his closet, though one of the sleeves had been ripped off. To him, a suit wasn’t hard proof. It couldn’t be, no matter how it looked. Behind him, McGee choked a little and Gibbs scrabbled to retain his hope that this was all a mistake. It was like Kate all over again, the same horrible cold feeling set up house in his gut, that he’d failed to keep his people safe from harm. That he’d somehow failed to teach them all they needed to know to survive in this job, or in this world. It was ridiculous, because Kate and Tony had both known, had been excellent agents. He caught himself thinking of Tony in the past tense, clenched his jaw. He squatted down next to the body. The hair was the same. The suit, the hair, god, it really was DiNozzo.
“Damnit, Tony,” he whispered, too soft for anyone to hear. The person his words were directed to was beyond hearing anyway. He wiped a hand across his mouth. “I didn’t want it to be this way for you.”
“Boss?”
He stood up and glanced at his team, what was left of it. McGee had his eyes pinned on the body, and Ziva looked distant. Her nostrils flared slightly, and he knew she was as angry as he was. He glanced beyond them, saw the police milling around at the end of the alley and doing crowd control. They weren’t anywhere near the middle class neighborhood where Bowman lived; this was probably the morning entertainment for these people. At least they weren’t peeking through window curtains like they probably had at Bowman’s.
“McGee, you’re on photography. Ziva, start processing the alley. Make sure you bag everything.”
“Do you think…is that really Tony?” Ziva said, sounding not nearly as distant as she looked. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say she sounded as distressed as she did angry. There might be a human being in there somewhere after all, Gibbs thought. “I think I recognize his shoes.”
“Looks like it, but you know we can’t move the body until Ducky and Palmer are through.”
Truthfully, he himself clung to hope that it wasn’t Tony, as illogical as that was. He wasn’t ready to admit it might be. That it was Tony who lay there dead and bloody. McGee and Ziva moved around him robotically, on autopilot. They were trying hard to distance themselves the same way he did. Little did they know. Frankly, none of them should be on this case anymore. He almost wanted Fornell to storm NCIS and demand FBI jurisdiction. No, that wasn’t true, either. He had to get a grip. He surveyed the scene. Alleys were difficult to process.
“Boss, take a look at this.”
McGee stood by a dumpster, ten feet away, camera up and focused on the far end of it. He snapped a couple of shots. Gibbs and Ziva both joined him. Dark graffiti, fresh, stood out against the green painted receptacle. Another bloody message. Getting tired of waiting. Tick tock. K.
“Does that mean they’ve already taken someone else, or that they’ve moved along to another city?” McGee said thickly.
And now part of Gibbs wanted to find whomever these messages were for and make them pay for not being fast enough. It was insane and irrational, but he was pissed as hell and had no solid place to vent his frustration. Of course, it was as much his fault for being too slow as it was for the nameless, faceless person whom the killer was taunting. More, because it was his job to catch the bad guys. He turned his attention back to the body, to do just that. The MO with this was different, the first person found outside his or her home. He wondered how many of Tony’s last hours had been spent being tortured by sick bastards who just grew too impatient to do anything but kill him. They weren’t happy thoughts.
“I don’t know, McGee.”
That might actually be the worst thing about all of this: his own helplessness. He was good at mental puzzles, at finding a place for every piece, but in this he didn’t even have the border defined here. He really only needed one piece – the intended recipient of the messages would answer so many questions, a good place to start. The method of delivery was faulty if they weren’t intended for the police or NCIS. No one else would have access, and it sure as hell hadn’t been leaked to the press, here or in all other eight cases. He glanced at the end of the alley again, caught glimpses of all the onlookers. A tall figure at the edge of the crowd turned away quickly, floppy hair obscuring his face. Gibbs squinted. The flash of the camera drew Gibbs’ gaze back to the bloody words. He watched as Ziva took a swab for evidence.
“Oh, dear,” he heard behind him. Ducky.
“Oh, god,” came half a second later. Palmer.
Gibbs wasn’t sure if he was ready to watch Ducky perform his on scene examination, but he really didn’t have much of a choice. He moved to stand closer, but not close enough to hover. Ducky shot him a horrified, sympathetic look and started working without saying another word. There were no words for when a team member died. A friend, even, or as close to friendship as Gibbs would allow himself with those he worked with most closely. Tony was a pain in his ass, almost like a kid at times, but the potential to be an outstanding agent was there. Had been there. He watched, tried to keep himself detached emotionally, all the while thinking of the other things he should do right now. It wasn’t until Ducky and Palmer gently turned Tony over that his gut really tightened.
“Oh, Anthony,” Ducky murmured.
Tony’s face was gone. Mauled, a mess of blood and bone. Gibbs leaned down, rested his hands on his knees. He took several deep breaths, but none of them really settled the burning rage and sickness within him.
“The MO changed again,” Ziva said, her tone that same matter-of-fact one she possessed. For some reason, it pissed him off a little. “Why?”
“They’re demanding a confrontation. These may not be personal against the victims, but they are personal attacks against someone,” Ducky said. “Their behavior is erratic, irrational. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn at least one of them suffers a serious mental illness. The ringleader, perhaps.”
They already knew all that. What Gibbs needed was for something new, something genuinely useful to crop up. It might be too late for DiNozzo, but he could still attempt to dole out justice. All of the victims deserved for their killers to be caught, at the very least. And there could be someone else out there right now, suffering unimaginable things. He straightened and stepped away, let Ducky and Ziva conduct their speculative conversation, partly listening, mostly not.
The alley was a convenience drop, which meant it was likely their killers were based somewhere close by. That was more than he’d had to work with thus far. But it came too late. It was too late for Tony. Gibbs shook his head. The killers probably hadn’t taken the time to stage the scene, so there was a decent chance of gaining viable evidence. He needed to stop thinking about anything else but finding something that would put these people away.
“Ziva, we’ve got work to do,” he said, even though hashing things out was working. “Ducky?”
“The monsters,” Ducky said. “Multiple bite wounds, bruising, just like Petty Officer Bowman. He was tortured fast and hard, Gibbs. Poor Anthony’s final hours were not ones I would wish on my worst enemy.”
Oh, shit, he wanted Ducky to shut up. Ducky looked up, caught his eye and he could see realization creep into his expression, then regret. Gibbs swallowed a couple of times, shook his head slightly. He didn’t have the minutes to spare.
“Time of death?”
“I’d estimate it was between 0530 and 0630.”
“That was only a few hours ago. Someone could have seen something.”
Gibbs scanned the crowd at the far end of the alley again. He doubted anyone who’d seen a body dump would stick around. If they hadn’t alerted the cops, they probably weren’t interested in helping an investigation. In this neighborhood, it was better to stay out of the limelight. Still, it was a place to start. There were also a lot of people. He waved Ziva toward one end of the crowd, while he walked toward the other. He needed to speak with the lead officer, find out who had called it in; maybe he was wrong about them sticking around. He was tired of questions leading only to more questions, and having an actual person to speak to might get some bona fide answers. His phone rang before he tracked down the officer.
“Gibbs.”
“Is it true?” Abby’s raspy voice said. He looked up at the sky, dreading having to tell her. “Is Tony…?”
“It looks that way, Abs,” he said gently.
“Oh, no.” She sounded broken, like he felt on the inside. “Oh, Gibbs.”
“I’m going to find these bastards.”
“I know you are. We are. I can’t believe Tony’s gone.”
“I know,” he said. He could feel over the phone how much she needed to hug him at the moment. He had to admit he felt a hug might do him some good as well. “We’ll see you in a while, okay, Abs? We’ve got more for you to work with now.”
“Okay.” She paused. “But there was another reason I called.”
“What is it?”
“It’s not good.” Nothing could be worse than Tony’s disfigured body. “Someone got into the lab. I don’t know how or even when, since I’ve been here round the clock, but they took pieces of evidence. I’m sorry, Gibbs. I screwed up big time.”
Gibbs took a deep breath. He was wrong. There was something worse than seeing Tony dead – it was having evidence that might help convict these killers go missing. Tampering led to questioning credibility. When he finally caught them, they’d probably go free. Damnit. People didn’t just break into Abby’s lab. Hell, they didn’t get into the building without jumping through hoops, and not everyone had the access to get to certain areas of the building. Certain areas like her lab. A guest pass wouldn’t get a person very far, and never without an escort. He clenched his jaw and looked back at Ducky and Palmer working grimly. It was like he couldn’t look away.
“What did they get?” he said.
“The gun and the knife from the Bowman scene.”
“Nothing else?” He frowned. “They didn’t try to tamper with anything?”
“Yeah. Uhm. They took some of the blood samples.” Shit, whatever case they had for Bowman was now gone. All the test results in the world wouldn’t matter. Gibbs clenched his jaw tightly and counted to ten. “I already checked for prints. Everywhere. There aren’t any.”
“You checked the surveillance tapes, right?”
“I’m doing that right now, Gibbs.”
“Call me when you know more.”
“I’m really sorry. I don’t know how…”
“Abby,” he said, calm despite the anger that filled him. He wasn’t angry with her, much; it wasn’t her fault. He was angry about everything else, and the last person he ever wanted to take all of his frustrations out on was Abby. “It’s okay. You’ve got the prints from the scene logged, and the photos, and the results from the blood samples. There wasn’t much there anyway, nothing useable or it wouldn’t have gotten this f…never mind. The weapons weren’t used and the blood was probably already compromised. I doubt any of it would have broken the case.”
“Gibbs, you shouldn’t be nice to me. You should fire me.”
“I don’t have the power to fire you, and I wouldn’t if I did.” Frankly, he hoped he’d be able to prevent that obvious ramification. This was big. He knew it, and Abby knew it. “We’ll deal with the consequences later. Work on re-building whatever case we’ve got with materials that haven’t been tainted, and whatever we get from this scene. I need you more focused than ever.”
“I’ll try,” she said softly, “to not think about Tony.”
“Yeah, me too.”
He hung up abruptly, resisted the urge to drop the cell phone onto the ground and stomp it into a million pieces. Missing evidence, no matter how irrelevant or circumstantial, would reflect poorly when they caught the killers and prosecuted them. Or killed them. It wasn’t like Abby to leave things unattended, which…his brain started finding the outside edge of the puzzle. The killers wouldn’t be so bold as to break into a government facility, so whoever had done it…and he admitted he was probably reaching…had been the person the messages were for. He flashed to the nervous man he’d run into at the office, at the elevators, and then to the tall figure in the gawker crowd who’d turned away just a few minutes ago. The stature, the hair, the furtiveness were all the same. There was no way it was coincidence that this person kept showing up.
“Son of a bitch,” he said.
A quick perusal of the crowd showed the guy was long gone.
~~*~~
Carry on to part five
Dum-dum-dummmmmm. ;)
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-04-22 06:14 pm (UTC)You are a cruel, cruel woman.
;p
no subject
Date: 2007-04-22 09:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-22 06:42 pm (UTC)Hanging.
Off a cliff.
Again.
:-)
~ Erin
no subject
Date: 2007-04-22 09:53 pm (UTC)Sorry?
I'm a big fan of cliffhangers. ;)
no subject
Date: 2007-04-22 10:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-23 05:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-22 10:18 pm (UTC)Fantastic chapter. Love that Tony still didn't quite believe him.
*hugs the NCIS team*
no subject
Date: 2007-04-23 05:28 pm (UTC)And, oh, MAN I love that icon. I need more Tony icons.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-23 05:50 am (UTC)Great job, Can't wait for more. Your voices are very dead on.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-23 05:31 pm (UTC)Uhm.
Oh, right, thank you! Sorry, got horribly distracted there. I don't know how.
Gah ...
Date: 2007-04-23 06:37 am (UTC)I don't watch much NCIS, but from what I've seen, you got the dynamics down very well. Fantastic.
*am waiting patiently on the floor for next installment*
-Labseraph
Re: Gah ...
Date: 2007-04-23 05:32 pm (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2007-04-23 07:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-23 05:33 pm (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2007-04-23 01:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-23 05:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-02-12 07:03 am (UTC)And oh, the team, thinking Tony's gone, that just *hurts*....
Love. This. So. Much.