NCIS 1. Discovery

_**A/N: well here it is, my new story and a lot sooner than I had anticipated. **_

_**I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.**_

_**DISCLAIMER: All I wanted for Christmas was NCIS, NCIS, NCIS**_

_** All I wanted for Christmas was NCIS but he's not real so my wish didn't come true (lol)  
**_

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Abducted

Chapter 1: Discovery

Leroy Jethro Gibbs spoke into the wireless microphone that was placed discreetly on the cuff of his NCIS issued jacket. He and his team of agents had narrowed down on this location as a potential hideout for a murderer. After a week of deliberation trying to track the man down, always keeping three steps ahead of the FBI, Gibbs and his team had managed to locate the target through hard work and tenacity.

"On my mark…"

Replies came back in through the sound equipment imbedded in his ear, informing the Lead Agent that his team was as ready as they would ever be.

"In position, Boss."

"Ready, Gibbs."

The nerves were inevitable in this type of situation. Even though he had been doing this for so long now that he had forgotten the mistakes that could be made, it didn't make this time any different, or any less dangerous as any other time. Adrenaline fueled the need to get this over and done with but the experience he held under his belt calmed him enough that patience would result. Taking a breath or two, he counted in his head as the chemical reaction in his brain slowed to a stream as opposed to the gushing river that could take over.

Swallowing again to calm his heart to try and stem the adrenaline pulsing through his veins, Gibbs gripped the handle of the front door of the abandoned farmhouse.

"Alright. GO!"

The order was given. The three entrances of the dilapidated building were simultaneously entered, the front door, a side sliding glass door that had shards of glass falling from it and thirdly the back door, a flimsy piece of basic plywood. The Federal Agents wielded their guns for protection and harnessed a sense of urgency required in situations such as these.

Gibbs had the front door. He kicked the maple door in, flinching slightly as pain pierced up his leg from the effort. Hobbling into the centre of the abandoned house in the middle of South Gate, Gibbs kept his eyes open. His body was pressed hard against the wall as he followed behind the standard issue Sig that cleared his path. He crept quietly and efficiently down the narrow hall, displaying the years of experience as he covered the few metres to the first threshold. Gibbs held his breath as he swung his body around the one hundred and eighty degrees to make sure that nothing was coming his way from the other side of the wall. He could hear voices echoing through from a central point of the building. With more force and determination, he quietly put one foot in front of the other as he closed in on what appeared to be an enclosed living room.

Gibbs laid eyes on his fellow team members, holding his finger to his lips in a quieting motion, an order that was deftly followed as they realized there were other voices in the building. They were muffled by old granite walls and asbestos. Motioning with two fingers for two of his agents to fall back and cover the second exit of the central room in the house, Gibbs took heed and held the door knob gently and started turning it as softly as possible. He had a quick glance through the gap in the door as far as he could see. He could still hear voices and a groan, and Gibbs whispered once again to enter on his mark.

"One, two, GO!"

The agents burst into the small living room if that is what it could be called. The enclosed space was dark, rank and inhabitable. The walls were stained with blood. The light in the ceiling was blown. The little bit of light that was in the room only entered through the doors which Gibbs and his team had stormed through. An old fashioned tape recorder lay to the side of the room, playing recorded voices in a repetitive motion, causing Gibbs to realize that no one was actually in the room. A movie projector sat idly by on an old-fashioned telephone stand, a projection screen opposite it in brilliant white. In the middle of the room sat a wooden chair. It was well worn but sturdy, backed up by the fact that on the piece of furniture sat a body. Their wrists were tied securely to the straight and narrow armrests, their ankles tied to the legs in what appeared to be an uncomfortable and compromising position. The bladder had been evacuated as though the person had not been allowed civil rights to use the bathroom when they needed. A smell of rotting flesh permeated the air as the blood that covered the walls held a central point of where the body was situated. There was no movement. There was no sound.

Pressing stop on the tape player caused an ominous stillness about the room, an evil reverie. Gibbs and his team observed slight movement from the captive as shallow breaths came and went. Dear God, they were alive! The head drooped down so that their chin was sitting on their chest, possibly the cause of the hindered breathing. Blood had dried in their hair, assumedly from a blow to the head. The blood that had oozed out of the wound was old considering it was now dry, causing their hair to have a feint red tinge and for it to stick against their face. That was the only obvious sign of injury although with the rest of the blood splattered across the walls, almost in a slashing motion, there was a very high probability of more damage. The person was male, the checkered shirt they were wearing torn to shreds. The pants they wore were jeans, torn at the knee with more dried blood at the sights. On closer inspection, more wounds were evident, a large gash straight down the spine the more worrisome. Blood trickled from the ear of the person central to this place of torture. Gibbs dropped his weapon, knowing that his team still held theirs in position as he went to check for a pulse.

Gibbs snuck forward, side-stepping gently across the dulled carpet. Reaching a hand against the neck of the person sitting there, a groan was heard to escape the throat, startling all in the room. Gibbs had confirmed what he already suspected.

"Quick, he's still alive! Get Ducky in here now!"

An agent ran out the door at the back of the room, leaving the other agents together to try and figure out what had caused this person to be left in this ungodly manner.

Gibbs looked impatiently towards the door in the hope that his Chief Medical Examiner would be here soon so that he could start untying the poor individual.

"B-Boss?"

The voice was weak and scratchy, probably from not having any water for a while. Gibbs barely heard the word, turning quickly and regarding his other agent, asking the question of whether that had come from them. With the shake of their head, Gibbs approached the body again, kneeling down awkwardly to get a better look at the face of the victim.

Gibbs nearly froze, fighting the need to throw up.

Gently Gibbs placed his hand on the face that was so uncomfortably positioned and gently lifted it so that he could get a better look.

"DiNozzo?"

Tony's eyes were glazed over, barely registering that there was another person in the room. His eyes quickly shut, probably due to the possible concussion that would have been caused by the head trauma. Gibbs held Tony's head in his hands, supporting its weight. Tony had black circles under his eyes as though he hadn't slept for days, his face pale and thin. The usual grin was missing from his lips and large amounts of swelling were apparent across his jaw-line.

At that moment, Ducky came in followed by Jimmy, both carrying medical supplies and gloved up, ready for action.

"Alright Jethro, what have we here."

Ducky was not focusing on the person seated stiffly in the chair, instead going through his medical supplies looking for gauze to clean up some of the blood that was dried to certain parts of the victim. It was only when Gibbs had not responded to Ducky's query that the elderly Medical Examiner raised his head to look at what had stunned the Team Leader in to silence. Ducky's eyes met Tim's and grew wide as he realized in horror that the victim sitting across from him was their own Anthony, the fun-loving, movie quoting, lady seducing Senior Field Agent of Team Gibbs.

"I thought he was…"

Gibbs nodded absently as he turned to look at the other two members of the team, slowly conveying the needs that were required; paramedics were a first priority followed by gloves, bags and tags, shooting, sketching, the whole shebang! Gibbs swallowed hard as he tried to talk to Tony.

"Tony? Can you tell us how you got here?"

Still having his head supported, the Senior Field Agent re-opened his eyes, finding it difficult to focus on the face in front of him. Mixes of grey and blue swirled in front of him as the colours mixed in an odd familiarity.

Tim stood behind the pair, watching as Tony tried to regain consciousness. He had his PDA available and waiting to take the answer that Tony was going to offer to Gibbs' question. What neither he, nor anyone else in the room had expected was the reaction Tony gave Gibbs the minute he realized who was in the room with him.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Tony thrashed violently against the hands that were on his face, trying with all his might to get away from the man opposite him. Forcibly, the chair supporting the damaged body scraped along the dull carpet, leaving no sound but almost causing the victim to fall backwards with the effort.

"Tony, hey… hey, Tony…"

Gibbs crept forward, his hand looking to grab Tony's shoulder to try and calm the panicked man. The closer Gibbs got the more agitated Tony became, causing the older man to rise to his full height, intimidating the already distraught agent.

"Stop it! Get away from me!"

Gibbs was at a loss for what to say. Instead he placed his hand above Tony's head looking to slap the back of it. He was stopped forcefully by Ducky's own. Gibbs turned his steely blue eyes towards the Scotsman questioning his motives.

"Uh-uh Jethro, we don't know what the damage is and we don't want to cause any more harm to the boy."

Gibbs was taken aback. This meant that he would have to use his words. He didn't like that idea at all.

Gibbs placed his hand on Tony's arm, trying to reassure the man opposite him that it was really him that was in the room. With the gentle touch, Tony's breathing seemed to escalate. Gibbs tried to make sure that Tony was looking him straight in the eye when he asked his questions. Tony's body was shaking with a force that it looked as though he might explode but Gibbs recognized it for what it was once he locked onto the eyes of the Italian – Tony was scared.

Letting go of the younger man's arm, Gibbs became startled as Tony seemed to calm more away from his touch. That wasn't how it was meant to work. Tony always calmed down when he knew Gibbs was near. This time he seemed to have the opposite reaction and Gibbs didn't know what to do with that so he gently started untying the man to allow him to understand that he meant no harm.

Tony shook with fear as the ropes were severed, not understanding what was happening. How was this even possible? Tony didn't know what was going on. He tried lifting his head but exhaustion seemed to overcome him every time he tried. It had to be a hallucination. This couldn't be real.

Ziva and Tim went to work, both stealing glances in each others direction at Tony's reaction to Gibbs. It didn't make any sense. They seemed to be releasing him, but Tony's reaction was that of fear not relief of being rescued. They hadn't even known that Tony was missing and the guilt cut through all of them as that realization dawned. It would have been Tony's worst nightmare come true – he would have died no one having missed him.

Ziva walked over to where Gibbs was still trying to cut through the thick rope that was tied around the limbs of the younger man, getting more and more worried as Tony seemed to flinch away the closer Gibbs came to releasing him from his predicament. Ziva having watched the exchange placed her hand on Gibbs' taking the knife away from him. She continued to cut through the rope quickly and efficiently, watching all the while at the look on Tony's face. His breathing was slowing down and he seemed to have relaxed a bit once there had been a changing of the guard.

At a loss for what to do, Gibbs grabbed the bags that Ziva had been collecting evidence with and let her try and talk to Tony while he took over her position, taking photos of the scene before him.

Ziva stroked Tony's arm in an attempt to calm him as Ducky and Palmer cut through the last of the blood-soaked ropes that were tied around his ankles. Tony seemed to become more skittish now that he was free from the confines of the chair. Ziva, using a steady, calm and soothing voice, once again asked Tony the question that Gibbs had.

"Tony? Can you tell us how you got here?"

Smiling at the request of the pretty young thing opposite him, Tony sat up straighter and looked towards Gibbs, fear oozing from his being as the man he had once regarded as a father went about the task of bagging and tagging the remains of the rope.

"I don't know." Tony slowly grew angrier, his breathing getting more prominent with each thought and memory that attacked his being.

"Ask him."

As Tony said those words, his head flicked in Gibbs' direction. Gibbs stared at the man as though they were complete strangers. Tony was staring at the floor watching as the last of the ropes were severed. Gibbs walked slowly towards the man, trying to close the gap but even the slightest motion in Tony's direction was causing the younger man to react defensively. Gibbs eyes held a loss that went unnoticed by everyone except his old friend. Ducky came up to Jethro and placed his arm on his friend's shoulder, whispering into his ear.

"Maybe the hit to his head has caused memory loss. Maybe he can't remember who you are."

Ducky was surprised when Tony interrupted that train of thought.

"I know exactly who you of all are, Ducky. You are the almighty Team Gibbs."

His words were laced with sarcasm.

"You are the head Medical Examiner for NCIS. Ziva David, over there, is a probationary agent even though she has been on the team for over four years. She escaped from a terrorist cell in September with the help of _Team Gibbs_. Little Timmy there, he is the Elf Lord of the crew, doing any search possible with the swift motion of his fingers. I am, _was_, the longest standing member of the team with nine years under my belt of following orders and getting head slapped around. I thought they were love taps. This week has opened my eyes. Obviously I am no longer required on _Team Gibbs_."

Holding his eyes wide with shock, Ducky looked towards his friend, unable to explain the behavior regarding Gibbs presence.

Gibbs, having walked around to get a better look at the injuries on Tony's back, just stared a hole in to the back of his head instead. Gibbs was at a complete loss for what to say or do to make it better.

Tony sat still, watching the footsteps of the team as they processed the scene. Tim apologized as he took Tony's photo several times from different angles. Gibbs crouched down on his haunches, trying to catch Tony's line of sight. Eerily, Tony stared the man squarely in the eye, not blinking and showing just how much anger lay behind those eyes.

Gibbs opened his mouth and closed it again, still at a loss for what to say. Tony did not have the same problem.

"I don't want to see you ever again. You hear me?"

Gibbs swallowed hard, stood back up and stood glued to spot. With nothing more to say, Gibbs gently placed the evidence bags on the telephone stand that held the projector and slowly walked out the door. He figured that distancing himself from Tony would help the other's get the answers they so desperately needed.

Four lost looks followed Gibbs slumped form as he exited the confined space, all of them just as confused as the man that walked through the threshold. Glancing at each other, the rest of the team got to work processing the room while Jimmy helped Tony onto the gurney. The paramedics came through the door, attending to the injured man within.

Gibbs stood out in the fresh air, distantly looking back towards the house, inhaling the cool country air that surrounded him. Gibbs was never at a loss for what to do or say, especially when it came to Tony. He shook his head at the unfathomable events that had just occurred, unsure of what their next move would be.

"What do you think I did to you, Tony?"

Gibbs asked the question of the dying sunlight that was quickly disappearing across the dew covered paddock. Gibbs hoped that they figured it out or he would have lost one of the most precious things in his life.

Gibbs sighed and shook his head, closing his eyes away from the reality.

He wouldn't be able to lose something so valuable to him – not again.

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_**A/N: Thoughts and feelings on this one would be great. I'm still a bit unsure on whether this will be worth following up but please let me know what you think.**_

_**Sal**_


	2. BackTracking

**_A/N: Holy crap! you guys are awesome and the response I got was completely unexpected. Thank you to all of you for your alerts, reviews, and favourites. To the anon reviewers that I can't reply to personally, thank you for your votes of confidence and your kind words._**

**_As for this chapter we have a few questions answered, some more getting asked and I hope you will let me know what you think.  
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Chapter 2: Back-Tracking**

_**Three months earlier:**_

Tony strolled into the bullpen smack bang on 0700. He was sure he would have been the last one to arrive only to find that the only other person in the vicinity was Gibbs. He was staring at the plasma which showed the morning news. It was Friday and Tony was off to Vegas and no one, not even Gibbs, was going to stop him. He was going to embark on his usual yearly pilgrimage at the end of the day where he would be accompanied by a few college buddies, all of them looking to lose their money and get wasted during a week of debauchery and sin.

Putting his gun, his badge and his keys into the top draw of his desk, Tony walked around to stand behind Gibbs who had yet to acknowledge that the Senior Field Agent had got to work. The newscaster was talking about an escaped prisoner that after a week, no one had any new information. The search was getting desperate for former Marine, Jeremy James Playford.

"The prisoner is highly trained and highly capable of using any weaponry available to him."

"HEY! Slacks' on the telly, Boss!"

Tony's grin was met by an unimpressed glare. As his arms were folded, Tony gave Gibbs a gentle shove with his elbow, to back the motion of addressing that FBI agent Sacks, Fornell's underling in the FBI chain, was on the morning news. The statement was ignored as Gibbs took in the picture that had been displayed on the screen.

"The latest information we have received on Playford was that he was seen driving away from the prison in Warden Richard Tomlin's Blue GMV sedan. He was spotted on west bound cameras on the Anacostia and was lost in the traffic of Washington."

"Any person who comes into contact with Playford is not to approach him as he is deemed dangerous and a high threat to any civilian."

A phone number of where people could call was displayed across the bottom of the screen. Tony knew that the FBI obviously had no more leads and were relying on the public eye to try and locate the dangerous man. The image of Playford was again displayed on the screen. His hair was scruffy, short and unkempt. He was clean shaven, showing the square set of his jaw line. His eyes were slightly too wide apart and his nose was wide and flat. He was Caucasian, about six foot four, extremely fit and was last seen in prison orange.

Gibbs hadn't looked away from the screen and behind Tony, his other team mates, Ziva and Tim had arrived and stood with their back packs still slung across their shoulders. As the news reader trailed away onto other news concerning three missing people, Gibbs turned to his team, finally regarding that they had arrived and, for once were on time.

Looking at his team, Gibbs saw them looking back at the television. When Gibbs stood, his face entering their lines of sight, Tony, Tim and Ziva looked panicked all of a sudden. They went back to their desks and started typing up the work for the case they had been working the last fortnight. A missing petty officer was abducted from her parents home in Maryland, no clue and no note as to who took her or why. The last lead they had was that her ex-boyfriend was devastated that she had broken it off because she had found someone else. It had turned out that he had an air tight alibi for the night she had gone missing.

Gibbs grinned slightly, mainly because of the power he still held over his team. Turning back towards the plasma, Gibbs became engulfed by memories, his smile disappearing.

_The year was 1999. Gibbs had been leading his team for close to two years, Mike having disappeared down Mexico way. There had been no word from the former Special Agent. Gibbs didn't mind. He loved the job and what it entailed. Mike had obviously had enough. Gibbs thrived on the act of being responsible for bringing people to their just desserts. He also thrived on the safety and commitment from his team. He had been referred his current two members, both on high recommendations from higher places. Gibbs took it all in his stride, willing to please and aiming to achieve. _

_The FBI had been working the case of four missing girls in the vicinity of Fort Mahan Park. All of the young women were aged between eighteen and twenty-four. It wasn't until the third victim had gone missing that a pattern was discernible amongst the victims. They all had a head wound, but it had not been the cause of death. Ducky had said that the gashes across their backs had been the evidence of a week or so of torture. The most disturbing bit about the whole scenario was that all the girls had been killed with such precision that it was hard to consider them murders. All of the victims appeared to have taken their own lives. _

_NCIS had been called in once the FBI had found no other leads except for that of a Navy suspect. FBI Agent Tobias Fornell had enlisted the help after much deliberation and pride swallowing. Gibbs and Fornell had crossed each others paths on occasion but had never been required to work together. The discovery of the Marine had meant trying to find information was made harder due to the fact they couldn't access NCIS' files. They had no choice but to cooperate with the bottom end of the food chain. _

_Fornell's cocky attitude irked Gibbs, so much so that Gibbs had made a point to close this one, proving that the FBI were nothing but fielding backs, while Gibbs and his team were the quarterback. This one was going to be airtight. Whoever did this was not going to get away. It all was going to be done the Gibbs way, by the book and no FBI wannabe was going to stop that from happening. _

_Fornell just wanted it over with so that he could get away from the jock demeanor of NCIS. Blackadder was alright but, after all, she had only just recently defected across from the FBI. Fornell liked her. She had spunk. She was still a little green about the gills but all in all she seemed to be a good agent._

_John Cameron had a few more years under his belt than Blackadder. He had been transferred over by Director Morrow himself. Morrow's recommendation was that Gibbs was to take the young agent under his wing and show him all there is to know about being an NCIS agent. Cameron's knowledge and contacts were expansive, ranging from the Assistant Director of the CIA to the head parliamentary aid of the Prime Minister of England. This made him a valuable asset, even if he were Director Morrow's nephew. Gibbs didn't have time for pussy footing around so he just showed the ropes to the young agent and prayed that he was quick enough to understand them without hesitation._

Tony watched as Gibbs still stared at the plasma, worry etched between the lines across his forehead. To the outside observer, Gibbs was taking in every detail to keep a look out for the guy. Tony knew better. There was something hidden in the face of the man that was the closest thing he had to a Dad. There was so much mutual respect between the two men that often a glance and an unspoken sentence sounded volumes of praise and confidence. It also entailed the other to know when the slightest bit of annoyance or worry was illustrated in a distant look. This was one of those steely masks that Tony had come to know and more often than not, the feeling for that particular look did not bode well, for anyone. Gibbs always seemed confident, always self-assured but only an investigator with nine years backing up this particular man would know when it was a time to worry that Gibbs was right and which times to take with a grain of salt.

This, unfortunately, was one of the times to take seriously and also when you hoped that Gibbs was wrong.

Gibbs was not wrong very often.

Watching the Lead Agent across the bullpen, Tony sat back down in his chair, attempting to ignore the little voice in his head saying that Gibbs knew something that the Italian didn't. Ziva and Tim had failed to note the intensity between the two men, Tony worrying what was going to go wrong while he was away, Gibbs wondering if letting Tony go was such a good idea. Both men knew that something was going down. The problem was that neither would be close to the other for a week. Tony and Gibbs both suddenly felt a sense of dread as that thought came into fruition. They both suddenly didn't want the younger man to go away for a week. Tony could not imagine anyone else watching his six, Gibbs couldn't help but think this trip was not going to go as planned. Gibbs had always been there in some way, shape or form to back Tony up. He never doubted the ability or the respect that they both held each other in but somehow dread was starting to invade that space of quiet confidence and comfort.

Getting back to his work, Tony hoped that the rest of the day would be quiet, although with a bit more of a hesitation than he had previously when he walked into the squad room. The team worked quietly and diligently, two of the four hoping that the callout line would remain quiet for the rest of the day. Tony was almost praying for a case, Gibbs likewise. If they got a case before Tony was to leave on his week long vacation, he would not be allowed to leave and would instead have to remain behind – leaving Las Vegas to the mercy of his former frat brothers.

Unluckily for Tony, he got his wish as the day didn't hold much as far as action went. It was all filing paper work and tying up loose ends and as five in the afternoon rolled closer second by second, Gibbs found himself looking towards his desk phone in the quiet hope that it would ring any moment now. Tony was almost stunned that nothing had eventuated in the ten hour period. Trying to jinx himself, Tony stared at the slow ticking hand on the clock opposite him on the wall. Each tick seemed to slow the closer to five it got. He felt like he was back in school waiting for the final term bell to sound before summer holidays started. Summer always held the same sense of foreboding for him as much as this did. The flight he had booked out of IAD, wasn't until eleven that night. That meant he had a bit of time to finish off the little bit of packing he had laid out on his bed. He thought, if he was done by seven, he could have a half decent meal before the shuttle car he had booked would arrive to drive him to Dulles. Suddenly, staying at home didn't seem like such a bad idea.

The minute hand sat on the fifty-ninth minute, the second hand was making its final approach. Tony was actually going to be able to leave on time, and he wished for the shrill ring of Gibbs phone to pierce the silence. If that happened he would have to reschedule his flight so that he would meet up with his buddies in Vegas later in the week. The phone never rang. Tony's disappointment was expertly hidden.

Gibbs still had the news playing behind him on the plasma, the sound silenced. The man had hardly moved from his chair all day, accomplishing little but consuming too many cups of coffee and several visits to the head. Tim and Ziva were elated to find out that their Friday had consisted of nothing more than simple desk duties, in order to create airtight cases so that whoever was guilty didn't escape what ever conviction they justly deserved. Tony stood slowly, packing up the last of his items, throwing them into his bag with as much care as a Greek Groom at the plate smashing ceremony. Tony was out of there. He looked longingly at the phone on his superior's desk but still the call never came.

Gibbs raised his head in the direction of his Agent as he watched him pack the last of his things away. The new steaming cup of thick brew sat idly by his side, making him drool with the expectancy of bitterness and goose bumps. Making sure that his desk was tidy, his computer was switched off and there was no evidence of prank playing that may or may not have happened while Gibbs had gone out for his lunchtime coffee, Tony finally switched off his desk lamp, taking in one last glance towards his Boss' work station. The two men locked on each others gaze, Tony breaking out into a grin as a way of asking permission to leave. Gibbs reacted with a smirk of his own, the smile on Tony's face getting wider if that were at all possible. As Gibbs looked away, he missed the smile as it faltered, unsure of what it wanted.

"Thanks Boss."

The words were simple, the lack of sincerity lost on deaf ears. Gibbs ignored the rest of his team as Ziva and Tim started packing up their few miscellaneous items. Neither of them saw the look of worry on the face of the Lead Agent as he watched Tony become engulfed by the main elevator.

Tony's smile was replaced by a gulp of fear as the doors shut. He was off to Vegas and no one not even Gibbs was going to stop him.

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It was nearing close to midnight. Gibbs was just signing off on the final reports that had been handed in regarding the missing girl. With no more leads to follow, the trail was dead and was put as an aside for another day.

Gibbs stretched his aching joints, popping and creaking as the movement brought feeling back into his extremities, his toes and fingers mainly. He placed the file on top of all of the other reports, thinking that some time off over the weekend might do his team good. A week without DiNozzo was going to be great, peace and quiet and the silence would bring productivity. Gibbs smiled only briefly as the feeling he had earlier invaded his area, worse and more intense.

The only light left on in the abandoned office was Gibbs desk lamp and the flickering of the plasma behind him. The fluorescent blue caused shadows to dance on the floor as the motion caught the Lead Agent's eyes. Turning around to the television, Gibbs found himself reaching for the volume control as images of burned wreckage in a paddock somewhere flickered across the screen. As the volume slowly increased, Gibbs heard the newscaster as he stared at the image, taking in all the information he could.

"…If you are just joining us, there has been a plane crash outside of Blue Ridge, Missouri. As you can see on your screens, there is devastation everywhere as fire crews are struggling to extinguish the burning wreckage. We're also getting reports through now of no survivors. There is an unofficial announcement that there are no survivors."

Gibbs just stared at the information flashing before him in visions of Technicolor and disaster. He couldn't help the thought that crossed his mind.

Turning back around, Gibbs started looking through his desk draw. He pushed his way through staples, acetone, chewing gum and paper clips. His hand located the piece of paper it was searching for, a pale green itinerary was folded up and out of sight. Tony had given it to him saying that the rest of the team had said they didn't want it. Gibbs knew, however, that he had been the first one that Tony had asked.

Unfolding the folio, Gibbs disregarded the inconsequential information to find the basics he needed. Reaching across for his glasses, Gibbs failed to open them up rather reading through them while holding them to his eyes.

**Anthony DiNozzo**

**United Flight 796.**

_Leaving: Dulles International Airport (IAD) at 23:07_

_Arriving: McCarran International Airport (LAS) at 01:20_

Gibbs stared at the document, taking in all of the information, reading it and re-reading it again and again. A voice interrupted his thoughts and he stared back towards the screen.

"This just in. We have received confirmation that there are no survivors. We repeat, we have a confirmed report that there are no survivors on United Flight 796."

Gibbs stared at the screen, utter disbelief written across his face. This was proof. He had heard it with his own ears, felt it in his own stomach. That was the flight that Tony was on. The broadcaster had said it and Gibbs had heard it. He stared dumbfounded at the screen as all sound disappeared around him. He felt sick. He felt overwhelmed, he felt… lost.

Gibbs sat back down in his office chair and absent mindedly stared across at the darkened desk diagonally opposite him. The reality sunk in slowly and then all at once, refusing almost immediately to accept it. He just couldn't gather his thoughts. He had just been told that he would never again see that inane grin. The movie quotes, Magnum P.I. references, they all disappeared in the second he had put that clue together. There would be no more super-gluing McGee to things. The American Pie Coffee Mug would go to Palmer, Duck would finally get his hands on that, what was it, Atom Ant Stapler? And Ziva would take his letter opener. Gibbs thought he might seek permission to keep the man's badge. It was the least he could do.

Gibbs eyes returned distantly to the bad news in front of him, reaffirming that he had heard correctly and that the facts were true. As it started to hit home, Gibbs could start to feel the sting of his tears hitting his eyes. A sniffle escaped from the Lead Agent and he fought with every intention to not cry, not for Tony. He couldn't cry for Tony because Tony would be ashamed. No tears from this Marine, he decided. With that thought, the ex-gunnery Sergeant stood up and turned off his lamp, leaving the empty room to continue watching Tony's last moments alive, almost as though turning it off would mean that Gibbs would have to admit that his eldest boy was really gone.

Gibbs wasn't ready for that reality and he slowly dragged himself to the lift, thinking that his Senior Field Agent would be back in a week to laugh at the massive practical joke he had managed to pull over everybody.

That's what he would tell himself for now, because if he didn't, Tony would be really gone and that was something that Gibbs could not face again.

The metal doors swallowed the older man, closing in a brief moment. They hid the lone tear that rolled down his cheek and soaked into the carpet, the last tear the Leroy Jethro Gibbs would shed. No one else was going to die on him. Not without his permission.

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_**A/N: I would like to mention that the inspiration for Gibbs wanting Tony's badge comes from another story, Reactions by amber-chick. I love it and I thought I would put it in as a homage to the story! No copy right intended.**_

_**I hope you all like this chapter and it lives up to what you want. **_

_**Sal**_


	3. Memories to Try and Forget

_**A/N: I am so sorry for the wait on this one, its a complicated explanation which involves two computers and a usb drive (seriously do not ask lol) but it's here now and hopefully the wait was worth it. **_

_**Just another thing, if you want to know what is happening with the story, I do periodic updates on my profile which will let you know how things are going, especially if I don't get an update up within a fortnight. Thought I'd let you out there know :)**_

_**Once again, thanks to everyone for reviews and alerts and favourites. You all outdid yourselves again and I am so pleased that so many of you are taking the time to let me know your thoughts on my writing. It is extremely and utterly appreciated!**_

_**Ok, enough rambling... ON WITH THE ANGST!!!

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Chapter 3: Memories to Try and Forget

**Present Day:**

Tony sat quietly in his hospital room, the fluorescent lights offering a miniscule hum of irritation rather than relief. The smell of bleach attacked his nostrils as did the stench of death that he had scarily, become accustomed to. He wanted to go home, to his own bed, to his own apartment. After that, he would look into a transfer – effective immediately. That was if he passed his psyche eval.

His mind was left to travel, left to its own devices. He remembered the room, that dark little room, no natural light, just the voice, _his voice_...

He silently disciplined himself. He physically shook his head to rid himself of the memories. He had to regroup.

Nothing could make this better, not even the sun that was filtering through his room, his white, bright, clean smelling room. Even though it seemed as though the outside world was trying to warm him up, Tony drew the blanket that was wrapped around his torso tighter. He had been issued with the standard hospital garb, a pale blue apron with a hole in the back. He had none of his own clothes. They had all been sent off for processing. Nothing or no one was with him allowing the painful memories to invade his personal being. He stared absently at the little piece of plastic that identified him as Anthony DiNozzo. His eyes only saw the ropes, the ropes that had been cut from his wrist, time and time again which lead to the… the…

He internally berated himself again as he forced himself to think of happier thoughts, of more positive thoughts but the pain could stay. It was permitted to stay. He had watched as the intern has cut away the rotting flesh from his wrists, washing the skin where the chains and the ropes had constantly reminded him of why he was there. He had to remember that breaking of trust, that moment of truth, when he discovered that he had been lulled into a false sense of security. He knew the truth now. He knew what the man was capable of. He knew that Leroy Jethro Gibbs was a murderer and all he had to do was to prove it.

***********

Gibbs wiped at his brow. Even though it was only just coming into Spring, the weather was warming up a bit faster than had originally been forecast. He looked across the vast paddock and saw steam rising from the grass in an almost magical and elusive haze. He watched as cows lazily chewed the grass they could get to through the melting snow and he witnessed as the trees that stood guard at the fence line hiding the outside world from view, swayed in the subtle breeze that ran it fingers across them. If only the horror that had obviously occurred here didn't mar the image, everything may have been alright.

Gibbs took a deep breath, hoping that it would aid him to figure out what the hell had happened. He couldn't understand how Tony was still alive after they had all thought he had perished in that plane crash. He had watched as they were trying to extinguish the wreckage that lay scattered across half of Missouri. He had seen the flames, he had made the connection himself with hard copied evidence that he held in his hand. He had wiped that solitary tear away as he made the correlation that it was the plane that had taken Tony to Vegas that had crashed but he hadn't been on that plane. Gibbs had broken one of his own rules; he had assumed. He assumed that Tony got on board. He had assumed that Tony had died. He had assumed that they were never going to see the young man again, and what did all this assumption cause? It may have caused him to lose the closest thing he had to family, the closest person he had to a son.

Pushing that thought to the recesses of his mind, Gibbs downed the last mouthful of his coffee. He ignored the sensation as a shiver coursed though his body, unsure of whether it was from the bitterness of the liquid or the chill that still distantly hung in the air. Placing the lid back onto his thermal mug, Gibbs walked back into the crime scene, his hands gloved and his face a steely mask. He was hoping that his team would be able to shed some light into how they ended up in this mess.

Making his way back to the central point of the house, Gibbs followed his own made path into the abandoned living space. This time he managed to get a look in at the room around him. The positioning of the furniture, the solitary chair in the middle, an old-fashioned wood-turned, sturdy piece, surrounded by time pieces from about the same era, they all felt familiar in a similar sort of horror. Steeling his gaze he made his way over to the walls, watching the crisscross pattern that lay there, lazing in the dim light that filtered into the room. Gently he reached forward in an inquisitive motion, daring to touch it but having the common sense not to. His mind reeled with questions when suddenly a memory hit with the power of a sucker punch to the stomach. He had seen this before…

_Cameron, Blackadder, Fornell and Gibbs all stood at varying points around the perimeter. Every one of them had their weapons drawn, waiting for the order to mobilize through the dilapidated and boarded up concave of the old department store. It had been a marvel of architecture in its day but bad wiring had caused it all to go up in smoke and flame in a spectacular display. A faulty light switch and cheap materials had caused the flames to smolder, causing the destruction once the fire got some oxygen, breathing life into the killer flames. Four firemen had been killed, two had been seriously injured. It had been news across the whole Eastern Seaboard and mementos and thanks had filtered in from far and wide for the tragic deaths._

_After the investigation into the fire had finished up, the building company had been charged with negligence, having cut corners and used unapproved materials in a bid to save money. This disaster had also caused the collapse of the financier, having hoped that the project would help them out of their one hundred thousand dollar deficit. They had declared bankruptcy several months after the fire because the insurance they were paying had been discarded in an effort to try and pay some other bills. With no one to fund a rebuild, the building of virtue was left to rot, a cesspool in an area that held low rate accommodation, high crime rates and a girl on every corner for ever second desperate man looking for love. It had brought a new low into the derelict suburb, causing the filth to disappear into the background of a forgotten brilliance, never to shine again._

_Fornell had been ordered to follow Gibbs lead, the FBI agent not taking nicely to that order. It had come directly from on high as two Directors fought for the glory of bringing down what they believed was a well trained, extremely intelligent, serial killer. Gibbs and Fornell got ready at the front entrance while Cameron and Blackadder were situated at the back. Hollow voices could be heard echoing from inside the battered up walls, one a female whimpering in what sounded like pain. Gibbs and Fornell had waited for the order but Cameron had gotten a visual on the suspect and had acted hastily, storming through the door, yelling for the assailant to get away from the young captive…_

Gibbs stood still, staring at the opposite wall, oblivious to the presence of the elderly Medical Examiner. Ducky had found there was nothing more to do as they didn't have a body to process. It seemed that Gibbs had the scene under control and there would be no more use for him and Mr. Palmer except to make their way to the hospital to see how Anthony was doing. Seeing as he had walked into the darkened space to find that Jethro was staring at nothing in particular, concerned the doctor. He had to wonder if Tony's reaction to seeing them was taking a far greater toll on his friend than they initially thought it might.

Tim and Ziva had followed through the door after Dr. Mallard, still cataloguing and inventorying the evidence they had to take back with them. Both had been discussing which one was going back with the cargo because it meant that whoever did had to tell Abby about Tony. Neither of them liked the idea of telling the Forensic Scientist that – for lack of a better way to describe their relationship – her big brother was indeed alive and that they hadn't been looking for him. That was the hardest thing to fathom. None of them considered the fact that Tony could still be alive. None of them had considered that their friend would return to them only to leave him stranded with whoever did this to him for three months. Well the guilt was almost too much to bear. It hung heavy over the team and none of them knew how to fix it. They had no idea how to start, let alone what their next step was, especially if Tony really did hate Gibbs the way that he had shown. It was hard to judge which was the more surreal, the fact that Tony had flinched away from Gibbs touch, knowing full well who the man was that had stood in front of him, or simply the fact that Tony was actually alive. It was definitely a tossup and no one, not even the good old Doctor, was willing to place any bets.

Gibbs still stared vaguely at the wall, his voice loud in the hollow room.

"We've seen this before, Duck."

They were all the words that needed to be said. Ducky instantly moved back from where he was standing in an effort to get a better look at the whole picture. Moving so that he was shoulder to, well, not exactly shoulder with the Lead Agent, Ducky flicked though his memoirs as he tried to recall what exactly he was meant to be seeing. After a few moments of silence, Ducky finally placed his sight on the area that had positioned the chair Tony had been tied to. An image fell into reality through younger looking eyes. The chair had been the focal point in a room, the pivot from where all the pain and suffering of several people had been. The last time had been after a week of desperation as NCIS was looking for one of their own. Gibbs had been unbearable, his guilt outweighing anything else. It had been torturous and methodical and Gibbs was barely hanging onto his sanity. They had finally gotten into that room, Ducky was almost sick with rage when he saw the shape of the body before him. It was a single gunshot wound to the head, male, Caucasian and wearing the clothes they had been last seen in. Ducky came back to reality with a thud, a thought of utter hatred filled his being as the coppery smell of the blood hit his nostrils as did the putrid stench of urine.

Looking back in Gibbs' direction, all Ducky could do was place his hand onto the nearest shoulder that had slumped with the guilt that all this was his doing.

"Oh Jethro, I'm so sorry."

The slumped form of the Team Leader stiffened as though a spark of electricity had shot through him. His eyes became bright blue pools of desperation as he turned to his friend. Dr. Mallard now knew what was happening and who the target had really been. Tony was not the intended target. They were always meant to find Tony. They were probably premature in finding him alive but they could take that under their wing as one for their team. The question now was, however, if they had not thought that Tony was already dead, would they have had the chance to find him at all. This was for Gibbs. This was torture in another form. Gibbs had to pay like he had to last time. This time, Ducky knew, the bastard wouldn't be walking away in cuffs. This time it would be in a body bag.

"He's not getting away with it again, Duck. I will not lose Tony too."

With that statement, Gibbs walked back out the door, pushing through his two junior agents. After looking at each other, Ducky gestured for Ziva and Tim to follow him, an order neither would disregard twice.

Both had overheard the conversation, or lack there of, between the two men, wondering what on earth the pair were referring to. Following the hall back down to the front door, Tim and Ziva found Gibbs just standing, looking into the distance as though there were something out there that they were missing. Gibbs showed off his uncanny ability to stalk intended prey but this was different, this was a challenge. His stance was proud; his ears were cocked to listen for any unusual sound. Then as swiftly as the motion came, the two agents witnessed an uneasy calm rest over their colleague. They both watched as Gibbs absently massaged his gun hand with the thumb of the other. Both were brought to attention at the sound of his tone.

"McGee! I need you to get in contact with dispatch. Tell them we need numbers."

"What for?"

The stare that Tim received was well noted.

"We may have located the hide out of a Serial Killer…"

Tim's and Ziva's eyes met in confusion. Tim's asked the question and Ziva answered with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

"…One that has been on the run for close to three months. Let Mulvaney know to contact the Director and appraise him. He will need to get in touch with the Director of the FBI. We will need Agent Fornell's help on this one too."

McGee stood, dumbstruck. How did Gibbs know it was a Serial Killer? They'd only found evidence of one body and although he hadn't been overly pleased to see them, he was alive and on his way to a DC hospital, more than likely Bethesda.

Noticing Tim's lack of response, Gibbs barked again at the more junior member of his team.

"That's an _order_, McGee!"

"On it!"

Tim walked back towards the house, pulling out his cell as he did. Hoping he could get some sort of signal out here in the back of nowhere, Tim gently pushed past Ziva to get to his task at hand. Ziva just stood silently, awaiting her orders.

"David! You need to go to the hospital. I need you with Tony. I want you to know everything that he does. Tony is still Tony, just a little angrier. He won't talk to me. Maybe you might have better luck."

Ziva turned on her heel, heading towards the Charger on the other side of the grounds. She was almost out of sight when Gibbs yelled again.

"David?"

Ziva turned swiftly again, her eyes locking with the closest thing she had to a father. Gibbs opened his mouth but no sound came out, unsure of what he had wanted to say. Ziva just simply nodded.

"I will be gentle with him, Gibbs. He is my friend also."

Gibbs smiled slightly, knowing that she understood the gesture.

Tim rounded the corner, still looking at his phone, laughing slightly. Ziva stopped and regarded Tim, a look of death entering his realm from the former Moussad Officer.

"This is not funny, McGee!"

Tim, still lost in thought, started laughing a little louder, drawing Gibbs attention.

"You really have been doing this job too long." Ziva stormed off towards the car, shaking her head because she was sure that Tim was losing it.

Tim just laughed harder as she walked away, trying with all his might to stem the sound. He stopped abruptly when the calloused hand of his Boss whacked him upside the head.

"What is so funny, McGee."

Tim's laughter slowed and he swallowed hard. Gibbs stood well within Tim's personal space, their eyes interlocked in a battle of wits.

Trying to explain what he had been thinking about to Gibbs, Tim got lost somewhere between trying to stop laughing and hyperventilating in the process.

"Well, you see Boss…" Tim wondered if this was a good time to try and explain this idea, seeing as Gibbs was so close to him. He figured he would take the risk simply because there had been a void of laughter for a long time now and Tim felt he should try and break it.

"I was thinking about Tony and how we thought he was dead."

Gibbs eyes grew darker, also inviting Tim to continue. He wanted to know what he was killing the boy for before he suffered the life sentence.

"Well, you… you see, Tony by all accounts died but he survived and now we've found him alive but I realized just how funny it is to find him alive even though we all thought he was dead."

Gibbs was so close to McGee now that Tim could feel the hot breath of his boss on his face, the smell of coffee and the intensity of the moment causing Tim to open his mouth again, disregarding his brain's orders to keep his mouth shut. He had to get Gibbs to understand how hurt they would have been if they hadn't of found Tony when they did. When he finally got the majority of the thought across, Gibbs' look of shock was quickly turned into a look of intense anger.

"I don't find that remotely funny, Ma-Gee!"

Tim shrank as Gibbs words hit base but instead of shutting up like the rest of his body was trying to do, Tim couldn't help but open his mouth again, almost in the fashion of Anthony DiNozzo.

"B-But Boss! You don't understand!"

Gibbs walked back, squinting his intimidation in Tim's direction.

"Who else could live through two more deaths and live to tell the story?"

Gibbs eyes softened, offering another smack to the back of his head, this one not as hard as the first but a wake up call just the same.

Tim nodded in acknowledgement, agreeing to never speak of it again. Gibbs turned around, a small smile evident on his face. Only his loyal St. Bernard he thought as he started the search.

********

_Gibbs hit him again. He opened his mouth yet again to ask why and was once more met with a fist to the face. Gibbs had belittled him, humiliated him... left him for dead. Obviously there was so much pent up anger behind the stillness of the Team Leader that Tony had been lulled into a false sense of security. _

"_You're worthless, DiNozzo!"_

_Gibbs words vibrated throughout his being. How could he have been so wrong? He trusted Gibbs, with his life of all things and then he turned around and ended up belting the living crap out of him. It didn't make any sense. He would not have believed it but he saw it with his own two eyes, felt it with the force of the hammer that had broken his ribs. The pain as the whacks to the jaw hit again and again and again. Then there was the continuous pain that emanated from his back with every movement. He didn't know what damage lay there and Tony wasn't sure if he actually wanted to know._

Tony awoke to staggered breathing and the need to throw up. In an attempt to control the first, he had uncontrollably achieved the second. He had to get out of there, he couldn't handle it. He needed to go home and get some rest, away from the constant interruptions and the smell.

Tony pressed the buzzer to alert a nurse. One came in about a minute later, looking as though she was immensely pissed off with the patient. The manner of her voice clearly stated it.

"What is it this time, Mr. DiNozzo?"

"I need to see a doctor. I'm signing myself out."

The look on the nurse's face was one of incredulity. He had only been found twelve hours ago and he wanted to leave. He had a partial fracture to his skull, it was only minute but the doctor had wanted to keep him in for observation. The wounds on his wrists needed constant care, the flesh so rotten that it was feared that gangrene might set in. The most worrisome was the massive gash that ran down the length of his back. It had been deep and was the newest of the battle scars laden across his body. It had required close to forty sutures and the pain levels would be unbearable if the high dose of morphine wasn't constant. The other worrisome thing was that there were burn sights across different areas of his torso and the surgical team tad used a good couple of hours getting the slivers of metal out of his back, some of them actually having been healed into the wounds they had created. This man had gone through hell, for months and he wanted to sign himself out. This man was definitely stubborn if he wasn't a little bit insane.

"Mr. DiNozzo…"

"I'm _fine_."

Nurse Ratchett made her way across to the edge of the bed, hoping to offer some sense to the boy.

"Do you even know what's going on in that head of yours?"

Tony stared at the short, stout woman in front of him. She was shaped a lot like a teapot, he thought, except she had short brown hair and both her hands were on her hips. Tony silently laughed to himself. Instead of the teapot, she was the sugar bowl.

"Mr. DiNozzo, you haven't even been in hospital for twenty-four hours. We keep telling you we can't release you because you have no next of kin to take you in and we sure as _hell_..." Nurse Ratchett whispered as she said the next bit, "…aren't letting you out of here in _your_ condition."

"And what condition would that be, _Ma'am_?"

Nurse Ratchett regretted saying it after it flew out of her mouth.

"I'm sorry, _Sir_. We have no cure for plain stupidity!"

That was it! Tony had had enough. He was not going to stay here with a nurse who felt compelled to belittle him. He was a grown man! He had been in similar situations before and he had survived. He had managed to go home and sleep it off. Hell, he'd been taken hostage for three months and here he was, still alive, still fighting and she had the gall to call him stupid.

Tony stood up abruptly and stared the woman down, which wasn't hard as she was immensely shorter than her patient. The moment that Tony stood to his full height above her, he was surprised she stood her ground. However, the look of fear in her eyes could not be hidden. She looked into his eyes and saw the haunted look behind them, the determination and the anger, the immense amount of anger that lay just below the surface. Better to be done with him then. She didn't need an unstable patient on her ward, let alone one that had suffered whatever sort of torture for how ever many months. If he didn't want to be taken care of, so be it. She left the room to look for a doctor. She knew what the man wanted, an AMA form.

Tony slumped back down onto his bed. That little altercation had taken a lot out of the man, leaving him wondering whether he should actually reconsider and stay in the hospital another night. The smell of bleach hit his nostrils again and that clenched it. That smell was going to haunt him forever now. The room he sat in reeked of it, sometimes the smell was so strong it burnt the back of his throat. He couldn't stay here. He had to get back to his apartment and grab some things. He just couldn't stay _here_.

Tony started pulling at cords, detaching himself from monitors and drips, dislodging the cannula in the back of his hand, ignoring the blood now seeping from the site. He was getting out of here, permission or not.

To hell with them all! They didn't look for him before. They sure as hell won't miss him now. With that thought, Tony hopped out of his bed and tied his attire tighter, trying to stem the coolness around his body. He shivered involuntarily and looked back to the bed and grabbed the blanket that draped haphazardly across it. Wrapping himself up in it, he walked back towards the nurse's station, noticing that it was empty. He could hear feint beeping emanating from one of the screens. Tony slowly crept down the hallway, being careful not to move his back too much for fear he might cause more damage. The soft padding from his feet as they stuck silently to the lino floor meant he was able to creep up on anyone that may be in the vicinity. Once he reached the circular desk, he looked over and noticed that the screen marked five was softly screaming for attention and flashing like a slow strobe light. Bed five had been the one that he was in. Slowly, Tony reached over and turned the monitor off, causing an eerie stillness about the vacant room.

Tony etched his way down the corridor, his back pressed gently against the wall in an action to try and stay inconspicuous. It was early morning, he surmised given that most of the lights were off in the individual rooms and there was minimal lighting in the hallways. He snuck down towards the exit sign that lit up his escape route. Suddenly, Tony heard the familiar squeak of plastic shoes coming swiftly and in short steps down the hall as though they were determined to get to their destination in a hurry. Tony slipped into an open family room, his training as a Federal Agent having enabled him hide in silence. He watched the mini Hitler as she stormed down the corridor, obviously annoyed because Tony hadn't been co-operating with her earlier. He watched as she huffed down the corridor and turned towards his room. He had to be quick if he was going to make it out of there. Tony started half running through the hospital, his desperation to get out of the hospital evident in the long strides he took. He was only a few meters from the front door when he heard someone yelling behind him.

Tony turned swiftly in the direction of the broad-shouldered security guard that was looking in his direction. His yellow shirt hugged his frame snugly and the baton placed at his hip swung loosely.

"Where ya going, buddy?"

With his rapid fire training and quick wit under his belt, Tony stayed calm as he motioned to his mouth with his index and middle finger in a gesture saying he was in need of a cigarette.

The guard simply smiled and waved his hand in a shooing motion, giving Tony permission to stroll comfortably out the front door of the hospital and into the dark and crisp night.

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**A/N: please let me know your thoughts, they are all very much appreciated :D **

**Sal**


	4. From the author

I am so sorry to all of you out there who are following this story. I am currently putting it on ! THIS STORY IS GOING ON HOLIDAY! NOT GETTING DESTROYED! This story will get finished, I promise.

RL is unfortuantely getting in the way. I know you guys deserve so much better than you are getting. The end of this story is pretty much written and I would hate for none of you to see the story that I have in store.

I will be kind enough to let you all know out there that I am five and a half months pregnant with our first child, and I am still working full time. My partner is currently in hospital awaiting heart surgery so I thought you guys deserve an explanation. Hopefully after I have a bit of time on my hands and less worry, you will all get to see the end of this story.

I am once again so incredibly sorry, but I will return with another chapter, I just can't promise you when that will be.

Thank you

Sal :)


	5. Chapter 4: Missing In Action

Chapter 4: Missing In Action

The traffic whizzed by in a blur as Ziva stormed the traffic to get to Bethesda. Keeping busy was her best option for now. This was just another case, another victim they had to try and protect. The fact that it was Tony was irrelevant. If she kept telling herself that, it might actually work this time.

Ziva's concentration wavered from the road into thoughts of a time not that long past. Not a hard feat at this particular time of night while driving on a lonely highway back to civilisation. The car could almost steer its' own way home if you let it; almost.

_She stood in front of a door. It was a familiar door, nothing amazing about it, just a door. What it held on the other side, however, was a completely different story. She had spent all her time in the last week going in and out of this door and today was the day it ended. _

_She turned the key and walked over the threshold, breathing in the musty darkness as it surrounded her in a cool embrace. She closed her eyes briefly, remembering happier times of movie marathons and heartfelt laughter over iced tea or a beer and spritzer (depending on the time of day.) The company was pleasant, the mood light with frivolity. It had been his birthday the last time she was here. It would not happen again, not in this place nor with the person that lived within these walls. The memories seeped into the cracks, lingering there for no one to relive. The room was hollow. _

_She glanced around the apartment, making sure that everything had been gathered. The bedroom was a shadow of its' former majesty with nothing but an opaque blue covering the walls. The curtains had been stripped from their trellises, leaving a bare and lonely window overlooking a dreary street. As she walked across the timber flooring, her steps light against the shining surface, a reflection of something shiny caught her eye. Creeping closer, her eyes affixed to the object, she wondered if this could be a clue of some kind, some answer to the reason behind her friend's early departure from this world. She knelt down against the skirting board and tried to pry the material out of the hole, no bigger than a thumb. After much digging, she eventually got hold of the object; a gold cross. The loop that had obviously held the talisman to a chain was split in two. Ziva couldn't help but imagine that it had surely been from one of his brief encounters with the opposite sex, one of his endeavours, one of his midnight beauties. It may have been lost in a skirmish of passion, never to be clumsily found the next morning. It was a medallion of battles lost in memories. _

_Grasping the piece gently within her palm, she stared around the serenity, lost in thought._

"_Goodbye Tony."_

_She whispered it serenely to the walls and walked back out of the door, handing the key to the Manager on her way out._

BEEEEEEEEEEP!

An oncoming car beeped ferociously at her as it swerved to miss the front end of her car. Steering her vehicle back onto the correct side of the road, Ziva came back to reality as the fading headlights disappeared into the distance. Pulling the car over, she came to rest on the side of the highway, breathing deeply as nothing but the surrounding darkness comforted her. She held her hand absently onto the Star of David clinging around her neck, as though support would find her through that small charm. Alas it didn't, and ever so briefly she allowed a few tears to fall.

Tony stumbled through the late hour to try and find something or somewhere to stop and rest. The adrenaline he had been feeling before had dissipated, leaving him shivering, tired, semi-naked and possibly lost. He had no money so a bus was out of the question, let alone a motel. Even if it were that easy, he mused, the minute anyone saw the hospital garb and the wrist bracelets identifying who he was, a phone call would be made within seconds. The person would probably be thinking that he had escaped from the mental home. No! That would not be happening to this DiNozzo! He had to try and at least find some clothes, something warmer than the butt revealing gown he had on.

The focus that he held on finding something to wear or somewhere to sleep allowed him to not be thinking about other horrible recollections that might befall him in weakness. The betrayal was the hardest, and the lies. It was as though the last nine years of his life were a sham; that Kate had died in vain, Jenny too. It was as though it all meant nothing and he had no idea where to start rebuilding. First things first though, clothes were becoming more and more of a priority as his body shivered again, his lungs aching from old wounds.

He felt like he had been wandering for hours and had hopefully achieved some distance between him and the hospital. It had seem like hours since he stepped out into the bitterness of the night, it could almost seem like months. (_**AN: Jab at myself for taking so long to write this chapter. )**_Finally coming into a street that had houses on it, Tony thought he would take a stab at wandering into a few backyards, hoping for some clothes that may fit and provide some warmth.

The first yard yielded nothing but a lawn that was the height of his knees and a letterbox overloaded with newspapers and old bills. Even though the opportunity of spending the night in an abandoned house was appealing, at least for the prospect of some sleep, the creepiness and similarities between it and the house he had been rescued from only hours before were too unnerving for his tastes. After finding no clothes to borrow, Tony moved back out onto the street, staggering through prospective accommodation only to find them too crowded for his needs.

With exhaustion peaking and his muscles aching from the most amount of movement they have had within the last three months, a house with all his needs fell into sight. It was dark and unlit. There was no car in the driveway. It was, though, tidy and homely without being overly so. It seemed absolutely perfect in an odd sort of fit. Creeping around the back, Tony tore the sleeve off his hospital gown and wrapped it around his hand. With a soft clatter, his smashed his way in through the back door, breaking one solitary panel. Spilling glass onto the ground, Tony manoeuvred his arm in, unlocking the door. The bandages that were wrapped around his wrists from his ordeal started to have blood seep through the fine gauze. Tony took that as his cue to find a warm corner and rest. It took him all of two minutes to find the linen closet with some nice, warm Onkaparinga blankets. Wrapping them around his shoulders, he cruised his way to a quiet soft corner and collapsed against the wall, allowing sleep to finally overcome him.

_His head burned. His back burned. Everything including his eyeballs burned. Make it stop, he cried! MAKE IT STOP! He felt his body shaking from the electric jolt running through his body, out of control save for the memory. It was as clear as crystal, warm as sunshine, as violent as death. And all he wanted was for it to stop. All he asked every night was where was the Reaper? Why had he forgotten him? And why, oh why, was Gibbs treating him this way?_

Gibbs looked across at Tim who was digging in the ground amongst the mixture of FBI and NCIS agents. Hiding the yawn he was about to unleash in the coffee cup at his lips, Gibbs looked to be delegating and overseeing the project at hand, presenting as though nothing were awry. He was acting as though they had not just located his very alive and pissed off second in command. If only they all knew.

_It had been one hell of a day. What made the whole thing worse was that he had no idea what was going on. All the evidence had been collected and all the information gathered but the FBI and NCIS had no clue as to where Cameron had been taken. The last thing Gibbs heard was a gunshot as screeching tires sped away but Cameron had not been located. All they knew was that their suspect had been at the abandoned building and that neither he nor Cameron could be found. _

_Ducky processed the body of their latest victim. This young female, Gibbs knew, was Petty Officer Juliana O'Reilly. Her face had been on his desk for the last two months, filed under missing. Another response team had been allocated the case but Gibbs had managed to get his hands on their reports, skimming through them briefly to get a feel for the victim. Unfortunately, it hadn't helped her any as Dr Mallard gently searched for any clue that could alleviate the pain that still lay in the young lady's eyes._

"_Oh, Jethro. What a terrible waste. She seemed as though her whole world stood to greet her."_

"_That's why we do our jobs, Duck. To stop it from happening to someone else."_

"_Someone like John, perhaps? I think it might be best if you distance yourself from this one, Jethro. After all, John has been with us for all of nine months. He's the longest lasting protégé you've had since Mike left."_

_The elderly Doctor was met with silence as Gibbs looked into the eyes of the Petty Officer. The deep brown eyes still laced with fear, held in them a beauty that someone could get lost in. Her hair was splayed in several different directions from obvious tugging and pulling from her captor. When compared with her Navy photo, it almost seemed as though she wasn't the same person. She looked like a different person had inhabited her body the minute she was abducted. Perhaps, she did._

Gibbs returned to reality. He looked around briefly to see that all the extra hands, both FBI and NCIS were still digging up bodies. They'd uncovered a total of seven so far. Among them was a female in Navy whites. Gibbs sipped slowly at his coffee, watching the unravelling of devastation before him. However his mind still wandered.

Hours later, the mass grave site revealed her innards as body after body was pulled from the ground. As he laid witness, his reverie was broken by the screeching of brakes and the slipping of tires on loose gravel. Two doors open and closed almost simultaneously as the black sedan unleashed two FBI agents, Sacks and Fornell. The searching crew became distracted briefly as the two men in dark suits marched up to where Gibbs stood. Fornell was the first to greet his old friend, Agent Sacks taking a slower step behind his cohort as a sign of respect.

"So Di-nut-so didn't die… again. You know you should have him stuffed once the ninth life is up."

Fornell was met with a grimace that he hadn't been on the receiving end of since their first encounter. He was missing something important. Usually Gibbs would be jumping for joy to know that Dinozzo wasn't on the plane they all thought had killed him. No, Gibbs was hurting, but Fornell had no idea why. Giving a brief glance across to his subordinate, Fornell watched as Sacks suddenly found the identification of one of the uncovered bodies suddenly fascinating.

"What am I missing, Jethro?"

Gibbs stare didn't leave the horizon. He just sipped at his black brew, lost in thought.

"Oi! Cut it out, Gibbs. You're starting to freak the crowd."

"Ahhh, they're already scared, Tobias."

The lop-sided grin from the NCIS lead was a welcome surprise. Maybe finding Tony had mellowed him. The grin quickly disappeared though and Fornell raised his eyebrow in question.

"This goes back to '96, Tobias."

"Cameron?"

Gibbs took another sip of his coffee, blanching at the taste. Turning on his heel, Gibbs lead Fornell into the house, both of them wary of the path taken. Finally once they reached the centre of the house where Tony had been found, Fornell tread ever so lightly, trying to concentrate on the surroundings. Visions of John Cameron came flooding back into view, his body cut and mangled in a way that made it seem like he'd been attacked by a dog. There was a hole where his head used to be. Self-inflicted, the final autopsy report stated. He'd only been missing for a week. It turned out that he'd been fed a cocktail of PCP and Barbituates, hallucinating that his family had all committed suicide and in his deepest sorrow, decided to join them. They'd only missed him by three minutes. He and Gibbs heard the solitary shot just as they got out of the car. Jeremy James' Playford's military issued firearm was found at the scene. After he confessed, the case was as good as closed. Obviously since his escape, Playford had been getting back into the swing of things.

Night vision goggles were the best invention ever. He'd been watching for a while, keeping his eye on the prize. DiNozzo wouldn't know what hit him. Neither would Gibbs.


	6. Chapter 5: Raw

**Raw**

Ziva finally got herself together and made her way towards Bethesda. It was well into the night. Ziva was exhausted from lack of sleep and high emotion. Getting out of the Mustang, she dragged her feet across the deserted car park and through the welcoming sliding doors of Bethesda Hospital. Walking towards the High Dependancy Unit, she was stopped in the corridor by a security guard built like a brick wall with arms and legs.

"Where are you off to, Miss?"

The guard rose from where he was seated to come out from behind his shield. Max Creswell had been a security guard at Bethesda for going on nine years. Prior to that, he had been a marine but a large piece of shrapnel in his left knee had led to an honorary discharge from the service on the basis of medical grounds. Max was good at his job. He enjoyed it. He loved working with people and for people and no matter what came up, he had no real complaints. He stood a good foot above Ziva, which for any other person would normally give him an intimidating presence. She, however, was not fazed. Holding up her badge, she announced she was off to see Tony.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?"

Max's voice was one of incredulity. It was almost loud enough to echo off the hollow walls. Being nearly one o'clock in the morning, it was well after visiting hours. Surely she didn't believe that having that shiny little piece of metal was going to deter him from following protocol.

"I am Special Agent Ziva David! I need to get in there and question Anthony DiNozzo. He's been viciously attacked and is a witness to a possible serial killer. I need to see him NOW!"

Maybe it was the lack of sleep, or maybe just the raw emotion of the day. This security guard did not understand the importance of her being able to see Tony. She needed to see him, to touch him, to hear him talk just so she could be sure that he was alive. She needed to be sure that he hadn't died on that plane!

"Not on my watch, Love. Come back tomorrow when he's had some rest. He won't be going anywhere if he's as sore as you say he is. You look like you could use a bit of a kip (sleep) yourself. Go home and get some rest. You and he will probably do better in the morning."

"You do not understand…"

"I understand perfectly well and I don't care who you are or what you do. You are not going into this hospital tonight. It is one in the morning! You need rest. He needs rest. Come back in nine hours when visitors are welcome of any variety."

"No, you do not…"

Ziva stood back as Max rose to his full height. Maybe this would deter her and she would just go home.

Normally, Ziva would just side-kick this guy and make her way through to see who she needed to see, but the guy was right. It was late. She was tired and Tony would still be at the hospital when she came back in the morning. Holding her hand up in defeat, she walked back out of the hospital towards her car, unaware that in only a couple of hours, that same security guard would allow Tony to walk voluntarily out of the hospital.

Ziva hopped into the car, the fatigue she'd been fighting finally taking its toll. She had one last thing to do.

Gibbs phone vibrated at his hip. Ziva's name and number flashed across his screen and he opened it up with a gruff, "Gibbs."

"They won't let me in to see Tony, Gibbs. They said that it would probably be in our, _and his_, best interests to see him tomorrow when visitors are allowed in."

Gibbs noted the tired sound emanating from her voice.

"Good work, Ziva. Go home and get some rest. McGee and I will be out here for a while. There's a motel back in South Gate that we're booked in at. Go and see Tony, first thing in the morning."

Even though Ziva didn't say anything, Gibbs could tell that she was nodding. Come to think of it, he probably could do with a bit of sleep himself. Five hours wouldn't get them that far behind. Gibbs hung up the phone knowing that Ziva had got his message. As he called the troops in from their hard day's work, Gibbs stated the plan, with Fornell beside him, for the following day.

A cold shiver ran down his spine as though someone had run their fingernails down a blackboard, while walking over his grave. Anthony DiNozzo woke with a start, his back screaming out in pain as he twisted in an awkward motion. In the shock, Tony did the same. Realising where he was, Tony quickly quietened his pain drenched yell, listening intently for any movement from above. After a few brief minutes, nothing resounded from upstairs, no children running, no loud footsteps and no whispering of _"Did you hear that? What was that?"_

Allowing his body to relax momentarily, Tony looked around his surroundings. He was at the lowest point of a staircase, the step being his refuge from the coldness of the concrete floor below. With the blanket wrapped tightly around his shoulders, he stood up, slowly. He deliberately made his way across the floor, his head tilted to the side as though to see the world from a different angle. He glanced around quickly, pulling out draws to see if there was any food in this God-forsaken place. Nothing jumped out as edible but the appearance of a rifle seemed to calm Tony's nerves. Thinking it may come in handy; he slid the draw shut, keeping a reference should he ever require it.

With his stomach grumbling and having not eaten for a good while, Tony decided it might actually be safe to explore quickly upstairs, at least to try and find some food.

Each thump of the step coincided with a grumbling noise emanating from his stomach. He couldn't remember the last time he ate, and if he was honest with himself, he didn't want to either. He dragged the blanket behind him and walked into a very modest kitchen. It was painted a basic yellow with cupboards that were pulled out of the middle of the 1980's. The stove and oven looked as good as new even though they matched the rest of the decor. The only item in the house that looked remotely new was the refrigerator. With its' faded opaque finish, it was the only part of the kitchen that seemed inviting. So Tony, with his stomach constantly complaining, moved across the black and white checked linoleum floor to see what he could find to eat. Opening the door without a sound, all Tony found was some out-of-date milk, a couple of slices of ham, some butter and a soft carrot. It seemed that no one had lived here for a while.

Throwing out the milk and the carrot, Tony made his way across to the tallest cupboard of them all. Opening the double doors, Tony was met with some crisp bread and cereals, some spreads and dry biscuits. With his limited options, Tony grabbed the crisp bread and decided to at least see if the ham was edible.

Tim awoke to a faded olive green curtain with, what looked like, silhouettes of orchids on it. The sun shone brightly through the minute gap in the curtains, causing his eyes to squint even though they were shut. Finally convincing himself that he should get up, he pivoted so that his legs draped over the side of the motel bed. Hunched over and looking like the living dead, Tim rubbed his eyes in an attempt to loosen the sleep within. Groggily, he stumbled across the small vicinity, and clumsily got out the kettle to attempt to make decent coffee. After waiting for the water to boil and adding it to the usual freeze-dried, Tim took a sip of the hot brew. After it hit his tongue, he froze. It tasted like thin mud that had been over heated. He stepped across to the sink and spat the foul tasting liquid from his mouth.

Tipping the rest of it down the sink, and spitting out the mouthful he had taken, Tim felt his day couldn't possibly get any worse. He was wrong. His phone started beeping and vibrating across the table. Expecting Gibbs' name to be flashing on his screen, without thinking, he answered it without checking who it was.

"Timothy McGee!"

The shrill cut of the voice and the anger laced behind it had made him wish that it had in fact been Gibbs on the other end.

"Abby?"

"McGee! Why didn't you call me, or email… or… SOMETHING!"

Tim went completely pale. Through all the chaos, no one had thought to ring Abby and tell her that Tony was actually alive.

"H-How did you find out?"

"Palmer told me. He told me and you didn't. Neither you nor Gibbs had the decency to tell me that Tony was alive! I'm preparing your death sentence as we speak!"

A thousand thoughts ran through Tim's head, most of them associated with ways he could be killed without any trace evidence. The next thing Tim realized was that he could hear sobbing down the other end of the line.

"…And we just abandoned him, didn't look or anything! He was hurt. He was alone. Oh my God, McGee! What if he had of died? He would have thought that no one loved him! He would have been gutted…"

"Abby?"

"… And what that psycho did to him? If I ever get my hands on that bas-"

"Abby?!"

"… Gonna boil him in cod liver oil with hydrochloric acid while he's still alive..."

"ABBY?!"

"What, Tim?"

"He's going to be fine. He's DiNozzo. If anyone can bounce back from this sort of problem, it's him. Repeat that back to me Abs."

"But Tim…"

"Abby!"

"Tony is going to bounce back from this problem. He will be alright."

All Tim needed to do now was believe it himself.

Gibbs had a hard time trying to track down a decent tasting coffee. His stash unfortunately had been used up. He didn't think that finding DiNozzo would put him through so much caffeine. That freeze dried stuff in his hotel room couldn't even be classed as mud, let alone coffee. So after driving for around about half an hour, he eventually resorted to the fact that he was going to have to wait.

Yesterday had taken its toll on him, not that he would admit that to anyone. Finding Tony had been a shock in itself. Locating the remains of all of Playford's victims, that was something else. This farm belonged to Playford's Uncle. He'd received it after his Uncle had passed away. It was meant to be split with his twin brother, but he had died several years prior to Playford's capture. No foul play, the report had stated, well that's what John Cameron had discovered.

"_Hey Boss, you know that…"_

"_Playford had a twin brother? Yeah, I'm aware Cameron. What of it?"_

"_Well the report says suicide."_

_Gibbs just stared across the bullpen, waiting for the junior agent to get to his point._

"_I'm thinking that his brother was his first victim."_

_Gibbs had been on Jeremy Playford's trail for a week or so. Once Fornell had come into the picture with Playford as his suspect, he'd needed NCIS' help to get information on the former lieutenant. Turned out he'd gone rogue after returning from Iraq. Operation Desert Storm took its toll on a lot of men. Gibbs had all but wiped memories of what happened over there, least of all getting caught up in that land mine blast. He could understand some of the chaos it caused back home but it didn't justify Playford's actions._

_Gibbs swilled his coffee, enjoying the brief moment when Cameron's voice broke the reverie._

"_Gibbs? You hear me?"_

"_Yeah I heard ya Cameron. Go see if Ducky can get hold of the coroner's report and I'll also need a warrant to exhume the body."_

_Blackadder listening in on the pertinent information being dealt chimed in._

"_Gibbs, you can't dig him up! On what grounds would you tell the judge? _I need evidence to catch his brother_? Last I checked, it doesn't work that way!"_

_Gibbs shut his eyes, calming himself down before he did something he might later over to Blackadder's desk, Gibbs spoke softly into her ear, "Well, then Blackadder…" Gibbs paused for effect as he raised his voice so that Blackadder had to step away from him to protect not only her hearing but her ass as well, "… get me some EVIDENCE SO THAT I CAN TAKE IT TO A JUDGE SO I CAN EXHUME THE BODY! ARE… WE… CLEAR?"_

_Cameron watched the exchange and laughed until Gibbs turned on his heel and stared in his direction. Cameron turned around and headed towards Ducky's lab, happy to be out of the firing line of one Leroy Jethro Gibbs._

Tony after having managed to stomach a small amount of crisp bread decided that he probably should try and change his bandages. Slowly and carefully, Tony made his way upstairs, trying to locate the bathroom in the hope of maybe having a shower. Eventually, he reached the top, having to stop and catch his breath from the effort. After he regathered his strength, Tony took the time to take in the house that he was invading.

He stood on a landing, covered in a carpet that was probably the original lay when the house was built. It led down towards several doors, three of which appeared to probably be bedrooms while the fourth was clearly the bathroom. The sun shone through the window in there and reflected light off the tiles, engulfing the hallway. Opening the door to one of the bedrooms, all Tony saw was a heap of boxes from floor to ceiling as though the people that lived here had recently moved in but hadn't had time to unpack the items within. In amongst the boxes though was a neat and tidy bed that happened to look overly enticing even amongst the clutter. Closing the door, Tony moved into the bathroom, firstly noticing the mirror. Dragging the blanket behind him that was still wrapped around his torso, Tony took note of his reflection, gasping in shock at what he saw. The man that stood before him looked nothing like the man he groomed and remembered. He had lost a lot of weight, his face appearing sickly with how thin he was. His hair was displayed in every possible direction on his head, and was a lot longer than he liked to keep it. It was also greyer than he remembered but gladly, he noted, his hairline was still intact. He had masses of hair stuck together with a red coloured tinge, obviously, he said to himself, from blood. His beard was unkempt and wirey, long and tangled. It was going to take a hell of a lot of shaving cream and blades to get through this lot, he thought absently. Thinking about it, Tony started to rummage through the draws, trying to see if he could find some soap or anything to help him get tidied up. Finding soap, shaving cream, disposable razors and some spare toothbrushes, he prayed that no one would come home while he was using their shower to get rid of the evidence of the hell he had been through.

Turning on the shower, steam quickly covered every inch of the room, enveloping Tony in a warm embrace that he had missed. Dropping the blanket from around his shoulders and taking off the hospital gown, he stepped into the shower recess, letting the water run over his body momentarily feeling a freedom he forgot existed. That was until the water reached the gash on his back and the burns at his wrist. Then he yelled, the echo of the bathroom increasing with the pain as it rose with the steam into his being. That was when the lonely tears finally fell.


End file.
