Impasse

Chapter 7

Richard Alexander cracked open the door to the abandoned warehouse. He waited until his eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness before stepping forward but his breath caught as he felt the uncompromising barrel of a handgun pressed firmly against his spine.

"You're late," James Mahoney said flatly before re-holstering his sidearm.

"You're lucky I came at all," Alexander replied when his heart resumed beating.

Mahoney stepped back, allowing the other man to enter and then frowned irritably at the empty doorway.

"Where are the others?" he snapped.

"The Feds are turning this city inside out looking for you," Alexander replied. "I couldn't get near any of our associates without risking being caught myself."

"Be that as it may, you were paid to arrange backup."

"I was paid to take out DiNozzo…I don't need backup for that."

"I need you to disable DiNozzo, not to kill him," Mahoney corrected, allowing a perverse grin to form on his face. "I want to see the guilt and grief in his eyes when I blow Gibbs into a thousand pieces."

"I don't like it," Alexander said. "DiNozzo has double-crossed you before. How do we know that there won't be a dozen Feds waiting for us when we get there?"

"There's nothing cops hate more than when one of their own goes rogue," Mahoney replied, with a self-satisfied grin. "Right now, the only person the Feds want more than me is DiNozzo. Gibbs is like family to him - he'll come alone."

"So DiNozzo watches you kill his boss...and then what?" Alexander asked.

"Then I use his own own gun to put a bullet in his head and we get the hell outta there," Mahoney snarled.

0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0

Habitually punctual, Leon Vance entered the forensic lab for the scheduled meeting with his team. Nodding a greeting he joined Abby, McGee, Bishop and Fornell in front of the large plasma.

"Thanks for coming in, Tobias," he said before turning to McGee. "DiNozzo?"

"Just coming online, Sir." The IT specialist pointing to the live feed now showing in an inset on the lower left corner of the screen. "Tony, you copy?"

"Loud and clear, Probie," Tony rasped.

"Let's begin," Vance said. "Where are we on the location of Mahoney's accomplice?"

"We have a BOLO out on Richard Alexander and surveillance on his and Mahoney's known associates but no hits so far," Bishop reported. "Wherever they are, they're lying low."

"McGee," Vance instructed, "bring up the schematics of the exchange site."

McGee's fingers flew across his keyboard and the plasma screen came to life displaying the plans for the up-scale commercial development, still vacant but currently nearing completion. Four sandstone wings formed a large rectangle; each section was five stories high with large casement windows that let in the light. The complex overlooked a significant quadrangle that was zoned as parkland. Although turf had recently been laid, work on the planned paths, fountain and gardens had not yet commenced leaving a flat grassed area twice the size of a football field. Taking in the plans, Fornell whistled softly and shook his head.

"Look at those windows," he said. "A sniper could take his position at any one of them."

Vance found himself wishing Gibbs was with them. The former Marine had an uncanny ability to extrapolate scenarios from a single look and without the need of computers. The famous Gibbs gut unerringly highlighted likely sniper positions or possible ambush attempts with a degree of accuracy that spoke of his years in the military. He'd trained his team well but this was his area of expertise...his wheelhouse. By the time Vance's musing had ended the agents had narrowed the options to four likely sniper positions.

"Too many windows and not enough agents," Bishop stated, her dark eyebrows drawn in concern. "Alexander could kill Tony the minute he steps into that clearing."

"He could, indeed, Eleanor, but I believe it is unlikely that he will." Ducky entered the lab and joined the discussion. "As we have already established, this entire elaborate scheme – from Jethro's kidnapping to the threat of the collar-bomb - has been set up for one purpose only."

"Retribution for Tony's role in shutting down Mahoney's operation," McGee ventured.

"Exactly," Ducky continued. "Mahoney's threat to kill Jethro is not to be underestimated but it is Anthony he truly wishes to see suffer in the most heinous way imaginable. He has no intention of killing Anthony before he forces him to witness Jethro's gruesome demise."

Hearing the words aloud, Abby gasped loudly and reached her the comfort of her stuffed hippo.

"Makes sense," Fornell said. "The shot from Alexander will be meant to disable DiNozzo but not kill him?"

Tony winced.

"You'll understand if I don't find that very comforting," he quipped.

"We need to know exactly where Alexander will be," Vance continued. "Then Agents Fornell and Bishop can take him out of play before he can get a shot at DiNozzo."

"Right!" Tony agreed, relieved at the prospect of not taking a bullet. "What he said."

"What about me?" McGee asked as Vance held up his index finger to halt his protest.

"You'll be jamming the signal to the collar bomb," Vance told him.

McGee nodded thoughtfully. "You know...if we accessed the building before Alexander, we could use thermal imaging equipment to track him to his position."

"Now you're talking, Probie," Tony encouraged.

"Wait…" Ellie said. "Alexander will most likely be in voice contact with Mahoney the whole time. If we move too early, Mahoney will know he's been had and he'll activate the collar bomb and kill Gibbs."

Fornell cleared his throat and put voice to the words no one wanted to hear.

"But if we move too late, we could lose them both."

0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0

With a guttural growl born of frustration and exhaustion, Gibbs slumped back against the wall of the small, dark storage room and took several deep breaths. The fifteen minutes spent trying to loosen the zip-tie that bound his hands tightly behind his back had resulted in them cutting painfully into his wrists until his hands and fingers were slick with his own blood.

Feeling unusually lethargic, he rested his head against the wall and breathed deeply through his nose. His legs were also bound tightly at the ankles and he repositioned them to stop the painful prickling sensation of pins and needles. Desperately, he scanned the darkness once again in a futile attempt to find something he could use to get free. Now there was nothing he could do to but sit and wait for Mahoney to come for him.

Closing his eyes he allowed his mind to drift back to the last Skype call, wincing at the searing memory of Tony's Sig pressed firmly against Sean Mahoney's temple. From the moment he'd met the younger man in Baltimore he knew he was a wild card, prone to thinking and acting outside of the box. But, unlike himself, Tony had never before willing gone off-grid.

Despite the collar bomb still hanging menacingly around his neck, Gibbs knew that he was only the pawn in this game – a carrot being dangled precariously to lure DiNozzo into the open. He had warned Tony, correction, he had ordered him to stay away but the younger man was as stubborn as he was loyal. The thought of his agent coming anywhere near the blast range of the collar bomb sent a chill of apprehension rippling across his skin and he made a silent vow – he may not make it out of this alive but he'd make damn sure that Tony would.

0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0

Having agreed on a plan to isolate Alexander's position, the team turned their attention to other matters of importance when the ringing of Bishop's cell phone turned all heads toward her. She hurriedly checked the caller ID and winced apologetically.

"Excuse me, Director," she said, "I need to take this."

Vance gave permission with a curt nod of his head before turning to address address Tony and McGee.

"Despite being in audio contact, Mahoney may use a visual sign to order Alexander to take the shot. Be ready for that."

"Yes, Sir," the agents responded together.

"Abs," Tony continued, "how stable are the explosives in the collar-bomb?"

"I ran some sensitivity tests on the remnants of the explosives used in the first collar bomb," Abby told him. "All of the components have been chemically desensitized to make them way safer to handle. You could, like, drop that collar bomb on the ground and stomp on it and it wouldn't blow up…not that I'd advise anyone to do that because, well, that's really, really not a good idea."

"Abs."

"Right," Abby replied getting back on track. "The only way to cause the collar bomb to explode is to use a detonator."

"McGee, you got that covered?" Tony asked not liking the way the younger man squirmed nervously.

"It's not as easy as that, Tony," McGee replied. "The jamming technique developed for these remote systems consists of ensuring threat frequency band coverage, minimizing timing concerns due to duty cycling and channelizing the energy-"

"Probie!" Tony cut in. "Is this going to be one of those times when you make with the geek-speak until my ears bleed and I have to wave my hands in the air and make loud noises so you'll stop?"

"Er…possibly."

"Bottom-line it for me."

The younger man sighed audibly and started again.

"Tri-State Pyrotechnics only uses two frequencies to activate their RCIED remotes and we don't know which frequency will trigger the collar bomb. I can jam both signals simultaneously…but once Mahoney activates the remote, I can only hold them for sixty seconds. After that, the trigger system reboots and the device explodes."

"Sixty seconds," Abby whispered. "That's not long enough, McGee."

"It's gonna have to be, Abs," the IT Specialist told her, encircling her slim shoulders with his arm and giving her a sideways hug. "Regardless of the jamming device, once the button on the remote is pressed the collar bomb will explode in sixty seconds."

"No, no, no, no! We have to get Gibbs back, we have to!" Abby exclaimed, wringing her hands anxiously and stepping so close to the camera that Tony stepped back from her distorted image. "Tony, please tell me you'll be wearing a vest, please!"

"Abs, if Mahoney sees me wearing a vest, he'll know he's been set up and Gibbs is as good as dead," Tony explained. "I'll be fine...we're gonna get him back."

"You promise?" the scientist asked.

"Cross my heart and hope to…"

The unfortunate choice of words plunged the room into a heavy silence. Tony's face twisted in a grimace and he amended his statement with a tired grin.

"Scout's honour."

Bert the hippo made his presence known as Abby squeezed the stuffie tightly and Vance quickly changed the subject.

"Doctor Mallard," he said. "What can you tell us about Gibbs' physical condition?"

"As you can imagine, Director, accurately assessing Jethro's physical condition using only a grainy video image is extremely difficult," Ducky replied. "However, I believe there may be several causes for concern."

Taking up a remote from the counter top, the ME nodded toward the plasma as the screen split again and several still framed shots of Gibbs from the earlier Skype call appeared.

"Jethro's facial trauma suggests that he took several blows to the head, most likely during his abduction. His lack of coordination and drowsiness are symptomatic of a concussion but without a proper neurological assessment, there is no accurate way of knowing how if the injury is more serious. He has defensive bruising and abrasions on his limbs and extremities proving that, as we would expect, he did not go down without a fight...but he may have sustained more serious injuries which are hidden by his clothing."

"Ducky, if we have to get out of Dodge fast," Tony said. "Is he up for it?"

"Ordinarily, my dear boy, I would say no," Ducky replied with a wry smile, "but as we can all attest, Leroy Jethro Gibbs is no ordinary man."

"Anything else?" Vance asked.

"Yes, Sir, I've got something," Bishop replied excitedly. "We've been trying to find a link between the dead security guard, Joseph Pangetti and the Mahoneys and, so far, I've been drawing blanks. Pangetti had been clean for years before Mahoney forced him to make those collar bombs. In fact, even his employer and his colleagues didn't know that Pangetti was an Army explosives expert. They told me that he never spoke about his time in the Army."

"So whoever told James Mahoney about Pangetti must have had access to his military record," McGee reasoned. "An Army buddy? A family member?"

"Or, perhaps, his attorney?" Bishop added knowingly.

"Ellie, I know Ambrose really got to you but I already checked that," McGee said. "Pangetti was represented by a public defender name Samuel Benton. He died two years ago."

"That's right but when I spoke to Ambrose this afternoon, I got the feeling he was hiding something so I checked Pangetti's trial records again. The PD's office has just confirmed that while Samuel Benton was assigned to the case, during the trial he took two days emergency leave for family reasons. There were no other PD's available so the court ordered pro bono legal representation."

"Let me guess...Victor Ambrose."

"The one and only," Ellie grinned and turned to the Director. "If you don't mind, Sir, I would so like to be the one to bring that pompous, overbearing misogynist in for questioning."

"No," Vance stated succinctly.

"Sir?"

"I'll send a detail to pick up Ambrose," the director explained as he looked at the tired faces before him. "You did good work, all of you, but the exchange is at seven and it's already after one. Get some rest - eat, shower, do whatever you need to do to be on your game. Go."

Vance watched as his team and Fornell reluctantly acquiesced and left the lab. Early in his tenure as Director of NCIS, Vance had strongly believed that the future of the agency belonged more to men like McGee than DiNozzo. Gibbs was quick to defend the ex-cop and adamant that if the agency was to continue to be an elite law enforcement organization, it needed men with the skill sets and expertise of both younger agents.

The director had to admit that DiNozzo's record spoke for itself and he had seen first hand that anyone underestimating the former detective did so at their own peril. He had no doubt that McGee would put his life and career on the line to save Gibbs but he was just as sure that only DiNozzo had the chops and the instincts to see this through. He took some comfort in knowing that, at 7AM, his agents would be right where they were meant to be – McGee handling the specialised computer equipment and DiNozzo in the field.

Vance returned his attention to the plasma where Tony's dishevelled image was still waiting to be dismissed.

"DiNozzo," he said. "Call the ball."

"Yes, Sir," Tony responded crisply. "I have the ball."

"Good luck."

"Thank you, Sir," Tony replied as the call ended and the plasma faded to black.

0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—0

The sun was just beginning to send a few timid streams of light across the horizon as McGee, Bishop and Fornell arrived at the exchange point two hours earlier than scheduled. The agents were dressed in black from watch caps to boots, the dark military camo paint smeared over their faces helped to keep them concealed in the semi-darkness.

Scanning the buildings with the thermal imaging and directional listening equipment, the agents had failed to detect anyone on site so they had stayed hidden on the perimeter of the quadrangle waiting and watching in the chilly pre-dawn hours.

When the exchange was just twenty minutes away, the thermal imaging device detected movement entering the building on the north side of the quadrangle. The agents watched in silence as Richard Alexander moved quickly through the vacant building, assessing various vantage points and unaware that his own body heat had betrayed him. Knowing that DiNozzo would be arriving from the western entrance, Alexander finally took up position in the east; one that granted the best view of the quadrangle below and anyone in it. He removed his rifle from the carry bag and assembled the weapon systematically and proficiently, leaving the silencer to last. With his weapon prepared, he waited.

"Let's move," Fornell said to Bishop, giving McGee a sharp nod as they left.

Gathering his laptop and the jamming equipment, McGee relocated to a position closer to the parkland and where he could see the entire quadrangle. If things should go to hell, he needed to be as close to his team-mates as possible. Despite successfully testing the jamming equipment multiple times, like a persistent mosquito, negative thoughts kept buzzing around his head and he kept slapping them away. He diligently checked the equipment for the umpteenth time – the stakes were too high to leave anything to chance.

He glared anxiously at his comlink until Fornell's whispered voice advised that he and Bishop were now positioned outside the small office where Alexander was situated.

"But we have a problem," Fornell continued gravely. "We can't see the park from here. You're gonna have to tell us when to move...and your timing will have to be perfect."

McGee's stomach plummeted and he held back a rare curse - just what he needed, a little more pressure. He acknowledged his understanding, feeling his chest tighten painfully with the added burden, then he cleared his throat and spoke quietly into the microphone on his headset.

"Tony, Alexander is here. Middle window, third storey, eastern side. He'll be directly in front of you as you approach. Fornell and Bishop are in position."

The IT Specialist frowned at the silence until one click on the comlink signalled Tony's wordless reply. The acting lead agent would have been wearing an earwig but with Sean Mahoney in the back of the van, Tony wouldn't risk Gibbs' life further by acknowledging he had well-armed back-up of his own.

"It's nearly time for the exchange," McGee continued as he lifted the binoculars to his eyes and looked out over the grassy parkland. "Mahoney will be here any minute. Are you close?"

Another click on the comlink answered the younger man's question and, breathing deeply, he tried to reassure himself that everything was in readiness and he took a moment to roll the tension from his shoulders.

Movement from the eastern side of the quadrangle caught his attention and he lifted the binoculars once more to see Gibbs walking unsteadily across the parkland with James Mahoney following some distance behind.

"Mahoney's here," McGee said quietly into the comlink. "He and Gibbs are making there way to the middle of the park."

"How's Gibbs?" Bishop whispered.

"The bomb's still around his neck," came the reply. "His hands are bound behind his back and he's unsteady on his feet."

"We're in position and ready to take Alexander on your mark," Fornell reiterated.

McGee shifted the binoculars quickly to the opposite side of the park as Tony led a handcuffed Sean Mahoney from the western end of the quadrangle.

"Tony, I have eyes on you," he said. "Remember, after the detonator is activated, I can jam the signal for just sixty seconds before the system reboots and the device explodes. We've got your back…good luck."

0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—0

Gibbs' head pounded and what had to be a sizeable concussion made it hard to walk but the ever-present threat of the collar bomb hanging around his neck and the detonator prominently held in James Mahoney's hand had him moving as fast as he could manage. He flexed his hands behind his back, again testing the strength of his bonds but they were secure and held fast.

Keeping his eyes on the ground and concentrating solely on putting one foot in front of the other was proving to be difficult as his vision swam, doubling in and out of focus and causing him to see twice as many feet on the ground as there should be. An unexpected shove in the back that nearly sent him sprawling to the ground but he regained his balance and held his position as he watched James Mahoney move safely out of the ten yard blast radius.

The uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach hardened into cold dread when he lifted his eyes to see Tony and Sean Mahoney emerging from the western side of the complex and walking toward him. He had no doubt the younger man would come for him – he was as loyal as a damn St Bernard – but a large part of him wished that Tony had heeded his order and stayed the hell away.

As the former detective approached, Gibbs scrutinised his agent's appearance through blurry and bloodshot eyes. Since the undercover operation began, eight weeks ago, the stress that had been Tony's constant companion had clearly taken its toll. The senior field agent looked exhausted; his jaw line now sported several days of stubble that was trying it's best to transform his goatee into a full beard. Tony held his SIG at ease but there was nothing nonchalant about the pose. In a split second he could bring it to bear with deadly force. The amicable, easy-going persona Gibbs knew so well was buried and all that remained was the dead-eyed stare of a man determined to get what he wanted or die in the attempt. The thought caused the older man's blood to run cold. If the collar bomb exploded, he may not be able to take Mahoney with him but he'd ensure Tony was as far away from the blast as possible.

"That's far enough," James Mahoney called.

Tony held his position just outside the blast radius, his eyes darting across to meet those of the former Marine.

"Boss," Tony said, unable to hide his concern.

"You shouldn't have come." Gibbs replied, his voice rough and low.

"You'd have come for me," his agent replied with certainty.

They fell silent for a long moment; communicating without words; offering unwavering support with a look that spoke volumes.

"Touching," James Mahoney said, his words dripping in sarcasm. "I've gotta hand it to you, DiNozzo. You sure are a loyal sonovabitch. Most of the people I know would pay to see their boss go off like a roman candle."

Tony's expression was enough to reveal his anger but his brittle voice left no doubt of his fury.

"Let's get this done," he replied.

James Mahoney's face displayed his mock surprise.

"What's the hurry, funny man?" he taunted. "No jokes? No movie quotes or famous DiNozzo one-liners?"

"I've got what you want, you've got what I want," Tony said. "The sooner this is done, the sooner you can go wherever the hell you're going."

Mahoney's smile faded and a his eyes burned brightly with barely restrained rage.

"You're right," he said, "Let's not put this off any longer."

With a quick glance in his father's direction, James Mahoney raised his free hand to adjust the peak of his ball cap. Watching closely through the binoculars, McGee felt the hair at the back of his neck stand on end...the signal...that was the signal. He opened his mouth to shout a warning as a red laser dot zig-zagged across Tony's body before settling on his right thigh.

"Tony, get down!" McGee yelled into the comlink. "Fornell, move in! Move in now!"

The next few seconds seemed to grow out of all proportion and stretch into infinity as McGee's senses kicked into overdrive. His attention was torn between the action in the complex and the deadly scene playing out in the park below.

The loud crunch of splintering wood signalled the destruction of the door separating Alexander from Fornell and Bishop and, almost simultaneously, the agent's voices resounded through his earwig.

"Federal agents, drop your weapon!"

Taken completely by surprise, Alexander startled, jerking the barrel upward and pulled the trigger. The agents were on him in a second, heedless of his comfort as they wrestled him forcefully to the ground and placed him in handcuffs.

On the park below, Tony moved with startling agility, throwing himself sideways with McGee's warning still ringing in his ears. A scorching pain blasted through his side like a blowtorch sending a shaft of white-hot pain searing through every nerve ending and leaving a shocked tingle in its wake. The bullet had caught the muscle and tissue continued straight through leaving a sizeable tear that was bleeding freely.

He dropped and rolled in a single, fluid motion. Biting down on an agonised scream, he steadied his SIG in a two-handed grip with the sight squarely on James Mahoney's chest.

"Drop the detonator, Mahoney," Tony ordered. "Now!"

As if weighing his chances, James Mahoney's eyes darted between the detonator in his hand and Tony's gun pointing directly at him.

"Don't do it!" Tony warned again.

Time seized and slowed as Mahoney's eyes darkened menacingly and his thumb twitched slightly toward the button. The agent fired twice, double-tapping the other man's heart and watching in horror as Mahoney pressed the detonator button before death claimed him.

The recoil of Tony's SIG sent a spear of pure agony into his injured side. His vision greyed and his knees buckled, sending him sprawling to the ground. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he laid gasping as his brain rebooted. There had been no explosion – McGee's jamming device had worked. The relief was almost overwhelming. The temptation to lay there, close his eyes and sleep for a moment was compelling until the insistent buzzing in his head became clearer and he recognised McGee's panicked voice reverberating through his earwig.

"Tony, stop Gibbs!" he yelled. "Stop him! I can only jam the bomb for another forty-nine seconds!"

Still dazed, the injured agent looked to where the former Marine had been standing and an incipient panic clawed at his chest when he noticed his boss had disappeared. Frantically looking to his left, he saw Sean Mahoney weeping over his son's body. Glancing quickly to his right, he spotted Gibbs stumbling recklessly toward the other end of the park with the collar bomb still hanging ominously around his neck. Not knowing about the jamming device, the lead agent was already fifty yards away, trying desperately to distance himself from Tony before the device exploded.

"Oh shit!" Tony cursed. "No, no, no!"

Climbing to his feet he clamped his teeth together, cutting off the grunt already beginning to escape. The world dipped sharply to the right and then righted itself as Tony tried to regain his equilibrium. A sudden rush of adrenaline sharpened his senses and increased his heart rate. Willing strength into trembling leg muscles Tony took a few unsteady steps and took off in pursuit.

"Boss!" Tony shouted. "Boss, stop!"

McGee's countdown continued.

"Tony, forty seconds."

Tony cranked up the pace but the burst of energy that had got him on his feet had just as quickly abandoned him. Pain stabbed through his side and he placed his hand over the wound to stem the blood flow. Trembling muscles and nausea threw up obstacles every step he took but it wasn't enough to puncture the incessant need to keep moving. He watched as Gibbs tripped on the uneven ground and fell hard, knocking the wind and a good portion of the fight out of him.

"Boss!" Tony gasped. "Stay down! Stay down!"

Gibbs lay gasping for breath and fighting against the urge to vomit. With his blood pounding deafeningly in his ears he took no notice of the faint voices in the distance, choosing instead to focus on regaining his feet and getting as far from his senior field agent as he could before the bomb exploded. Dizzy as hell and with his hands bound behind his back, the task was onerous but achievable. Assuming a semi-upright position, Gibbs urged his aching limbs onward and resumed his unsteady run as every sinew and muscle painfully made its presence known. Behind him, Tony had closed the gap to thirty yards.

"Twenty five seconds, Tony," McGee's strained voice called.

Too breathless to reply, the former detective acknowledged him with a useless nod of his head. Fear beat fast in his chest but he ignored it. Buried it. He tripped on the newly laid turf but managed to remain upright.

"Twenty seconds."

With a strength born of incalculable fear and the weight of Gibbs' life pressing down on him, the former detective found a turn of speed and steadily began closing the gap between them.

"Dammit, Boss! Stop!" he called again.

Gibbs' worst fears were realised when Tony's voice and the sound of his agent's running feet registered in his consciousness only a few meters behind him.

"Stand down, DiNozzo!" Gibbs yelled without slowing or turning. "Stand down."

"Fifteen seconds, Tony."

Gibbs was less than three yards in front of him now and showing no signs of stopping. Tony's mind flashed back to his first encounter with the former Marine and, digging into the last of his reserves, every muscle screamed in protest as Tony launched himself in a flying tackle that knocked his boss off his feet. For a moment they were airborne, then the ground came up to meet them with a crunch that drove the air from Gibbs' lungs and momentarily stunned him.

"Ten seconds!"

Tony cursed vehemently as his shaking fingers desperately fumbled with the metal hinge of the collar bomb before it finally came free.

"Five seconds!" McGee yelled.

Heedless of the injury to his side, Tony held the collar bomb in both hands, rotated his entire body twice to maximise momentum and power. A guttural scream ripped from his throat as he hurled the device into the air and threw his body protectively over Gibbs as the bomb exploded overhead and shrapnel rained down around them.

With his chest heaving and his ears ringing, Tony's heart skipped a beat as he realised the body beneath him hadn't moved.

"Boss? Boss?" he called worriedly. "Come on, Boss…don't make me kiss you again."

Another moment of silence passed before a quiet voice rasped.

"You try…you die!"

The younger man huffed a laugh and then groaned as movement aggravated his injured side.

"You okay?" Gibbs asked.

"I'll let you know…as soon as I can unclench my ass," Tony quipped between gasps.

"Appreciate the heroics, DiNozzo, but...you mind getting off me?"

"Ah…yeah…about that…" the younger man answered with a groan.

"Tony?"

Alarmed by the lack of reply, Gibbs twisted his body out from under his agent and blanched at the amount of blood now soaked into Tony's shirt and jacket. The younger man's eyes blinked rapidly to clear his vision and darted his hand into his pocket to remove his pocket knife.

"Turn around," he told his boss.

Gibbs turned his body to allow Tony access to his bound hands then frowned as the younger man closed his eyes and stilled.

"Hey! Stay with me," Gibbs said, nudging his agent with his knee. "Talk to me, Tony."

Tony's eyes opened and met the concerned gaze of his boss, then he turned and began to cut the zip-tie from Gibbs' wrists.

"You're…you're slowing down, Boss," the agent gently goaded. "Didn't even need…my tube socks this time."

Gibbs smiled at the memory and then hissed as the sharp blade made short work of the plastic tie and circulation was restored to his hands. By the time he'd turned back to his agent, Tony was losing his battle with consciousness. As his vision faded in and out, the younger man spotted McGee and Bishop running quickly toward them and nearly shot into orbit as the gruff, former drill-instructor yelled for a medic. As he let himself drift closer to oblivion, he had to admit that it was the best sound he'd heard for a long time.

0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0

Gibbs placed the sandpaper on the workbench and ran his fingers over the the smooth wood. Nodding in satisfaction, he rifled through a small box to find paper with a finer grain and stopped as he heard the front door close and the sound of footsteps entering his home. He continued working until his visitor arrived at the top of the basement stairs.

"The doc ordered you under observation until morning," the former Marine stated without looking up.

Tony smiled wearily at his boss' gruff greeting.

"The same doc ordered you home to rest?" he countered.

Gibbs' made a sweeping gesture of the basement.

"I'm resting," he said.

Tony began to walk down the stairs, wincing as he took the first step.

"Don't even think about it..." Gibbs ordered.

"Come on, Boss, I'm fine," the younger man insisted as he gingerly took the next step.

"You deaf, DiNozzo? You come down here you'll tear those sutures."

Tony cocked his head and flashed a smile.

"See…you really do care."

"S'not about caring," Gibbs told him brusquely. "It's about me having to carry your stubborn ass back there."

Packing away his hand tools, Gibbs walked slowly up the stairs; his expression revealed nothing but his slightly off-kilter gait told Tony the older man was still feeling the effects of the past few days.

"You eaten?" Gibbs asked as he ushered Tony into the living room and toward the couch.

"Not yet."

After a moment, Gibbs emerged from the kitchen, juggling two recently defrosted steaks and a couple of beers. He threw the steaks onto the grill in the fireplace, using a poker to provoke the embers into action. Walking back to the couch, he handed Tony a beer but refused to let go when a thought occurred.

"You drive here?"

"Cab."

Nodding, Gibbs relinquished his hold and the two sat side by side watching the naked flames leap and lick at the steaks. From the corner of his eye Gibbs watched as Tony opened and closed his mouth as if searching for the right words.

"Something on your mind?" he asked.

"I spoke to McGee," Tony began casually. "Vance and Fornell's cover story about a joint NCIS/FBI operation's holding up."

"I know."

"SecNav and the AG are tripping over themselves to take credit for bringing down the Mahoneys."

"Know that, too," Gibbs responded with a nod of his head.

Several more moments passed before Tony spoke again.

"They brought Ambrose in for questioning. As soon as he realised we had him cold for conspiracy to murder he rolled on the Mahoneys so fast he's suffering a bad case of whiplash."

Gibbs turned to Tony with a look hovering between bemusement and annoyance.

"You check yourself outta hospital to come tell me what I already know, DiNozzo?" he asked.

Tony shook his head no and took a long swig of beer.

"We have the rest of the week off but you're going in to the office tomorrow, aren't you?" he asked knowing his boss better than most.

"So are you," Gibbs countered.

Tony huffed a laugh and shook his head but the look in his eyes was anything but humourous.

"Was close this time, Boss," he said, rubbing his hand over his freshly shaved chin. "Too close. Think I'm gonna take the week. I need to work this through in my head."

Gibbs nodded silently and Tony sighed loudly before continuing.

"You ever wonder if its worth the risk…worth the sacrifice?" the younger man asked.

"Every damn day," Gibbs replied, placing his beer on the coffee table and then turning the steaks on the grill.

"Makes me wonder when our luck's gonna run out."

"You start fixating on not coming home, DiNozzo, it's time to turn in your badge."

Tony eyes dropped to the floor.

"I'm thinking about it, Boss," he said quietly.

Gibbs removed the steaks from the grill and dumped them unceremoniously on two plates. Both men reached for their pocket knives and began eating in silence. When they'd finished, Gibbs took the empty plates to the kitchen and returned handing Tony another drink. The younger man's eyebrows shot up.

"Come on, Boss," Tony protested. "Snapple?"

"You're on meds," Gibbs shrugged unapologetically. "I'm cutting you off."

With a look that conveyed his disapproval, Tony opened the Snapple and took a drink, grimacing at the taste of the sweet liquid. The two men fell into a comfortable silence, watching the hypnotic affect of the fire, before Tony spoke again.

"Is there a rule I don't know about, Boss?" he asked. "Maybe Rule number eighty-four - no matter how close you come to having your ass blown to hell you dust yourself off and go straight back to work."

Gibbs felt his gut tighten as the memory of the charred corpse and Tony's incinerated Mustang returned unbidden.

"You've done it before…" the lead agent stated.

"We both have," Tony replied as his mind flashed to an image of his Boss falling backwards down a metal staircase after narrowly escaping an explosion on a Deep Sea Explorer in Rota. He shook his head to rid his mind of the image. "This time it was different. You nearly died because of me."

"You didn't put the bomb around my neck, DiNozzo…you took it off."

Tony remained silent and Gibbs knew the younger man needed more.

"There's no rule for this one, Tony. You get a damn good team to watch your back," Gibbs hesitated slightly before turning to look his agent directly in the eyes. "and a partner you trust with your life. Then you get the job done, a day at a time."

The men sat quietly for a moment; their silence speaking words that would never be articulated.

"You did good, Tony," Gibbs said, not entirely hiding the pride in his voice.

"Thanks, Boss," Tony whispered, then yelped as a head slap stung the back of his head. "What was that for?"

"That was for disobeying my direct order and coming after me," Gibbs said, biting back a smirk.

"I think Mahoney hit you harder than you think, Boss, 'cause I did exactly what you said," Tony countered, still rubbing his head. "You told me to get it done and…I got it done."

Gibbs flashed a rare unbridled smile of his own.

"Yes, you did," he replied proudly.

He tapped his beer bottle against Tony's Snapple in a silent toast before both men emptied their bottles in one swallow. Gibbs gathered the bottles and headed for the kitchen.

"Hit the rack," he said over his shoulder. "Spare bedroom's made up. Sweats and toothbrush are in the dresser where you left them."

Tony grinned.

"If I didn't know better, Boss, I'd think you've been expecting me."

Gibbs shrugged then watched as his agent gingerly climb the stairs the to spare bedroom. This was definitely not the first time the younger man had come to him with thoughts of quitting after a rough case. Hell, he'd had those thoughts himself more times than he cared to remember.

Generally, company, a good meal and a good night's sleep were all that was required to clear Tony's mind and regain any lost perspective. Still, Gibbs knew there would come a day when enough was enough – he just hoped that day hadn't arrived.

"Boss?" Tony called from the top landing. "What time are we leaving tomorrow?"

"Get your ass outta bed by zero six hundred and we'll call by the diner on the way to work."

"If you're buying, I'm there," Tony said with a grin.

"I'm buying," Gibbs nodded feeling the tension of the evening lift.

"Night, Boss."

"Good night, DiNozzo."

THE END

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I hope the final chapter was worth the extraordinarily long wait. This will be my last story - at least for the foreseeable future. I have been lucky enough to receive enormous support from the FanFic community and have made many friends along the way. As my stories were written for FanFic readers, I will be leaving them on this site. Thank you for your kindness and support. With every good wish, Laine