Chapter Seven

Tim was running. He had never felt so light on his feet before, had never been so exhilarated. Somehow he knew he should be afraid. But the excitement pumped jolts of adrenaline through his veins sending him high as a kite. He suddenly understood why people took such risks. He could only imagine the thrill one could get from the terror of free-falling off a cliff.

Tim flew past doors; steel doors and all of them locked tight. None of them were the door he needed. Down the hall, just where it always had been, was the door he needed. He slammed against it, sliding behind and throwing it shut. Locking it with his Gift he looked up, triumphant into the face of his pursuer.

There was no shock seeing those intense blue eyes this time. Gibbs leaned against the door, rattling it as he tried to force it open. Tim leaned forward, close enough to the glass of the small window that it misted from his breath. The steel door was ice cold to his exercised warmed skin. His nose brushed the glass; that too was cold. Gibbs leaned in closer as well. He raised a finger, planting it on the glass opposite Tim's nose.

They were so close now, closer than they had ever been before. But still not close enough for Tim's satisfaction. On the other of the glass he could see Gibbs' lips moving, forming the words that he desperately want to hear. But no sound filtered through the glass. Ice blue eyes held him captive, Tim never wanted to be out of their sight.

He resumed the script. Grinning more cheekily than he thought himself capable Tim waved before turning to jog up the stairs. He ignored the doors on every level, daring the event to rewrite itself. With a sense of disappointment he arrived on the roof.

The gravel crunched loudly underfoot. In the distance he could hear the sound of nighttime traffic. The shadows shifted behind him, the hand reached out. Then the actors took the show off script.

Tim felt Gibbs grasp his arm and pull. He was spun around and his back hit the door to the stairs. Eyes wide Tim tried to move forward, but another hand caught his hip and pinned him to the door. Gibbs moved closer and closer, until their clothes were brushing. Tim could feel the heat radiating off his pursuer's body. Gibbs' face kept coming closer. Their cheeks touched as Gibbs' lips lightly brushed against Tim's ear. Tim gasped, shuddering pleasurably at the sensation as hot breath touched his skin.

"That didn't take long."

Ziva's fist slammed into his gut, forcing all of the air from his lungs.

Thrown off balance and gasping Tim collapsed, wheezing, onto the practice mats. Clutching at his abdomen in sucked in gulps of oxygen. Ziva stood above him, watching him flounder with a displeased expression.

"Fighting takes concentration Tim. You cannot allow yourself to fall into complacency, even if the training is repetitious." Coughing Tim managed to push himself to his knees. Ziva offered him a hand up. Wisely Tim did not take it. "If you allow yourself to fantasize every time training becomes monotonous, it will become habit to fantasize while you train. If you fantasize every time you train, it will become habit to fantasize every time you fight. If you fantasize every time you fight someone will use that opening to kill you."

Tim nodded, struggling to his feet. Ziva scoffed at his pained look.

"I did not hit you that hard Tim. That was merely a wake up call to bring you out of your fantasy."

Tim groaned, still clutching his gut.

"Some people are softer in that area than you Ziva. Can't you think of a wake up call a little less painful?"

"Would you like me to emulate Detective Gibbs and strike you on the back of the head?"

Her grin was wicked, for a moment Tim feared for his safety.

"No, never mind. I'd probably end up in a constantly concussed state."

Both went back to their work. Ziva returned to the kitchen table to work on Ari's code and, after regaining his balance, Tim resumed the set of high kicks Ziva had told him to practice.

The action was monotonous. One-hundred repetitions of one kick. Tim soon felt his muscles begin to strain, his mind begin to wander. He set his jaw with a fierce determination. No more giving Ziva reasons to hit him! She might eventually forget to check the blow.

Instead he focused on his movement. The fact that his ankle no longer twinged with pain, completely healed. Keeping the kick just as high as it had been the first time. He focused on his breathing, drawing the air in through his nose and pausing before releasing it slowly out his mouth. But focusing on himself wasn't enough. He was sure half of the reason for Ziva's hit had been because he wasn't paying attention to his surroundings.

Ziva sat at her kitchen table, printouts scattered in front of her and a pen in hand. Her brow was furrowed from her frown. It seemed as if every time they got close to cracking the code Ari created a new one. He could tell that the frustration was going to drive his friend to action. He wanted to be ready to accompany here when she made her move.

After finishing his last set of kicks Tim walked the perimeter of the room to cool himself down. We he decided he could rest without cramping up he joined Ziva at the kitchen table.

"You having any luck with the new code?"

"No!" She snarled, marking the paper so viciously the pen ripped through. "I have gone through every code-breaking technique I know and I am no closer than where I was last week!"

Tim picked through the papers with a frown. Ziva had marked up most of the pages with her notes, which were written in a mix of English and Hebrew. He could barely read the original message now.

"How about I print off another copy of this and tonight we can look at it together. Maybe a fresh set of eyes will help."

"No." Ziva turned to Tim. "We have other places to be tonight."

Tim raised an eyebrow.

"You mean you have other places to be tonight."

He doesn't really believe it's a grammatical slip though, doesn't want to believe, and the hope in him begins to rise.

"No, I meant we." Ziva pushes herself away from the table as she stands. "I am ill and exhausted of puzzling through Ari's codes. We are going to find a key."

Tim felt his excitement growing. His first mission back on the streets! Finally! A chance to test out his new skills. To see Gibbs again.

"Where are we going to find a key?"

Ziva smiled.

"We just need to ask find someone who knows it to make us a copy."

"So, we need to find someone to supply us with the information we need?" Tim and Ziva shared matching wicked looks. "We haven't visited our friend Jeffery in awhile. Maybe we should pay him a visit so he doesn't feel neglected."

"We would not want him to think we had forgotten about him."

Jeffrey White was one of many small time suppliers to Ari's organization. Originally from Seattle, Jeffrey had fled to the safe autonomy of Ari's blossoming Gifted organization after suspicion for a few violent murders landed on his shoulders. No one had known for sure if he had done it, but the fact that he had fled was pretty telling.

Jeffrey's gift was a blessing for a man in his business. When he first arrived in D.C. Jeffrey had made a living as a small time drug dealer. His Blend Gift allowed him to disappear into the background of any setting. It didn't make him invisible, but no one would see him unless they already knew he was there. It made things easy for Jeffrey to slip into drugstores and make off with something that would make him a quick buck. He still did sometimes, when Ari's business was slow.

They set out from the shop at dusk carrying both their masks and jackets to Ziva's car. Knowing that general area that Jeffrey usually haunted Ziva drove them in that direction while Tim pulled out his smart phone. He quickly pulled up an app that he had designed himself, for himself and Ziva. After plugging in the number of Jeffrey's cell phone he waited a few moments. Soon enough Jeffrey's coordinates were displayed on the apps map. When they neared the rundown neighborhood Ziva pulled the car over.

Both quickly pulled on their masks and jackets. As Tim studied the map Ziva pulled her hair back in a high ponytail. Handing her his phone Tim quickly took stock of his gear. The collapsible baton was buckled to his belt within easy reach and both pants pockets held a small can of pepper spray. He'd lain his gloves across his lap while he used his phone; now he pulled them on, grinning as he flexed his fingers.

"Here."

Tim blinked, surprised. Ziva was holding a short knife out to him. The blade looked to be around six inches long and extremely sharp. He took it from her with a raised eyebrow. Hadn't she told him that he wasn't allowed a dangerous weapon?

"There is a sheath for it built into your boot. I told Malachi you are left handed, he should have sent the right kind of boots." Tim leaned forward, probing about the boot and sheathing the knife. Ziva leaned across the console between them, he intense look amplified by her black mask. "Do not use this knife unless there is no other option! Do not draw it to intimidate someone. That is what the baton is for. Do not use it to deter someone, use the pepper spray instead."

Reaching out she snagged a hold of Tim's chin, turning his face towards her.

"You are only allowed to use that knife if you are completely alone and likely about to die."

Gulping nervously Tim nodded. Ziva smiled and patted his cheek.

"Good."

The two got out of the car, Ziva didn't bother locking it. She had bought the old Chevy Cavalier used at a good price. They needed to be able to get in the car quickly if they were being pursued and they old car didn't have electronic locks. If someone decided to steal it, it would just get stolen. They would have to store their gear in bags and take a bus or a cab home.

Together they crept through the shadowed alleyways. Now that the sun had set the streetlights were bright, the ones that weren't smashed. Most of the buildings they past were empty, shops that were closed. A few were bars that were just beginning to fill up. One large building had been converted into a nightclub, music and the sound of people blaring loudly.

Occasionally they would run across someone in the alleys. A bartender bringing out trash or a couple whose activities were progressing beyond what the nightclub staff would allow inside.

When they ran across these people they slinked past, keeping to the shadows. Once an attentive bartender heard them and started towards the dumpsters hiding them to identify what he had heard. Tim stared, wide eyed, at Ziva completely at a loss for what to do. He was completely unprepared when Ziva hissed at him. Shaking his head in confusion Ziva leaned forward and knocked around the trash on the ground. The bartender turned around, muttering about 'damn cats' and went back into his bar. The two continued on their way.

They found Jeffery in an alleyway a few blocks away from the nightclub. He was in the middle of a sale so the two hid behind a dumpster to watch. The short man didn't look much like a drug dealer. His glasses were thick rimmed and his loose button up shirt was tucked into his pants. The old pair of jeans and worn tennis shoes he wore looked to have been picked up from a second hand store.

A group of three teenagers dressed for a party crowded around him. They each contributed a few bills and received a baggie full of little pills. They headed towards the nightclub and had each taken a pill by the time they reached the mouth of the alley. Tim watched them go, shaking his head with shame. They looked to be about Sarah's age, could have been her classmates! Sarah knew better though, he had made sure of that before he left for MIT.

Ziva tapped Tim on the shoulder, motioning for him to stay put. He nodded and watched as she backed up slowly and clambered up a fire escape.

Jeffrey quickly counted the bills, separating the largest and smallest. Glancing about nervously he put them into separate pockets. Tim couldn't tell if the man was aware that he was being observed or if all drug dealers were this twitchy. Jeffrey's eyes swept the alley again before he took the larger bills and bent down to stash them inside a shoe.

He had just began to rise when Ziva chose to pounce.

For a moment the alley was filled with Jeffrey's screams. Then Ziva cut him off with a hand over his mouth. He tried to use his Gift to escape out of sight, but Ziva held him in a vice like grip, refusing to let him go. Tim jumped up from his hiding place to aid him friend. Not that she needed it.

Jeffrey was on the ground by the time Tim emerged from behind the dumpster, he didn't bother rushing over. The smaller man thrashed under Ziva, his glasses precariously balanced on the end of his nose. Pitiful sounds slipped past the hand wrapped around his mouth. Tim approached slowly and at a signal from his partner he crouched down to tap Jeffrey on the shoulder.

Jeffrey's eyes were squeezed tightly shut with tears prickling in the corners. At Tim's tap he hesitantly opened them, tilting his head to see through his skewed glasses. Catching sight of Tim's grinning face he stilled completely, except for his furiously shaking head. Now that he wasn't fighting them Ziva released him and the two vigilantes stood.

"No, no, no!" Jeffrey stayed on the ground, looking around the alley as if he expected Ari's men to appear out of the darkness any second. "You can't be here! You can't keep talking to me like this. You're going to get me killed!"

He scrambled to his feet, straightening his clothes and brushing at stains that had probably been there before he bought them. Fixing his glasses he once again surveyed the area. When no thugs with guns appeared he glared at his two assailants.

"You can't keep coming to me like this. If Saleem or Ari finds out they will kill me. But before they do that they will turn me over to those sadists Pazzo and Hirst to find out how much I told you. Those bastards have the Pain Gift!"

Tim managed to hide his wince. He had imagined that Ari's gang had someone with that particular Gift. But it was still slightly horrifying to have it confirmed. Ziva smiled, seemingly unconcerned.

"How many times have you ever seen Saleem Jeffrey? How many times have you spoken with Ari?" Jeffrey flushed. "If they do not associate with the peons now and you do not do something stupid to attract their attention they will not pay attention to you in the future."

Jeffrey's shoulders slumped, looking to the disgusting concrete between his feet. For a moment Tim caught sight of a fury on his face, but as he looked up Jeffrey only looked resigned.

"Fine, fine. Now what do you want?"

Tim stepped forward.

"Ari has began coding the messages he sends to the organization. Every time we get close to cracking it he changes the code." Jeffrey flinched. "We want you to give us the key."

Jeffrey shrugged his shoulders.

"I can't help you. We don't get a copy of the key, they make us memorize it."

Tim smiled.

"That's fine. You can write it down for us."

Jeffrey shook his head.

"I don't have no paper."

Ziva pulled a small notepad and pen from a pocket. Jeffrey took it with a frown. He sent them one last pleading glance before he began jotting down the key to the code. Writing quickly he muttered to himself, occasionally shooting them hateful glances. Eventually he handed the notepad back to Ziva, who glanced over it quickly before she shoved it back into her pocket.

"This key had better be right Jeffrey." Tim leaned in close, poking the shorter man in the chest. "Otherwise we'll be back." He shot Ziva a conspiratorial glance. "And if we find out you double crossed us, you'll only wish you were with Pazzo and Hirst."

Jeffrey glanced to Ziva wearily. She smiled, waving to him coyly. A commotion at the mouth of the alley caught all of their attention. Four thugs, all outfitted with some form of weapon, were searching around the dumpsters. They were calling Jeffrey's name. The mans face was ashen. Because he was afraid to be caught with them or because he was afraid of the thugs Tim didn't know. He raised an eyebrow.

"Friends of yours?"

Jeffrey shook his head violently.

"I owe them money."

Ziva nodded, shoving him towards the other end of the alley.

"We will deal with them for now. Get out of here."

For a moment a myriad of emotions filtered across Jeffrey's face; shock, confusion, gratitude and regret. Then he activated his Gift and disappeared from sight.

Tim turned his eyes to Ziva. She was leaning against the dumpster, watching the approaching men with what at first glance appeared to be boredom. But to Tim's trained eye he could see that she was evaluating them; their strengths and weaknesses. The weapons they carried.

All four were armed with something or other. The tallest carried a length of heavy chain. The shortest a rusted and bent pipe. The twitchy fellow in the middle kept swinging his baseball bat nervously and the last carried a long knife.

Tim leaned against the dumpster next to Ziva attempting to mimic her posture. The four were drawing closer and closer. Ziva looked at him out of the corner of her eye. Tim saw her lip quirk into a smile.

"Let us think of this as 'on the job' training. Baseball bat and Knife are mine."

Nodding Tim fingered the baton on his belt. Swallowing he tried to ease the nervous feeling in his gut. 'Just remember your training,' he told himself. 'Remember the training and everything will be fine.'

Chain spotted them first. He called to his friends and the four thugs approached arrogantly. Ziva pushed off the dumpster and a moment later Tim followed. He was sure that Knife wasn't expecting Ziva's kick to his face when the two groups drew close. The shocked stillness only lasted a moment before all four screamed with rage and attacked.

-NCIS-

Tony was on the last of the sandwiches that he had brought with him. He chewed slowly, nose crinkled with disgusted. The bread was soggy from being in a cooler all day. Sitting low in the drivers' seat he kept a close eye on two of the three entrances to the nightclub.

Tony had been thrilled to receive a case that didn't involve a cheating husband. An old Marine buddy of Gibbs' was now the Maine State Senator. The Senator believed that his aide was selling government secrets, but hadn't wanted to bring in the authorities until he was sure. He had hired Gibbs and DiNozzo to confirm his suspicions three weeks ago. After three weeks of surveillance Tony had decided that watching a corrupt Senators aide was a lot like watching a cheating husband.

So far for three weeks Tony had observed the purchase of new clothes, a test drive of a Ferrari and a whole lot of hookers. Tony wasn't sure if the two women the aide had escorted into the nightclub tonight were hookers. It was highly likely though.

A commotion coming from an alley down the street caught Tony's attention. Several figures spilled out onto the street, clearly in the middle of a brawl. Tony raised his digital camera, zooming in on the figures and snapping a few shots. You never knew what could come in useful later. When in doubt photograph everything.

He almost dropped the camera in shock when he recognized two of the figures. Batchick and her Boy Wonder! Abruptly he tossed the camera into the passenger seat, checking that he had his gun before jumping out of his car. As he neared the six fighters he fished his badge.

The four thugs were armed but the two vigilantes were not helpless. As he neared Tony could clearly see that the Boy Wonder hadn't just been sitting on his ass for the last two months. The man with the chain ran at him, swinging the heavy weapon violently. Ducking underneath, the Technopath turned, slamming a shoulder into the other mans chest as he swept his feet out from under him. Chain-man fell and his chain was quickly kicked out of reach.

Batchick was doing very well for herself. Baseball bat and Knife attacked her at the same time. She ducked and weaved between the two, never throwing a blow of her own. Just letting the two lugs beat on each other.

Chain-man was rising to his feet as Tony approached. Quickly he drew his weapon and yelled.

"Freeze! You're all under arrest!"

Instantly all four thugs abandoned the fight, fleeing into the dark alleys. Batchick turned to him, grinning widely, while Boy Wonder bent over, resting his hands on his knees and panting heavily. Batchick turned to him with a critical eye.

"You have not been practicing your breathing exercises."

Boy Wonder shook his head, breathing deeply.

"I have. Just in the moment...I forgot."

Tony kept his gun trained on the two.

"So, you two have completely embraced the vigilante lifestyle huh? Going around kickin' ass and takin' names where ever evil lurks?" He leered at the woman when she turned to him. "Batchick, always a pleasure." He grinned at the man. "Boy Wonder! I see you're back to work!"

The kid stood up, back ramrod straight, a look of surprised embarrassment on his face.

"Boy Wonder? No, I'm not her sidekick!"

Tony laughed snidely.

"Yes, yes you are."

Boy Wonder shook his head, glancing between Tony and Batchick. She was having a hard time keeping a straight face.

"No, we are partners! I'm not her sidekick, I'm her partner."

"She's you boss!"

Batchick coughed and Boy Wonder's face flushed. Tony gestured back towards his car with the gun.

"So, like I said, both of you are under arrest. Are you going to come along quietly? Or do I need to use force?"

Boy Wonder glanced at Batchick nervously. It was so obvious how inexperienced the kid was sometimes. Tony had to agree with Gibbs on this one. She needed to keep him safe back at home base.

"Do you really think that you can take on the both of us and win?"

Batchick was a cool customer.

"Well, I don't have to take on both of you. That's what the gun is for."

"Do you really expect us to believe that you would shoot us Detective DiNozzo? After all, we aren't criminals. We are almost on the same side."

Tony frowned. She had a point, he wouldn't shoot them. Usually he got the perp's handcuffed and in the car before they figured that out.

"A fight between us would not end well for anyone Detective DiNozzo. What do you say we call this a good try and go our separate ways?"

Tony sighed, before holstering his gun and dropping his badge back into his pocket.

"Alright, but this is the last freebie you get! Next time I see you, you gonna be spending the night in a jail cell."

Batchick and Boy Wonder didn't stick around. A few moments after the gun disappeared they had as well. Tony stared down the alley for a few minutes. Trying to decided whether to try and follow them or not. Deciding against it he returned to his car. The Senator's aide was probably long gone by now. No use sticking around here. He should probably update Gibbs on the situation anyway. Well, the situations.

He sighed, sliding into the drivers' seat. Gibbs was going to be pissed.

The drive to the craftsman style home that Gibbs shared with his boat didn't take as long as Tony had wished it could have. Traffic was fairly scarce this time of night. At least it was on the shortcuts Tony took by habit. Pulling into the driveway he cursed himself for not taking the scenic route.

Gibbs' door was unlocked, like always. Tony slipped inside quickly taking stock of the cluttered living room and the dish filled sink on his way to the basement stairs. As he stepped onto the staircase he could see Gibbs looking up. When he saw who had come in he went back to his sanding. The man always seemed to be sanding when Tony came over.

"Hey Boss. You'll never guess who I ran into tonight."

Gibbs put down the sander-tool-thingy, walking over to the shelf to pull down a half empty bottle of bourbon. Tony made a face when he was presented a Mason jar that's prior occupation in life was holding rusty nails. By hey, he'd had his tetanus shot. He took the glass and sipped at it, only wincing with disgust when Gibbs' back was turned.

"Our Israeli friend?"

Tony nodded.

"Yep and she wasn't alone."

Gibbs rounded abruptly. His face a mask of barely concealed rage.

"She brought the kid back out onto the streets?"

Tony nodded.

"She's been training him it seems. They were whipping up a couple of street thugs when I saw em. He wasn't doing too bad. Also, apparently he doesn't like being called a sidekick. Seems to have a very sensitive ego. Got very defensive about it."

Gibbs cocked an eyebrow, staring Tony down.

"And I of course brought that up one sidekick to another Boss." Gibbs turned back to his boat, taking another swig of bourbon. Tony almost sighed with relief. "So why did you tell me not to call you if I saw them? That's a pretty odd request. Do you think the kids tracking out phone conversations?"

"Not him."

Tony's eyes narrowed.

"But someone is?"

Gibbs raised a finger for silence as he turned on the small-outdated radio on his shelf. Tony's worry grew and he leaned close to whisper.

"Boss, did someone bug your basement? I can go get Abby and we can sweep the house."

"No, if there are bugs it be suspicious for them to disappear."

Tony nodded.

"So who's listening in on you?"

"Pacci gave me the heads up. Apparently the CIA and FBI have been nosing around some of our crime scenes."

Tony's eyebrows shot into his hairline.

"What do they want with you?"

Gibbs beckoned Tony closer. He leaned in, listening intently. He didn't expect the whack to the back of his head.

"They don't want anything to do with me. It's the possible 1st degree Technopath that has them chomping at the bit."

Realization struck. That made a lot more sense and it was very worrying.

"If he keeps using his Gift in public he's just going to make it easier for them to find him Boss!" Another thought occurred to him. "We can't bring him in. If we do he'll just vanish from the cell. The CIA will have him spirited off to some Top Secret hideout and who knows what they will do to him!"

Gibbs frowned. Tony was momentarily surprised to see how much this was worrying the older man. He knew why he was worried. But Gibbs had only met the kid, what, the once? He knew what those big green eyes did to some people, but had Gibbs succumbed to them as well?

Tony watched as Gibbs put the mug down and pick up the sander-tool-thingy again.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it. For now though, no discussing them on the phone, or without some sound to cover a bug, no reporting them to the police either. They're showing up at past crime scenes to look for evidence, best to keep them as out of the loop as possible."

Tony nodded, taking another swig of bourbon. It wasn't so bad once you got the hang of it.

"Now, what happened with the Senator's aide?"

Well, crap.