Note: This story is not made for the weak at heart, it wasn't originally supposed to be a Fan-Fiction but the original story was from a screenplay written for my Media and Film class specifically dealing with the way that movies such as Saw have affected our viewpoints on society. The following is gruesome yes, but there is a point to it. Some things have changed since this was originally published, and since the editing of the screenplay and this idea has been completed it should make more sense and be less of a distasteful thing as before. I apologize to those reviewers who loved the beginning but I inevitably lost soon after, I hope those reviewers return to see this new piece and can at least go through it. There is a point, I promise and I'm not trying to simply be cruel or gruesome. I love these characters as much any other fan, it is this reason that when we were told to adapt it to something that we were actively interested in I decided to do so with NCIS. I do hope those who have started with continue reading and give feedback; while the class project is complete my writing is hopefully not.
Second Authors Note: I apologize for the last posting. For those that read through it and found it to be parts of the original it is because I didn't update the separate parts of the story because it slipped my mind. I'm fixing it now, to reflect on what the master has. I know that it probably makes no sense to you all at the moment, but the fact is you've met the players. The next chapters will happen quickly and will tell you what happens both with evidence and plot. Like I said, this wasn't supposed to be an FF and it wasn't supposed to go this long. The original for class was not supposed to have a conclusion, so after part 5 everything is new stuff specifically for this audience. I promise it will all make sense, its posted in a specific order that means nothing at the moment but in the end will mean something.
"I own nothing NCIS, but if Bellisario doesn't want it any more I'll steal it away."
Part 1: Introduction to Death
"It's been a long time since I've had a conversation with myself, well not too long but long enough to know that I don't like them. They are too personal, too confrontational, and too emotional. I guess the first time was almost...four years ago. It was a case, undercover the normal spiel. I got too close, dumb me right? Always thinking I can be the hero, but being spotted getting too frisky with the pretty waitress worked. For the most part, I was following a marine named Sacco. Shoulda figured that the dizziness and the bad eyesight was a bad sign, and Gibbs knew something wasn't right. Hell so did I! But it was too late, and I was screwed.
The second time, I had put myself there. Some dumb idea of mine to go undercover as an escaped convict. Yeah, chain yourself to a lethal counterpart and go trekking through the forest with no contact but what you can think of to leave for your teammates. It worked out though, sort of. Gibbs made me take a short hiatus, but pain like that lingers and it stuck with me for a while. But I got over him, I always get over them. Just lock them away and move on.
But the third time, I don't think I'd ever felt pain like that before until now. I got sick. Real sick, and really fast. Kate and I...oh...god Kate. We were exposed to Y-Pestis, a nasty little plague that slipped away from her and took me. Well nearly took me, but I made it, just like I made it all those other times. But now, in this place...
…well, I guess making it's out of the question."
His fingers ran over the smooth button of the tape recorder and it clicked off, the drop of sweat that had been building on his brow ran down his nose and fell from its tip to splatter lifelessly to the floor he had been propped on. The hard metal of a steel toed boot found his ribs and a grunted gasp held on his lips as he curled up in pain. He had been missing for weeks, they kept him updated on how many days he had been here and it ran for a total of 79 days and 18 hours. But time meant nothing any more, not when a death sentence had been given and all he had left to do was wait. Wait for the inevitable.
November 22nd, 2007 Thanksgiving Morning 0700
It had been a short week, days had slipped away and it seemed inevitable before the short break would come where some of them didn't have to remain home alone. But Tony and Gibbs always did, they worked through the holiday, they ignored the trivial break and since neither left to go see family or whatever the others did they had their own little way of feasting.
Tony's feet were propped up against the hard metal surface of the desk, his hands crossed behind his neck and a pizza box in his lap. Across from him Gibbs eyes were slowly closing as he stared at an open file. A cold case that had never gone anywhere in twenty years, but was up for review. "Hey boss, is this the slowest day or what?"
Gibbs blinked the sleep from his eyes and raised them to gaze at Tony, "Even criminals have family DiNozzo." His eyes fell back to the file and he slipped his fingers to leaf through the next page or so. The comment hit Tony as it was supposed to and his feet swung off the desk and slammed against the floor. Both men were tired, and both had let the day get the best of them, but Tony's handling and Gibbs' handling of stress were two different things. But, they understood each other. His lips curled into a smile and he pulled himself upwards, the pizza box slipped off his lap and landed unceremoniously against the floor with a dull slap.
"Alright Boss, I get it." His hand pushed his chair in as he simultaneously grabbed his coat in one motion. "Black right?" He smirked and headed towards the elevator, pulling on the overcoat and hugging it tight to him. Even though the office was warm, the outside cold of the D.C. winter hung like a harsh reality and the thought of it didn't hit Tony the right way. He pushed the cold steel button and that soft white glow of light was his only reassurance that the elevator would come and give him a short break from this slow existence.
The beeping of the elevator made him move on instinct and he shifted inside to the eerie fake glow of fluorescent lighting. The doors closed and he got one last smile off towards Gibbs, one of those flyboy grins of his that reflected his personality to a tee. And then the soft hum of the elevator took him away and he was gone, but no one thought gone was a final word. It never held that finality that it did 72 hours later, when DiNozzo did not report back and his car and cell were found in the parking lot of NCIS door open and blood splattered on the inside handle. Only then, did it occur to anyone that gone could actually mean gone.