A/N: Tony/Tim friendship, no slash. I don't own NCIS, yadda yadda. Please read and review! I love reviews! -abby
This was wrong. He didn't know how he'd gotten here, but he knew that "here" wasn't anywhere good. Tony slowly pried open his eyes and tried – unsuccessfully - to look around. The room was pitch black. The only thing he could tell for sure was that he was tied up, lying on his side on the cold, damp floor. And was that someone lying against him?
"Hello?" Tony's voice sounded strange and echoed in the dark room. "Who's there?"
The body lying next to him shifted slightly and moaned. "Tony? Is that you?" McGee asked groggily.
"Yeah, Probie, it's me. Where are we? Do you remember anything?" Tony tried to recall what he had been doing before waking up in this place but wasn't coming up with much. "We were at the Navy Yard…?" He trailed off, and closed his eyes. Head hurts…didn't notice that before, he thought.
"I don't know. We were going to Norfolk, right? For…something? I can't quite remember…" Tim sounded as confused as Tony felt.
Tony spoke slowly, thinking out loud. "That's right, we were on the way to Norfolk and then we smelled something weird. There was some sort of gas coming out of the air conditioning vents…but I don't remember anything after that…"
The two agents were so lost in thought that they didn't hear the footsteps until the door flew open and the room was flooded in light. They winced as their eyes adjusted to the sudden change.
"Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. Special Agent Timothy McGee. So nice to have you here with us." The voice was muffled by the ski mask their captor wore over his face.
"What do you want?" Tony demanded. His only answer was a sharp kick to the ribs. The senior agent gasped and drew his knees into his chest. Tim cringed in sympathy.
"What I want is not important. What I have is the important thing. And I have two agents from NCIS. Two of the best, from what I understand. You work for one Leroy Jethro Gibbs, is that correct?" When he didn't immediately get a response, the man kicked DiNozzo in the chest once more. There was a dull crack as one of Tony's ribs gave under the blow. The agent bit his lip to stifle a cry of pain, refusing to give his attacker the satisfaction.
"Maybe you should learn some respect. It's very rude to ignore someone who asked you a question." Their captor's tone became dangerous as he knelt beside DiNozzo. "Someone could get hurt." Then he stood and abruptly left the room, locking the door behind him.
"At least he left the lights on this time," Tim said, as he struggled to sit upright. It wasn't easy with his hands tightly bound behind his back, but after some grunting and rolling he made it. "Tony, you're bleeding," the junior agent said with concern.
"Hm," Tony said, still trying to catch his breath after having the wind knocked out of him a second time.
"You've got a really bad gash on your arm. I need to get my hands free." Tim looked around for something that would help him cut through the ropes binding his wrists. There was a metal bed frame in the corner that seemed promising. Tim scooted backwards across the floor until he reached it. It took quite a while for him to wear through the tight bindings, but once he had done so he crawled back over to Tony.
DiNozzo rolled toward his stomach so that McGee could untie him, moaning softly as the movement put pressure on his newly injured ribs. Tim quickly freed the senior agent and helped him sit against the wall. Tony leaned his head back and kept his eyes closed. Once the senior agent was settled, Tim gently examined his left arm. There was a ragged tear starting from Tony's wrist that reached almost to his elbow.
"It's pretty bad, Tony. You'll definitely need stitches whenever we get out of here." For now, the best McGee could do was to tear a few strips of fabric off his shirt and try to slow the bleeding. Tony sat quietly under the younger man's ministrations, whimpering slightly when McGee pulled the makeshift bandages tight. When Tim was done, he leaned against the wall next to his partner.
"You know, you don't look so hot either, Probie." Tony quietly pointed out. "It looks like you hit your head. I wish I could remember how we ended up here." He closed his eyes again, trying to recall anything beyond the odd smell in the car. "We must have been drugged."
Tim nodded. "Did we run off the road? If we crashed that would explain your arm and my head." He kind of wished Tony hadn't pointed out his head injury. He hadn't noticed the throbbing before.
"Maybe. I guess the bigger question is, where are we?" Tony slowly hauled himself upright, keeping his injured arm carefully tucked into his chest as he used the wall for support. "There's got to be a way out of here." He walked the perimeter of the tiny cell, which wasn't bigger than ten feet square. "No windows, nothing. Not even a doorknob on this side," he said thoughtfully.
McGee looked defeated. "Now what?"
Tony wasn't worried. "Now we wait for Gibbs. Don't worry, Probie. He'll find us."