A/n:I'll try and keep these to a minimum. Not many people read them much anyways. So, no, I am not abandoning any of my other stories. And yes, I have had this idea in my mind for a while. It was a dream that I had, so yeah. I was quite enamored with the idea. I'll be trying to update regularly. But you know how life goes…. I'll be including warnings at the beginning of the chapter. Possibly summaries. Oh, right, and I don't own the song title. But it is a cool one, ne?
And there might be slash. Possibly. I haven't decided yet. So no pairings as of now. But if you might be offended by slash, you are warned. I'll warn every other chapter if I decide to go ahead with it.
Warnings: None for this chapter but a bit of swearing and mock violence
Summary: Sometimes the most carefree faces hide the biggest secrets. The team learns this valuable lesson when a string of murders shows that there is more to Anthony DiNozzo than meets the eye.
Note: Just plain italics means that it's Tony's thoughts.
And I am looking for a Beta. Note me if you are interested or drop me a line.
Seven Nation Army
By Tokio Rose
"Prologue: Viva La Mentira"
Why, oh God, why had he been dragged here? Why had he let them say that it would be fun? Why, oh God, why was he getting dressed, pulling on his work out clothing? It wasn't like he couldn't come up with a lie. He had done it before. On the spur of the moment, he could pull anything out of his ass. Gibbs might catch it, might get a reaming even, but it would be better than… than this.
Green eyes, the color of freshly cut grass, scanned dutifully over his partner. His gaze flicked from behind the thickest lashes. They traversed deftly over the form of his partner- the lithe body, the gentle swell of her chest, the way that her legs were splayed in manner that spoke of ease on the mat; however, the most telling feature was the grin that was spreading across her strong features. The grin, it made him shiver with the way that it curled the corner of her lips, made her eyes sparkle. Count on Ziva to find humor and pleasure in his obvious discomfort.
"Are you ready, Tony?" She purred, accent thick and draping over the words. Tony barely registered it, sending her back a cocky, confident smirk.
"Baby, I was born ready," The expected response brought a snort from McGee who was sitting over on the side. He had his arms crossed over his chest, looking a bit less than pleased that he had been dragged down as well.
Join the club, Tony thought, blithely. He jerked his head to the side a bit, a subconscious reaction to the fierceness of the other gaze that was affixed to him. It didn't waver. Didn't move at all. It just stared at him, causing a shiver to march up and down his back. Gibbs had the ability to turn his world on a full axis tilt. He had, after all, been the one who had suggested that the team release some of the pent up energy in the gym. Though Tony had a sinking feeling that Gibbs just wanted to see him get his ass kicked. Why else would he have paired them up this way?
"No sucker punches," Tony called over the sound of the other agents in the gym, setting down the ground rules. Ziva, against her claims to the contrary, would fight dirty if it called for it. "No hitting below the belt," Tony rectified. "No rabbit punches," He talked out of the side of his mouth, taking on the sound of an old time announcer, green eyes lighting. Ziva rolled her eyes.
"Let's get this movie on the road," Ziva shifted from foot to foot, frowning a bit.
"Show, Ziva," Tony groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Let's get this show on the road," Brown eyes rolled, and Ziva settled back into a position that she seemed the most comfortable with. Her palm was face forward, fingers curling in on themselves and beckoning Tony forward.
"It does not matter," The Israeli woman quipped. "The fact stills stands that you are standing there like a little scared kitten. I am going to kick your butt. That was correct, yes?" Tony took up his position on the side, legs bending ever so slightly. Gibbs recognized the stance instantly. It was the one that DiNozzo used with him whenever they sparred. The man sighed in exasperation. Already his cocky senior agent was starting off on the wrong foot. Tony was good, but not that good. And quite frankly, with that stance, Ziva was better.
"Ladies first!" Tony called across the mat, bouncing on his feet back and forth. Like a jack in the box. He couldn't sit still. Whether it was nerves or something else, the man was shaking his hands to the side, rolling his neck. He looked all hyped and ready, but when Ziva raced forward, aiming a hard upper jab to his forehead, he barely had enough time to block. His large hands came up, forearms bracing in front of his face.
I love my arms. I love my arms. I love my arms. The agent repeated over and over and over again in his head as the smaller woman backed up, giving him time to throw a half-hearted jab toward her head. She smirked, her white teeth flashing against her lips. Not good. Oh shit. Really, really not good, Tony had about three seconds to let out a strangled "Oh hell-" before the small woman jerked him over her hip, using the momentum of his larger body and the power behind his punch to send him flying.
Listening intently, he barely had time to register a "roll, DiNozzo, ROLL!" before his head smacked against the ground, ricocheting of the tile that he had flown toward with a resounding crack that made his teeth chatter and his vision swim.
"Get up," That voice. He knew that voice. It was English that they were speaking, but a familiar accent pervaded all the words. It was gentle like a lullaby, the accent, but the words were harsh. Not the normal level tone that Tony normally associated with that voice..
Okay, DiNozzo, pull yourself together and find out where the hell you are.
Green eyes blinked lazily open, met with a brown face and dark, chocolate eyes that peered down at him through a prominent brown. The Tony let out a silent snarl.
"Are you a man," Arabic. The person was speaking in an Arabic accent from what Tony could understand. "Or are you a woman. I did not hit you that hard. You need to get up. We still have work to do." Work, is that what this bastard called work? His gaze moved, peering out from behind a thick fringe of bangs. Oh, he needed a hair cut when they got back. Back home.
What was home, anyways? Where were his men? They had to be somewhere in this placed. He looked about, noting the blank, blasé walls. Nothing that gave him any sort of information about his men's location. They weren't in the room, that much was obvious. That meant that they were somewhere else on the base. Somewhere having who-knows-what done to them. Rage, an uncommon feeling, boiled in the pit of his stomach and Tony glared, eyes harsh and dangerous. The person recoiled a bit, backing their head away ever so slightly from Tony's line of vision.
The Middle Eastern person was smart. But not as smart as he was. Tony grinned to himself, shaking his arms a bit. They were weak, pinned down by the weight of the person against the floor. How long had he been here? Did it matter? The person was stupid. A Stupid idiot. Didn't they know how easy it was to get out of that?
"You are even more of an idiot," Tony replied, Arabic words spilling easily from his lips. "If you think that I am going to tell you anything. Stupid Bitch." He kicked his legs forward, using them as a sort of level to flip their positions, arm coming down with an uncanny speed to land right on the person's throat while his legs straddled the body beneath him. He could feel the power. The heady feeling of the heart beat beneath his hands. He could hear the harsh breathing of the air beneath him, feel the chest rise and fall. They were going to pay. They had to pay. They had to pay for what they were doing to his men. What they had done to his team.
"Tony!" How did they know his name? The voice strangled and gasped, scrabbling at his forearm. Long nails, long feminine nails scraped against his bare forearm, digging in. The person beneath him was a female then.
"Where are they?" He hissed in Arabic. "Where are they at?"
"I don't know what you are talking about!" Worried now, the voice was dripping with something that he didn't think it possible of feeling. Fear. They were afraid. Why were they afraid? "Tony, you have to get off of me!"
Someone was touching his shoulder, pulling at him. He snarled a bit, pressing down a bit harder, green eyes nearly white and glassy and not Tony-like at all.
"Tony! You're hurting her, stop! You're going to kill her!" Another voice? An American one. His eyes flicked upwards, searching for the voice. There were arms on his shoulders, shaking him, hard. Hard enough that his head rocked back and forth, and his teeth snapped together. It happened hard enough that he barely had time to pull his tongue through his teeth and avoid it getting snapped off.
"DINOZZO!" A head slap, hard. An explosion of pain danced behind his eyelids. Nobody knew his name. They shouldn't know Anthony DiNozzo. Nobody knew Anthony DiNozzo. That meant that…
Green eyes blinked, and Tony slowly swayed, allowing the arms that were pulling at him insistently to yank him back and off of the body beneath him. The person arched upwards, coughing and hacking.
"Breathe, David, Breathe," Gibbs whispered, rubbing the back of the Mossad woman. His blue gaze flicked over to his senior field agent who was blinking, staring about the hushed room. His lips were parted, breathing harshly in and out, and his pupils were contracted to mere pinpoints. His attention turned back to Ziva who had stopped her hacking and was breathing deeply in and out.
Well, it would be an understatement to say that he couldn't understand just what the hell had happened. One moment, DiNozzo was flying through the air, Ziva following after him and effectively pinning him, the next he was moving quicker and more fluidly than Gibbs had ever seen, pinning the woman beneath him and whispering things that Gibbs couldn't hear.
"What were you saying to me, Tony?" Ziva whispered, voice lightly and airy. It was scratchy too, and Gibbs winced. He looked over at his SIC that was panting lightly, a sheen of sweat whispering over his brow. He looked a bit like he was going to be sick and was holding his head in his hands.
"I don't know," Tony groaned. "I don't think that…"
"It was Arabic," Brown eyes were stronger now, and she was crawling forward, lightly taking his hands away from the back of his skull. They came back red and sticky, and her own fingers were coated with the substance. The copper tang filled her nostrils. So maybe she had been a bit harsh, it looked as if DiNozzo was concussed in the least. She wiped the sticky substance on her black sweat pants. "Where did you learn that?"
"No, I don't know…" Tony was mumbling now, looking down at his hands a bit oddly. "What do you mean? We were just sparring. I just…"
"Nearly killed David, now what the hell happened, DiNozzo?" Gibbs stalked forward, bending down so that he was looking at Tony who was staring a bit confused outwards.
"I… I…" He swayed a bit, eyes blinking back and forth. "I don't feel so good, Boss." Gibbs swore, taking a quick, cursory glance of the back of Tony's head. His fingers quested over the short, soft locks, coming back with the sticky red of blood.
"Dammit," Gibbs hissed, motioning for McGee who hurried forward, regarding Tony with a bit of a scared look in his eyes. "Oh hell, McGee, take him down to Ducky. See if he can sort out what's wrong." McGee didn't seem to hear. Gibbs growled, looking up. "Any moment, McGee. He's obviously not going to be doing much but puking on my shoes if you don't get a move on it."
That seemed to snap the younger male out of it at any rate.
"On it Boss," Tim muttered, bending down and lightly threading his arm around Tony's chest. The man was heavy, but not obnoxiously so. And he had a firm presence. Tim lifted a bit. "Come on, Tony, you're going to have to help me out a bit here." Tony mumbled an apology, feet not cooperating for a moment before he finally got a bearing about him and leaned heavily upon the smaller male.
"Don't think that this means we're friends, Probie," Tony groaned, voice slurring ever so slightly. Tim rolled his eyes.
"I wouldn't dream of it, Tony. Now come on, or do you want me to carry you all the way down there?" Dragging the semi-coherent Agent DiNozzo along, Tim stopped to give a glance to Gibbs who waved him on and then turned to face Ziva.
A troubled look spread across her features and she was rubbing her neck absently. Livid bruises spread over golden flesh, marring the almost perfect column of her throat. She didn't seem upset, on the contrary, she seemed quite intrigued. Already, Gibbs could see the gears turning in her head.
"He was speaking Arabic. Quite fluently," She rasped.
"DiNozzo doesn't know Arabic. He doesn't even know any other languages that I can think of besides Spanish and a bit of Italian," Gibbs shook his head. "I would know if he did. Check his dossier," He shrugged. "Maybe you were mistaken. "
"I am not mistaken," Ziva hissed, indignantly. "He first called me an idiot, then said that he wasn't going to tell me anything, then asked where 'they' were," Her thoughtful gaze turned to Gibbs. "If I am not mistaken, it seems as if he has been in a similar situation before."
"DiNozzo has been in plenty of bad situations, David," Gibbs protested, "Don't put too much stock in it."
"You know as well as I do that Anthony DiNozzo has not been entirely honest with us. With you," She stood, rubbing off her butt and rolling her neck a bit. "And it would be best if you looked into it."
"And who is the boss here? When I want your opinion on how to run my team, I'll ask it." Gibbs hissed, low and deadly. Ziva shrugged, turning and walking toward the showers. Part of him was upset that Ziva would suggest anything of the sort about Tony. While the other half, the more prominent half, couldn't help but admit that she was right.
Well there we go. A) I don't speak Arabic, so no translations. B) If you are confused, don't worry, this is just the prologue. It'll get less confusing as things go along. And I am quite sorry for any mistakes that are in here. Please don't flame. That would be nice.