Endgame - Chapter 3
Title: Endgame
Author: fulltobursting aka unilocular
Artist:
hinky_hippo
Summary: For Sergei Mishnev, Diane's death was just the beginning. His next objective is to destroy Gibbs' beloved team.
Rating: Strong Teen
Spoilers/Warnings: General spoilers up to 12x15: Cabin Fever. Canon DIvergence from 12x11. Copious violence, whump, bad language, and some mentions of torture.
3:18pm - Unknown Place -
"McGee? What should I do?" Ellie whispers.
The terror creeping into her voice is real and raw, just like that in his heart. Even though Tim doesn't look at her, he feels her questioning stare piercing through him. It's the same one usually reserved for Gibbs when she doesn't know whether a seemingly innocuous piece of evidence is important. Or Tony when she has no idea where to start at a crime scene.
And now, she's asking me whether we'll survive. Like I have a fucking clue.
But there's no way he'll tell her that. Not when there's a chance they might get out of here alive.
Instead, his bound hands use a piece of scrap metal as a makeshift screwdriver against the hinge on the door to their prison. All he has to do is loosen the screws so they can remove door and escape. It always looks so easy in the movies, but real life? Well, the work is tedious at best, since Mishnev's goons stole his and Tony's knives, but Tim still managed to free one screw so far.
Blood drips from the spots on his fingertips where the ragged metal tore through his flesh earlier. It drips all over the place, his brand new shirt, his pants, the grimy floor. He'll probably get tetanus from this, but it doesn't matter. None of it does.
He just needs to keep going until they're free. Or dead.
Then he can rest. Then he can worry about whether his keyboard will ever feel the same again.
A pair of hands grazes on his shoulders. "McGee?"
Ellie's touch might as well be a gunshot.
Flinching, he jerks away from her. When he opens his eyes again, he's staring at a strange patch of dirt on the wall. He wonders whether it's supposed to look like the Madonna or if it's just a trick played by a desperate mind searching for salvation in the dirtiest of places, trying to find meaning in what might be their last moments. He slams his hands against it, uses his blood to chase the last bits of hope away.
They're on their own.
"McGee? What should - "
"How's Tony?" he interrupts.
She hisses through her teeth. "Not good, McGee. I can't get him to wake up."
Tim doesn't know what to say, so he just nods.
His senior agent's worsening condition is his fault. If he hadn't let that thug sneak up on him at Mishnev's safe house, they wouldn't be here. If he'd fought back on the way out like Tony did, maybe his superior wouldn't be a bleeding mess.
But put a gun to Tim's head and he'll do whatever you want.
Like being ushered to a waiting van, allowing the goons to zip-tie his hands together and letting Tony get beat to a pulp while he tried to help them escape.
"We need to get him out of here," Ellie says, the tinges of hysteria returning.
He tries to take a calming breath, but it only fuels his fire. "What do you think I'm trying to do, Bishop?"
She recoils, her boots grinding over the loose stones and grime. Then she slinks away to join Tony.
Sighing, Tim turns back to those damned screws. Anything to avoid turning around and seeing them again. Once was more than enough to burn that image into his brain. Ellie kneeled with Tony's head resting on her thighs as she tried her best to wake him. He didn't look right with the gash on his forehead. The blood acted like a gut-wrenching mousse, spiking his hair at weird angles as it dried.
Tim's fingers begin to tremble as the third screw comes free. It falls to the ground with a satisfying plink, bringing the hint of a smile to his lips. One hinge down, two to go.
He's ready to move onto the next when a quiet sound in the hallway makes his heart skip a beat. He presses his ear against the freezing metal, but he doesn't hear anything. Just as Tim breathes a sigh of relief, a thud like a door closing comes again.
Then there's the clamor of three distinct footsteps.
Oh shit.
His heart kicks into overdrive, threatening to beat out of his chest. He throws himself to his feet, backpedaling when Ellie appears by his side.
Her wide eyes look up. "McGee? What's - "
"Someone's coming."
Her breath comes out in a little gasp, but Tim barely catches it over that freaking whoosh in his ears. She wraps her hands around his forearm, digs her nails in deep enough to cut through all layers of his clothing.
It only makes his heart beat harder, and he begs it to stop. Just stop.
"What do we do?" Ellie whispers.
He's about to admit he doesn't know when he hazards a glance at Tony. Still unconscious, the senior agent looks worse than Tim remembered. His immaculate suit is covered in dirt, filth, and what might be motor oil. His neck twists at an unnatural angle.
But the worst part, by far, is Tony's face. His cheeks are a mash of purple and red with no space left for his normal coloring. His left eye is completely black, so swollen it resembles something from their crime scene photos. The blood caked around his upper lip and chin extends all the way up to his nose. The rasping breaths through his mouth make his whole body shake.
Tim shudders.
That's going to hurt when Tony wakes up. If -
"McGee?"
"We fight, Bishop." He sucks in a deep breath, still searching for that nonexistent calm. "Just wait for my signal."
Surprisingly, she gives no protest, but nods and releases his arm. After she hustles to the corner to retrieve the screws off the ground, she hands him one. While they're not great weapons, it's better to take a stand with something rather than nothing. Even if it is a two inch long screw and a rusty piece of metal.
When the door unlocks, Tim's heart hammers in his chest.
Please just stop, he begs it again.
Seconds later, three of Mishnev's henchmen flood into the room with their guns raised. In all the excitement earlier, he never even saw their faces. One good-looking, one bald, one ugly.
Tim swears that Tony says, "This reminds me of a movie."
"Back up," Baldy orders, "both of you."
At the sight of the weapon in his face, Tim's stance falters. But Ellie leans into his shoulder, close enough to remind him of her presence, so he holds his ground, shakes his head.
"You move now," Baldy snaps again.
When they don't, the three men take a step closer. Tim sets his jaw, readying himself for a fight.
Now or never.
All it takes is a single nod from him to launch them into a hopeless, Hail Mary escape attempt. Ellie kicks Handsome in his family jewels, dropping him to the ground.
As the other two approach Tim, he drives his shoulder into Ugly's gut. But the man doesn't even flinch. When the gun inches towards his head, Tim grabs it. He shoves the weapon towards the ceiling. Three shots ring out. As Ugly fights to lower his weapon, Tim grinds his heel into the other man's foot. Ugly squeals, recoiling.
Then suddenly, he stops moving.
Tim senses the movement behind him a second too late. Before he has a chance to turn around, someone grabs him. The hold pins Tim's arms at his side and forces the air from his lungs. He struggles to take a breath, but the grip is just too tight. Tim gasps, chokes on his own spit.
Black spots swarm his vision. His motions slow.
This must be what dying feels like.
He gags. "Bishop."
Just when he's about to pass out, the man holding him lets out a feral shriek. The arms around Tim's chest release and he gulps down as much oxygen as his lungs can handle. He stumbles in a tight circle, unable to figure out why Baldy should be screaming like his heart's being ripped out.
That's when Tim sees Ellie. On Baldy's back.
Her bound hands are wrapped around his neck as he fights to throw her off. It takes a moment for Tim to see that her fingers are smashed into Baldy's eyes like she might rip them out of his head.
Bile bites the back of Tim's throat. When he launches himself at Ugly, one solid hook to his jaw ends the fight. Tim drops to the ground, stunned. He tries to push himself up, but he doesn't get there in time.
Baldy slams his back - and Ellie - against the wall.
Her breath comes out in a huge gasp and her grip loosens. There are one, two, three more slams and Tim feels every single one. When she goes slack, Baldy yanks her off his back. Then he drops her to the ground as though she weighs nothing at all.
She gives a little moan before she stops moving.
Oh G-d, not her too.
Tim scrambles to his unsteady feet, just in time for two guns to point in his direction. Adrenaline courses through his veins, making his muscles beg for him to act. But when the world tilts sideways, he stumbles towards Bishop. He only makes a single step before he falls to his knees.
Ugly laughs sadistically as he tucks his gun into his jeans. "So which one do we bring?"
"The woman," Baldy says, hands pressed against his face.
Tim's heart wedges itself in his throat as they move towards Ellie. His team can't be separated, not under his watch. If he loses either Tony or Ellie, he'll never see his teammate again.
Tim climbs to his feet, as though that's an act of survival itself. "You're not taking them anywhere."
His bravery earns him a sadistic chuckle from Handsome and Ugly. But Baldy pulls the hands from his face for a better view, revealing eyes that are turning black and rapidly swelling.
When the man heads towards Ellie, Tim sprints towards him. He shoves Baldy into the nearest wall. In the blink of an eye, their positions are reversed. Tim's back is flat against the rough cinderblocks and an uncompromising arm presses against his throat. His breath comes in shallow gasps.
When Baldy brings his gun to rest on Tim's neck, his entire body goes rigid in preparation for a bullet. He'd rather take one than let these men separate his team.
"Leave the woman," Baldy orders.
They hold each other's gaze. The goon's thick lips part to reveal blunted, rotten nubs of what used to be teeth. If he didn't know any better, Tim might think the man's attempting to smile.
They're going to split us up. Maybe they'll take me since I'm the only one awake.
That way I could buy Tony and Bishop time until Gibbs finds us.
Cold sweat cascades down his back as he notices Handsome and Ugly sliding towards Tony. He throws his weight against his captor.
"Tony!" Tim yells, thrashing harder. "Tony!"
Baldy slams his weapon against Tim's face, snapping his head sideways. Blackness swirls around Tim as he lands on the floor in a cloud of dust. It tickles his nose, begging him to chase it away, but he doesn't have the energy. He just lies there, unable to move, as Ugly and Handsome scoop up Tony.
Tim's eyes close, but they don't open again. Just like the rest of him, they don't work anymore. None of his body responds to his orders to get up and fight again.
But it doesn't matter anyway.
Tim's brain is too busy spiriting him away to that weekend last year when Tony showed up unannounced with Chinese food and all five Die Hard movies. While Washington was tucked in under a blanket of snow, they learned how John McClane took down Russian dirtbags over and over again. He just wants to hear Tony say, "Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker," one more time.
But I won't because I'm never going to see Tony again.
CHAPTER FOUR
Author: fulltobursting aka unilocular
Artist:
hinky_hippo
Summary: For Sergei Mishnev, Diane's death was just the beginning. His next objective is to destroy Gibbs' beloved team.
Rating: Strong Teen
Spoilers/Warnings: General spoilers up to 12x15: Cabin Fever. Canon DIvergence from 12x11. Copious violence, whump, bad language, and some mentions of torture.
3:18pm - Unknown Place -
"McGee? What should I do?" Ellie whispers.
The terror creeping into her voice is real and raw, just like that in his heart. Even though Tim doesn't look at her, he feels her questioning stare piercing through him. It's the same one usually reserved for Gibbs when she doesn't know whether a seemingly innocuous piece of evidence is important. Or Tony when she has no idea where to start at a crime scene.
And now, she's asking me whether we'll survive. Like I have a fucking clue.
But there's no way he'll tell her that. Not when there's a chance they might get out of here alive.
Instead, his bound hands use a piece of scrap metal as a makeshift screwdriver against the hinge on the door to their prison. All he has to do is loosen the screws so they can remove door and escape. It always looks so easy in the movies, but real life? Well, the work is tedious at best, since Mishnev's goons stole his and Tony's knives, but Tim still managed to free one screw so far.
Blood drips from the spots on his fingertips where the ragged metal tore through his flesh earlier. It drips all over the place, his brand new shirt, his pants, the grimy floor. He'll probably get tetanus from this, but it doesn't matter. None of it does.
He just needs to keep going until they're free. Or dead.
Then he can rest. Then he can worry about whether his keyboard will ever feel the same again.
A pair of hands grazes on his shoulders. "McGee?"
Ellie's touch might as well be a gunshot.
Flinching, he jerks away from her. When he opens his eyes again, he's staring at a strange patch of dirt on the wall. He wonders whether it's supposed to look like the Madonna or if it's just a trick played by a desperate mind searching for salvation in the dirtiest of places, trying to find meaning in what might be their last moments. He slams his hands against it, uses his blood to chase the last bits of hope away.
They're on their own.
"McGee? What should - "
"How's Tony?" he interrupts.
She hisses through her teeth. "Not good, McGee. I can't get him to wake up."
Tim doesn't know what to say, so he just nods.
His senior agent's worsening condition is his fault. If he hadn't let that thug sneak up on him at Mishnev's safe house, they wouldn't be here. If he'd fought back on the way out like Tony did, maybe his superior wouldn't be a bleeding mess.
But put a gun to Tim's head and he'll do whatever you want.
Like being ushered to a waiting van, allowing the goons to zip-tie his hands together and letting Tony get beat to a pulp while he tried to help them escape.
"We need to get him out of here," Ellie says, the tinges of hysteria returning.
He tries to take a calming breath, but it only fuels his fire. "What do you think I'm trying to do, Bishop?"
She recoils, her boots grinding over the loose stones and grime. Then she slinks away to join Tony.
Sighing, Tim turns back to those damned screws. Anything to avoid turning around and seeing them again. Once was more than enough to burn that image into his brain. Ellie kneeled with Tony's head resting on her thighs as she tried her best to wake him. He didn't look right with the gash on his forehead. The blood acted like a gut-wrenching mousse, spiking his hair at weird angles as it dried.
Tim's fingers begin to tremble as the third screw comes free. It falls to the ground with a satisfying plink, bringing the hint of a smile to his lips. One hinge down, two to go.
He's ready to move onto the next when a quiet sound in the hallway makes his heart skip a beat. He presses his ear against the freezing metal, but he doesn't hear anything. Just as Tim breathes a sigh of relief, a thud like a door closing comes again.
Then there's the clamor of three distinct footsteps.
Oh shit.
His heart kicks into overdrive, threatening to beat out of his chest. He throws himself to his feet, backpedaling when Ellie appears by his side.
Her wide eyes look up. "McGee? What's - "
"Someone's coming."
Her breath comes out in a little gasp, but Tim barely catches it over that freaking whoosh in his ears. She wraps her hands around his forearm, digs her nails in deep enough to cut through all layers of his clothing.
It only makes his heart beat harder, and he begs it to stop. Just stop.
"What do we do?" Ellie whispers.
He's about to admit he doesn't know when he hazards a glance at Tony. Still unconscious, the senior agent looks worse than Tim remembered. His immaculate suit is covered in dirt, filth, and what might be motor oil. His neck twists at an unnatural angle.
But the worst part, by far, is Tony's face. His cheeks are a mash of purple and red with no space left for his normal coloring. His left eye is completely black, so swollen it resembles something from their crime scene photos. The blood caked around his upper lip and chin extends all the way up to his nose. The rasping breaths through his mouth make his whole body shake.
Tim shudders.
That's going to hurt when Tony wakes up. If -
"McGee?"
"We fight, Bishop." He sucks in a deep breath, still searching for that nonexistent calm. "Just wait for my signal."
Surprisingly, she gives no protest, but nods and releases his arm. After she hustles to the corner to retrieve the screws off the ground, she hands him one. While they're not great weapons, it's better to take a stand with something rather than nothing. Even if it is a two inch long screw and a rusty piece of metal.
When the door unlocks, Tim's heart hammers in his chest.
Please just stop, he begs it again.
Seconds later, three of Mishnev's henchmen flood into the room with their guns raised. In all the excitement earlier, he never even saw their faces. One good-looking, one bald, one ugly.
Tim swears that Tony says, "This reminds me of a movie."
"Back up," Baldy orders, "both of you."
At the sight of the weapon in his face, Tim's stance falters. But Ellie leans into his shoulder, close enough to remind him of her presence, so he holds his ground, shakes his head.
"You move now," Baldy snaps again.
When they don't, the three men take a step closer. Tim sets his jaw, readying himself for a fight.
Now or never.
All it takes is a single nod from him to launch them into a hopeless, Hail Mary escape attempt. Ellie kicks Handsome in his family jewels, dropping him to the ground.
As the other two approach Tim, he drives his shoulder into Ugly's gut. But the man doesn't even flinch. When the gun inches towards his head, Tim grabs it. He shoves the weapon towards the ceiling. Three shots ring out. As Ugly fights to lower his weapon, Tim grinds his heel into the other man's foot. Ugly squeals, recoiling.
Then suddenly, he stops moving.
Tim senses the movement behind him a second too late. Before he has a chance to turn around, someone grabs him. The hold pins Tim's arms at his side and forces the air from his lungs. He struggles to take a breath, but the grip is just too tight. Tim gasps, chokes on his own spit.
Black spots swarm his vision. His motions slow.
This must be what dying feels like.
He gags. "Bishop."
Just when he's about to pass out, the man holding him lets out a feral shriek. The arms around Tim's chest release and he gulps down as much oxygen as his lungs can handle. He stumbles in a tight circle, unable to figure out why Baldy should be screaming like his heart's being ripped out.
That's when Tim sees Ellie. On Baldy's back.
Her bound hands are wrapped around his neck as he fights to throw her off. It takes a moment for Tim to see that her fingers are smashed into Baldy's eyes like she might rip them out of his head.
Bile bites the back of Tim's throat. When he launches himself at Ugly, one solid hook to his jaw ends the fight. Tim drops to the ground, stunned. He tries to push himself up, but he doesn't get there in time.
Baldy slams his back - and Ellie - against the wall.
Her breath comes out in a huge gasp and her grip loosens. There are one, two, three more slams and Tim feels every single one. When she goes slack, Baldy yanks her off his back. Then he drops her to the ground as though she weighs nothing at all.
She gives a little moan before she stops moving.
Oh G-d, not her too.
Tim scrambles to his unsteady feet, just in time for two guns to point in his direction. Adrenaline courses through his veins, making his muscles beg for him to act. But when the world tilts sideways, he stumbles towards Bishop. He only makes a single step before he falls to his knees.
Ugly laughs sadistically as he tucks his gun into his jeans. "So which one do we bring?"
"The woman," Baldy says, hands pressed against his face.
Tim's heart wedges itself in his throat as they move towards Ellie. His team can't be separated, not under his watch. If he loses either Tony or Ellie, he'll never see his teammate again.
Tim climbs to his feet, as though that's an act of survival itself. "You're not taking them anywhere."
His bravery earns him a sadistic chuckle from Handsome and Ugly. But Baldy pulls the hands from his face for a better view, revealing eyes that are turning black and rapidly swelling.
When the man heads towards Ellie, Tim sprints towards him. He shoves Baldy into the nearest wall. In the blink of an eye, their positions are reversed. Tim's back is flat against the rough cinderblocks and an uncompromising arm presses against his throat. His breath comes in shallow gasps.
When Baldy brings his gun to rest on Tim's neck, his entire body goes rigid in preparation for a bullet. He'd rather take one than let these men separate his team.
"Leave the woman," Baldy orders.
They hold each other's gaze. The goon's thick lips part to reveal blunted, rotten nubs of what used to be teeth. If he didn't know any better, Tim might think the man's attempting to smile.
They're going to split us up. Maybe they'll take me since I'm the only one awake.
That way I could buy Tony and Bishop time until Gibbs finds us.
Cold sweat cascades down his back as he notices Handsome and Ugly sliding towards Tony. He throws his weight against his captor.
"Tony!" Tim yells, thrashing harder. "Tony!"
Baldy slams his weapon against Tim's face, snapping his head sideways. Blackness swirls around Tim as he lands on the floor in a cloud of dust. It tickles his nose, begging him to chase it away, but he doesn't have the energy. He just lies there, unable to move, as Ugly and Handsome scoop up Tony.
Tim's eyes close, but they don't open again. Just like the rest of him, they don't work anymore. None of his body responds to his orders to get up and fight again.
But it doesn't matter anyway.
Tim's brain is too busy spiriting him away to that weekend last year when Tony showed up unannounced with Chinese food and all five Die Hard movies. While Washington was tucked in under a blanket of snow, they learned how John McClane took down Russian dirtbags over and over again. He just wants to hear Tony say, "Yippee-ki-yay, motherfucker," one more time.
But I won't because I'm never going to see Tony again.
CHAPTER FOUR