Yes, I'm still evil.
Tony’s timing sucked. Tim had been just about to get out of the cables holding him when his cell went off.
“Is that... the Star Wars Imperial March?” one voice asked in disbelief.
McGee moaned internally. Maybe he shouldn’t have selected that theme for Tony’s calls. He tried to remain motionless, pretending to be still be knocked out, tied up and blindfolded.
“It’s coming from his pants. Faith?”
“Hey! I dunno where you got this impression I’m the expert on getting things outa men’s pants all of a sudden, but I resent that.”
“I was just asking for confirmation, but hey... if the cap fits...”
McGee felt hands on his legs and tried desperately not to show any reaction as they crept higher and higher up. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, B.”
The hands slid along his thighs, paused for a moment, slid back down and then up again. “You know, this guy really does work out.”
“Hold yer horses,” the amused voice said, finally reaching the top of his trousers. One hand delicately entered his pocket and clasped the ringing telephone. She made no effort to remove it.
Behind the blindfold, McGee’s eyes were wide. Two thoughts were running through his head over and over: a) What the hell was she doing? And b) Tony would never believe this.
“We all done here?” the suddenly serious voice asked, finally withdrawing with his cell.
“Yup, got all we need from the NCIS files. I’m just working out the quickest route to North Bishop Drive and then we can move out.”
“Cool!” came the now amused again tones of Faith, and McGee heard the sound of his cell being flicked open. Oh god, this was not going to be good...
“Lady Faith’s House of Pain and Pizza Delivery Service. How may I help you?”
~ + ~
Back at NCIS headquarters, Tony DiNozzo fell off his chair.
“What?” he managed to say, scrambling to his feet. Ziva’s head snapped around, detecting something in Tony’s voice.
“I’m sorry, but Timmy can’t come to the phone right now – he’s more than a little tied up. Hey, is that you DiNozzo?”
“Lehane?” Tony demanded. “You better not have hurt McGee in any way, or I’ll...”
“Relax, DiBozo. Haven’t laid a finger on him, apart from the initial punching of course.”
Tony frowned deeply, and hurried over to Ziva’s desk. Making urgent motions with his spare hand, he indicated that Ziva should do something with the tracking software they had. “What do you want?” he said curtly.
“Not much, world peace, leather trousers that are easier to get goo out of, the norm. You’re the one that called me, ‘member?”
Tony found himself gritting his teeth. “Actually, I called McGee. Mind putting him on so I know he’s okay?” He made hurry-up signs at Ziva, who only glared back momentarily at him, so at least she’d grasped the urgency of the situation.
“Given that I’m straddling him at the moment, that shouldn’t be a problem,” Faith’s voice almost purred down the line at him. Tony lost focus for a split second, imagining the brunette in those tight, tight leather trousers... ahem.
“Yo, McGee! I know you’ve been up, sorry – awake, for the last couple of minutes, so wanna say something for the peanut gallery?”
Tony watched Ziva working away on her computer and felt a vague source of pride. They might well need the geek for the specialist computer jobs, but least Tim had got the rest of them to the stage where they could run their own tracking search.
“Dear Penthouse,” the familiar sounding voice of McGee crackled through the cell speaker, “You’ll never believe what happened to me this afternoon...” Tony felt a deep surge of relief (and oddly enough, pride) fill him.
“Damn...” said Faith again, sounding somewhat impressed herself, “Got yourself some big balls, haven’t you?”
Tony choked at the mental image suddenly provided by his imagination, and from the sound on the other end of the call, so did McGee.
Ziva shot her hand up and got Tony’s attention by snapping her fingers twice. She made a beckoning motion, and he leaned over the desk to see.
“Well, anyhow, got to run. Nice catching up with ya, Tony.”
Tony smiled. “Oh, we’ll meet again, Lehane. Count on it.” He stared at the screen, flashing up with a very familiar address on it: McGee’s apartment.
The phone went dead in his hand.
“I’ll call Gibbs. Ziva, you drive.”
~ + ~
McGee heard the sound of his cell being tossed through the air, and winced as something broke.
“Oh crap. Sorry, dude,” came the embarrassed voice from above him. “Look, it’s nothing personal, but it’s Tuesday and somebody had to get kidnapped at some point. It’s tradition.”
McGee managed a weak smile. “Well, hey... tradition. What can you do?”
“Exactly! Man, it’s nice to work with someone who understands the little niceties of the situation.”
A voice from further away spoke in urgent tones, “Faith! We have to get going now!”
McGee found his cheek being patted gently. “You’ve been our best hostage ever. Which is why I’m really, really sorry about this...”
Timothy McGee’s eyes widened in shock once more. Oh god, now what? What was that ripping noise...?
And oh god, oh god, what were her hands doing now!?!?
~ + ~
The NCIS car driven by Ziva screeched to a stop outside McGee’s apartment, with at least one fresh scrape on the side of it. Tony and Ziva instantly got out, pulling their guns and exchanged a wordless nod.
Moving quickly to the entrance, Tony suddenly put a hand on Ziva’s arm and jerked his head back towards the street. Gibbs was pulling up, his car having been driven equally as manically as Ziva’s had been.
Ziva nodded once, and they waited for Gibbs to reach them.
“Any word?” the ex-marine snapped, his gun also out and pointed towards the ground.
“None,” Ziva said quietly, her eyes scanning the hallway ahead.
Gibbs nodded, his face an impassive mask though Tony could feel the rage boiling off him. “Ziva, take left. Tony, watch our six. Move.”
They crept quickly and smoothly down the hall, reaching the stairwell up. Gibbs made a motion with his hands, and Tony opened the door, stepping back quickly.
“Clear,” Ziva reported. Gibbs made another motion, and the three of them quickly moved up the two flights of stairs till they reached the level where McGee’s apartment was. Again, using Tony to open the door, they reached the corridor.
Near the end of the corridor, the door to McGee’s apartment was open. Tony caught Ziva’s eye, concern flashing briefly across both their faces. Gibbs gestured again, and they moved up.
Gibbs held up three fingers, and nodded silently to both Tony and Ziva. They nodded back, confirming their understanding.
They burst into the apartment, prepared for anything.
~ + ~
“McGee? Why are you duct-taped to the wall?”
“And where, precisely, are your trousers?”
~ + ~