Chapter Twenty Seven
“Huh,” said Tony DiNozzo thoughtfully. “For some reason Gibbs isn’t answering.”
“Probably busy,” McGee said absently, studying the last section of wiring carefully.
~ + ~
Gibbs dropped to the ground immediately, digging frantically through his jacket for his cellphone. It was just as well he did so, as what he could only assume was Buffy Summers flew around the corner at high speed just a couple of seconds later. Still rolling across the floor, he felt her almost trip over his prone body and fall directly into Elizabeth Summers.
His hand had found the cell by now, and he tossed it as far from him as possible, trying to hide any traces of him in the darkness. Summers and Summers were certainly going at it behind him now, which meant he could concentrate for a moment on the third woman.
“Watch out for Rosenberg!” he heard Ziva shout, “She has some kind of taser!” Mentally, Gibbs filed the name away as he rolled forward towards Ziva’s words. Keep speaking, David, keep speaking...
Ziva went a step better.
Gibbs could almost feel the impact as Ziva shoulder-charged into the other woman. From the recoil he could feel, he was close to them. Very close. “Coming in on your right,” he snapped out, conscious that he had to take the risk of letting them know what was about to occur. You did not surprise a Mossad trained operative in pitch darkness if you could help it.
“Oof!” he heard from behind him as the all-Summers fight carried on. And a couple of thuds.
“I have her legs, Gibbs!” Ziva called out, slightly to the right of him and lower down. Gibbs adjusted his aim and went for the rest of his target.
Almost unnoticed, alone in the dark, his cell stopped ringing.
~ + ~
Ducky heard a series of punches landing on one of the combatants in his morgue, and winced as he envisioned the force behind them.
“Dude, I already told you,” Lehane’s amused tones filled the air, “You brought fists to a knife fight.” That was followed by a series of swishing noises, which Ducky’s trained mind had no trouble in assessing them as someone swinging his precious scalpels through the air.
Somebody jumped backwards and into one of his tables, judging from the next series of sounds, with the other (Lehane?) quickly following up. “Stupid high tech lab,” he heard Lehane grumbling, “With all its metal fittings. How’s a girl supposed to finish you off, huh?”
There was another snarl from whatever else was in the lab, but it was weaker than before, and thankfully, further away from him now. Ducky started calculating his route towards the exit.
“Ooohhh, baby... come to Mama,” he heard Lehane say happily, and his head spun round instantly at the clank of bottles. That had to be his supply cabinet that she was raiding. Some of the compounds in there would be dangerous even to someone as well trained as Jimmy.
“Oh, dear,” he found himself saying.
“Hey, hey, tweedie, stop with all the doom and gloom will ya,” Lehane said, from all the way across the lab. Ducky blinked. That could not be a coincidence, yet her hearing would have to be incredible.
“The acids are behind the closed section inside,” he said quietly over the sound of more fighting as the combat broke out again, “I would recommend staying away from those somewhat.” Testing just how good her hearing was.
“Not that stupid here, dude,” he heard Lehane reply, “I can read the labels for myself you know.”
eyesight then. Interesting....
“Aha! Alcohol! Oh, I’ve missed you,” Lehane’s comment sank into his thoughts, and Ducky’s brain raced suddenly. Surely she wasn’t going to...
There was a splashing noise, and then another, and then a third and final one. Lehane’s voice floated across the lab, “One nice thing about all this metal around, shouldn’t be too hard to strike a spark...”
Ducky’s eyes widened in the dark. A little light source flitted across the extremes of his vision as Lehane scraped her scalpel across the counter top. One spark, two sparks... He flung up an arm across his face, shielding his eyes from the sudden conflagration that flared up.
He waited two seconds, allowing the initial flare to pass by, then risked popping his head head to stare at the other end of the morgue. Lehane stood there, posed, a scalpel in each hand, watching the flames consume a body on the table there. She stood tall, straight backed, every inch of her proud and confident, illuminated in the flickering light from the burning body.
“A veritable Artemis,” he breathed.
She could hear him, he knew she could, but she didn’t take her eyes off her prey for a moment. Ducky was transfixed, staring at her, entranced.
The flames on the corpse flickered, dying. They got smaller and smaller, the light growing ever dimmer around them, until finally the last light died, and they were plunged into darkness once more.
Finally, Lehane spoke. “And what should I do with you, Doc?”
~ + ~
Rosenberg struggled underneath him, but he still had her pinned. Pulling his handcuffs out of his pockets, Gibbs looked towards where he assumed Ziva to be. “Try and help Summers if you can,” he said quietly.
“Very well,” Ziva said in the darkness, and disappeared from his senses. He could hear Rosenberg underneath him anxiously mumbling under her breath, and a small smile crossed his face in the darkness for a moment. See how her goddess helped her now. Taking Rosenberg’s wrists in his hands, he was about to slap on the handcuffs when what felt like a charge of electricity hit him, bucking him off the woman.
How!?!? How!? Was the thought that filled his mind, as he desperately tried to get back up again. He’d had both of her wrists in his grasp, so she couldn’t have triggered anything that way.... and where was the light show that he would have expected from a taser even in this darkness?
“I’m sorry! Sorry sorry sorry!” he heard Rosenberg babble as she scooted away across the floor. “I’m just not really a fan of the whole handcuff thing even if Ken was, but I’m not and never will be really, and oh goddess I really should stop talking right
Gibbs shook his head and refocused. Hopefully Ziva could do something from out of this darkness with Summers, otherwise this was going to be yet another mess-up.
~ + ~
“Hmmm. Maybe I should call Ziva?”
“Shut up, Tony.”
~ + ~
The lights in the corridor flickered for a moment, sending a strobe effect rippling down the hall, illuminating everybody in a frozen tableau for a fraction of a second. Ziva was creeping down the side of the corridor, Rosenberg was busy scrambling away from him on her hands and knees, and one of the Summers had the other in a headlock.
Then all was darkness again.
Had to be McGee. Couldn’t be anyone else. Gibbs felt a surge of fierce pride within himself, and used the energy to push himself back upright. He withdrew his gun, and cocked it, still pointing safely at the floor.
And if he knew his McGee.... yes! The emergency light flickered once, twice, then burst on and stayed on. He had his gun pointing directly at the two struggling Summers before the second flicker had started.
“Ziva, take Rosenberg!” he snapped out. “You two, stop. First one to do anything funny gets shot.”
Summers looked at Summers, before both looked at his gun looming at them. “But I’m the real Elizabeth Summers!” they both said simultaneously.
~ + ~