Chapter Text
Novena: The First Hour
Round Robin
Authors: a very short beginning by neichan
God, come to my assistance.
Lord, make haste to help me.
03:59 a.m.
Washington, D.C.
Nine hours before deployment.
Sister Agnes was the first up. It was the time of day when God spoke most clearly to her, in the serene quiet of the early morning. Before the hustle and bustle, before the voices of her sisters, before the teeming mass of the needy filed in to the Mission to fill their hungry bellies. And for a moment to listen to Father Greg read the the daily sermon to them, a vain attempt to fill their empty hearts.
Not many listened. They were weary, beaten down. Some beyond hearing any message, even one of hope. Of love. She did not judge them for it. God had come to her early, when she was just a child. She had never wanted more than to do his work, had never doubted her path. Her hand was his hand while she tended these desperate men, women and children. Her ear was his ear when she listened to their woe. Her heart was his heart when she prayed for and at times with each one of them.
She would not change a single thing about her life. It was, she believed, as God wanted it to be.
She moved across the cool tiles of the floor, her sandals nearly silent. She was birdlike small but quick for all of her 80 years, her vision not sharp as it had been when she was a girl growing up in
Madrid. But only last year there had been that surgery, and she could see better now than she had in twenty years.
The knock was earlier than expected. There was no food ready to set out in the dining hall. But she could find cereal, some milk for a hungry one who could not wait. She reached the heavy wood door and opened it.
The man was perhaps thirty, dressed in a scruffy olive drab coat that reminded her of the ones young men used to wear when they were in the service. It bore the evidence of hundreds of washings, faded, the stenciled name unreadable but for the first letter which she was sure was a B. He was taller than she, but mostly everyone was now.
His face could have been called good-looking. Unlined, a faint smile on his lips. Involuntarily she smiled back. It was that kind of smile. Sweet. Kind.
Until she looked up into his eyes.
He spoke while she was trying to decipher the look that was hiding in the darkness of his gaze.
"I am here for Miss Abby Scuito."
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Anthony Michael Dinozzo juggled the backpack, jacket, coffee and his keys. It was too warm to wear the jacket, the haze of heat and humidity had barely been relieved by the night hours. It stuck his shirt to his skin within minutes of his leaving his condo. He shouldn't have bothered with a shower. He already needed another one.
He'd not gotten as much sleep as he would have liked, there was a lot to think about. But the lack of sleep had been compensated for by the evening he'd spent talking to the person who was his sun, moon and stars all rolled into one. It had all been talking, so far, when he thought of even hoping for more his hands shook, his skin pricked with perspiration, and his mouth went dry. Tonight that was going to change.
Being in love was not an emotional state that he was familiar with. Jeanne was as close as he'd come. It had taken months of therapy for him to realize that while he loved her in a way, it had been as much about guilt as love. Actually more about guilt. Tony had hurt her. He had wanted to love her, he wanted it so much, but he'd not been able to take that last step. There were people and things that mattered more. It was the first step to admitting what he truly wanted.
Tossing the summer-weight jacket into the passenger seat he lowered the heavy pack to the floorboard. He carefully inserted the grande, low fat , half caf, cinnamon latte into the cup holder. Then he slid into the driver's seat, fastening the safety belt with a decisive click. He started the engine and revved it once then put the car into gear.
He drove quickly, the streets unclogged at this rarefied time of the morning. He arrived at the NCIS yard, displayed his ID when asked, then pulled into the lot to park. He turned the key to off and was about to withdraw it and gather his things when he froze in place.
He nearly jumped out of his skin at the beep. He'd never heard it before. Nor the voice.
"Good Morning, Agent DiNozzo. Do no get out of your seat. Do not unfasten your belt. If you do it will be the last action you ever take. Under your seat connected to a pressure pad is an explosive
device. It can be detonated in more than one way."
Tony froze in his seat. His heart rate picked up, but he brought it down with a few deep breaths. He started wondering how he was going to get out of this situation. Because he refused to die. Not now. Not when he was on the verge of finding the one person who he wanted to be with for the rest of his life.
"Please listen carefully." The voice from his CD player said. And he did.
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Special Agent Jethro Gibbs was about to enter the NCIS building when he saw Dinozzo sitting in his car. Oddly, Tony was sitting absolutely still, not moving. It was completely unlike him, the immobility, it stopped Gibbs in his tracks and made him turn back towards the parking lot.
Tony didn't look up as he approached. He didn't seem to notice Gibbs until Jethro tapped on the window. Then he started, his eyes flying up to meet his boss'. The pupils were dilated, huge and dark, sweat dewed his face. Gibbs saw his lips move, he read the word without being able to hear it.
"Boss." Soundless. There was definitely something wrong. Then the second word explained it all. "Bomb."
end part 1