Chapter Nineteen: Where Am I, Again?

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Chapter Summary: We find out what’s happened to Will. Did Jason kill him, or is there another explanation?

Chapter Nineteen: Where Am I, Again?

Will laid down panting in the safe house he’d broken into. He was glad that he was fortunate enough to have been attacked somewhere he knew where the CIA had a hideout. He wasn’t really sure how happy his old bosses would be, but he’d make sure Tony let Trent know. He wasn’t going to apologize for using the resources he had to stay alive. The house was… well not even really a house. It was more like a shack.

It had running water, and it had electricity. It was in the middle of nowhere though, and the electricity required the generator be turned on. Will was pretty sure that he didn’t have the strength to start it though. Fortunately, there were enough candles and oil lamps around that he didn’t need to at that moment. The morning would be soon enough.

After getting them all lit, he’d sat down, and stitched himself up. He was pretty sure he had a mild concussion. That jackass Gideon had hit him over the head pretty hard. Fortunately, he’d been able to move in time so that he landed more of a glancing blow than a direct shot.

Unfortunately, the fucker had broken his goddamned phone. Robert was going to have a cow. Luckily it was his work phone and had no real information on it. To be safe, he’d pulled both the memory card and the SIM Card, before throwing the damaged device in a pond he’d crossed.

Jason Gideon.

Jesus, Robert wasn’t the only one who was going to have a cow.

Will was trying to stay awake. He needed to contact Robert or Tony. Let them know he was safe, and who their unsub was. Unfortunately, he couldn’t fight his body, and sleep came quickly.

The next morning when he woke up, his arm was throbbing, his head was fuzzy, and he wasn’t sure where he was. Something was poking at his brain telling him that he had something important to do.

Something vital.

Standing he wobbled until he grabbed the bedpost to steady himself. Once he was confident that he could walk without falling over, he moved away from the bed and started exploring the building. It wasn’t very big. Just a shack really. There were no light switches, but the few rooms there were all had burnt out candles. He stood in what would act as the living room, scratching his head, and winced in pain as he hit a lump on the side of his head.

Definitely a concussion of some sort. His mouth felt like the Sahara had relocated there. So, probably dehydrated. Not good. Both were most likely contributing to his confusion. Wandering into the kitchen area, Will opened the refrigerator, seeing it was filled with odd non-food things like bags of blood combined with bottles of water and other drinks.

Definitely strange.

Definitely CIA.

Taking out a couple bottles of water, he wandered back to the living room, and half collapsed onto the couch as he tried to jump start his memory. CIA…. Shack… Safe House. He was in one of the off the books CIA safe houses that were scattered around the world. The bottle of water label was written in English though. He couldn’t quite make out the made in location, but something in his head whispered to him that he was in the US.

But why was he in a CIA safe house?

For some reason that felt more wrong than it should. He worked for the CIA, right? Draining one bottle, he opened the other and wished he’d brought one of the sports drinks too, as he continued to work the problem. No, he didn’t work for the CIA. Tony DiNozzo.

He was working for Trent Kort’s cousin at…. The FBI.

“Fuck.”

Finally, everything came back together. Looking at his hand, he frowned seeing a sports drink in one, and a granola bar in the other. He was losing time. “Shit, s’more than a mild concussion.”

“Why’m I in a CIA safe house, if I work for Tony?”

Running his hands through his hair again, he frowned realizing it was a lot shorter than he normally wore it. Looking at his clothing, he noticed he was wearing a Navy working uniform. He wasn’t in the Navy though. Robert had been in the Marines…

“Fuck, Robert.”

Standing, Will dug his hands through his various uniform pockets, but only came up with a memory card, and a SIM card. “Shit missed m’check-in.”

Looking around the living room, he searched knowing what he needed was there somewhere… and finally found it. Heading over to the wall holding a floor to ceiling bookshelf, Will grabbed the side and pulled swinging the door open to reveal the hidden cache of weapons, and various other things an operative might need including secure cell phones.

Grabbing one, he popped his SIM card in, and then immediately came up blank on which of the numbers were the real ones. He knew that most of them would be either fake or come up to other things like pizza places, Chinese carryout, etc.

He couldn’t remember which one took him to Tony, or whoever was his contact at the FBI. Only one name in the contact list looked familiar. Snorting at his lover’s geekiness Will hit the entry for Stark Enterprises.

“Jesus, where are you? You missed your fucking check in.”

“R’bert?”

Wandering out of the room, Will moved back to the couch and fell down into it frowning again at the sports drink feeling somewhat offended by its presence.

“D’I lose you?” Will asked and looked at his phone, only to see the call was still going.

“Sorry, you’re hurt. Concussion it sounds like. Even mind ones make you sound like you’ve been on a three-week bender. Anything else?”

“M’arm hurts,” Will pouted and put his hand over the spot that was paining him.

“Bandages.”

“OK, do you know where you are? I am almost to Charleston. I will come get you. What happened? Do you remember? Or is your head doing that fucked up memory thing? Did you run into the perp?”

Just like that, Will’s memory slipped back into place. “FUCK!”

“That doesn’t sound positive. Do you know where you are? I’m driving, I can’t trace your phone right now. Next time I am not giving into your stupid 100-mile buffer zone bullshit.”

“Stop.” Will ordered, but his partner just talked over it.

“I’m serious, Will, 100 miles is too far away for your backup! We are having this discussion the second I get there. You…”

“Robert! Do not come here!” Will insisted, and groaned as he accidentally ran over the bump on his head with his hand.

“Will, there is no way….”

“It’s Jason fucking Gideon, Robert.”

There was only silence to meet his statement. Then he finally heard, “I’m pulling over.”

After several long minutes filled with his husband swearing, and lots of blown horns, he finally heard, “say that again.”

“The unsub is Jason Gideon the former profiler who founded the Behavioral Analysis Unit. He recognized me from when he vetted me for the CIA. I tried to talk myself out of it, but, Robert, he already knew I was working for the FBI. He knew my undercover identity. Someone in the FBI is helping him out. Robert, you have to turn around, and head to Tony. There’s no fucking way he knows this.”

“You’re hurt,” Robert protested weakly, and Will knew that was the concerned partner in him that was being overridden by the former military operative.

“I’m in the crash pad just outside of Charleston. I’ll be fine. Now that my brain is less fuzzy, I can defend myself if it comes to that. I can even go outside and start the generator. I think. I’ll probably just sleep for the most of today anyway. You need to get to Tony though. No phones! We don’t know who is helping him. So, we have to assume that his communications are compromised.”

“He’s been trying to reach me,” Robert admitted, “I haven’t replied because I wanted to find you first.”

“I might have gotten a little miffed that this happened the first time he assigned you to a case.”

“It’s not his fault, Robby,” Will said softly, and Robert could hear him moving around.

“There’s no way anyone could have expected the bad guy to be Jason. I can tell you this much though. He’s fuckin fruit loops, man. There’s no way there’s only two bodies. Tell Tony he said something about being the instrument of justice. I know I have two more check-ins…”

“One.” Robert interrupted, and Will stopped confused.

“What? No, Tony and I agreed on three days.”

“I am aware,” Robert explained softly cursing his lover’s brain. For some reason, concussions even mild ones that would barely affect others at all always seemed to hit him three times worse.

“You’ve missed two check-ins babe. This is Friday morning.”

“Shit,” Will swore softly as he moved to lay back down on the bed.

“Then you really need to get to Tony. Go to Tobias’ house. Don’t go to the office. You have my number. Trent should be able to tell Tony where the fuck I’m at. Shit… I’m sorry, babe.”

“It’s the price superheroes pay to keep the world safe, remember?”

“Except you aren’t Tony Stark, and I’m not Hawkeye. No cool gadgets or outfits.” Will pouted, his words slurring again, and Robert knew he was falling asleep.

“I’m better than Tony Stark. Expect a call in two hours. I love you. If you fall into a coma and die, I am kicking your ass.”

His lover’s snores were his only response. Ending the call, Robert rested his head on the steering wheel for a moment. He was safe. He wasn’t dead. He was hurt, but he’d recover. Now, he just had to get to Bruce Wayne. ‘Cause if Tony DiNozzo was going to be a superhero, it would totally fucking be Bruce Motherfuckin’ Wayne.

Author’s Note: I took some creative license with the concussion. Although, I am aware that not all concussions are the same, and symptoms can vary from one person to the next.

 

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2 thoughts on “Chapter Nineteen: Where Am I, Again?

  1. Pingback: Chapter Eighteen: Putting Birdlings in Precarious Positions | AngelicInsanity

  2. Pingback: Second Time Main Page | AngelicInsanity

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