"Two warriors squaring off in the ring. Mud glistening off their thongs."
Tony recalls the wrestling match he attended the night before. I, however, was much too busy with other matters of business.
"I finally invited the others over for dinner." I inform him. "McGee and Jimmy thoroughly enjoyed my lasagna."
His hand wraps around my wrist, halting any further movement. "Lasagna better not be another word for what I think it is."
"Someone's a little jealous." A giggle rumbles through my chest as Tony pouts.
"Blame me for wanting to keep my lasagna for myself." He continues through the rows of containers in the Navy shipyard.
"Other people have had my lasagna."
"And I better be the last one who gets to have it for life."
His arm wraps around my waist strictly, the jealousy practically dripping off his words.
"There's a reason we don't invite coworkers to dinner. They'll be expecting to come over every week."
"And why does that matter, Tony?" I cock a brow. "After all, it is my apartment and my choice."
"I want to move in with you, but —"
"Save it, Tony."
Before I can continue, a rough hand pulls me back. The two of us share a look at the unloaded crates in the dock. The two of us run in opposite directions, cornering the unlocked container.
"The customs seal's been broken." Tony declares as soon as I clear the inside.
However, a couple of uninvited guests show up to ruin the party. Seconds before they can shoot our heads off, Tony and I hide behind the stacked crates, firing back with our own weapons.
"Get inside!"
We cover each other as we enter through the door. Standing our guard inside, we wait for the men to leave. Once the shouting stops, however, the door swings close, and a latch creaks.
"Damn it, Tony. We're locked in here."
I spend the next five minutes attempting to kick down the door. But no matter how many times I try, it won't budge.
Tony's cellphone begins to beep. "I'm not getting any reception."
"No bars." I click my tongue against my teeth.
There are no open spaces or windows in the container, meaning there's no way out. Unless, of course, someone manages to find us in this shipyard.
My back presses against one of the walls, and I sink to the ground. "Think Gibbs will find us before we freeze to death?"
"It's Gibbs we're talking about." But Tony refuses to give a definite answer.
We open the few remaining crates inside, only to find copies of an East Indian Bollywood movie. No small arms to be found.
"This doesn't make any sense." He pushes over one of the opened crates.
I tug on the ends of my thin jacket. "Maybe they used one of the other twenty containers to smuggle the weapons."
"But this is the only container that wasn't sealed." His light flashes across the edge where the wall meets the ceiling. "The rest of them are closed."
"They couldn't have offloaded them already. . .could they?"
"Might explain how they got automatic weapons."
He walks to the opposite side of the container towards the back. "Evaline Giudice. . .does this space seem different to you?"
"Depends on your definition of different." I simply shrug.
"Does it seem. . ." Tony approaches me slowly, "smaller than the outside dimension? Because usually, containers are 40 feet long."
He walks to my end. "This one's only 34 feet on the inside."
I furrow my brows and come to stand on his right. My knuckles knock against the outer wall and then the one in front of me.
"Hollow. . .solid."
Tony kicks his foot through the wall, causing the wood to splinter on impact. A short doorway swings open, although it's too dark to see what's on the other side.
"Remind me to show you my appreciation when we get out of this box."
I step through the opening first, standing up in the tight space between boxes. My eyes widen at the Arabic words written on the boxes.
"Looks like we're dealing with explosives." A shaky breath falls off my lips.
"Great." Tony clambers in beside me. "Anything else you can translate?"
I look over at him. "It doesn't take a translator to know the only way this is going to end is in a painfully horrific death." The inside of my cheek is trapped between my teeth.
"I was afraid you were gonna say that."
We carefully open the top of one of the crates, only to find it filled to the top with American bills, counterfeit to be exact. With a sigh of relief, we return to the main part of the container.
Hugging my knees to my chest, my eyes shift to meet Tony's. "If I had to be stuck in a container with any person, I'm glad it's you."
"I can't think of another person I'd want to be with anywhere." His hand intertwines with my own, and his lips press against the top of my knuckles.
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
Knowing very well our "friends" may come back to reclaim the counterfeit money, Tony and I shift the heavy crates around to form a defensive perimeter. When we finish assembling the structure, we find ourselves sitting next to each other, huddling close for minimal warmth.
"Tell me about your family." Tony questions abruptly. "I've known you for two and a half years, yet I still know nothing about your parents."
I nudge his shoulder gently. "You're the one to talk. All I've heard about is your mother decorating your bedroom at the age of five." He lightly chuckles under his breath.
"What do you want to hear?"
There's a chance — small, but still existent — that we don't make it out of here alive. So why not reveal our deepest secrets to each other?
"Your life story, Ms Giudice."
"How vague, Mr. DiNozzo."
"Give me something, Ev. I'll take anything at this point."
Before I can give him an answer, I feel the container shift as if it was being picked up.
"Forklift."
I stand up on one of the crates by the holes in the wall, and Tony's hands on my ass keep me stabilized as I attempt to scan our surroundings.
"You must be. . ." The force of the crate moving knocks me back, right into Tony's arms. "You must be having fun."
He smirks in amusement. "Oh, you bet. Nothing beats being trapped in a metal container with possibly no food and water for days." And his mood quickly changes.
With no success from shouting through the openings, we leave a paper trail behind using the bills.
"The reception isn't any better. I've got nothing." His feet stumble as he regains his balance. "What we need is a better antenna. Any kind of wire would work. Really, any kind of—"
I toss a few more bills outside. "If you're asking me for a piece of wire, I can't just pull it out of thin air, alright?"
"Are you wearing your black bra today?" He squints his eyes in thought.
". . .maybe."
How on earth does he know what bra I'm wearing on what day?
"That has underwire. We can just attach it to the end of the antenna and slip it out of the slot."
"I swear to God, Tony. . ."
"I promise you." His hands press against each other. "When we get out of this metal box, I'll buy as many bras as you want."
With a roll of my eyes, I slip my hands under my blouse and unhook my bra. Slipping out of the straps, I pull the underwire out from the bottom and pass it to him.
"We're going to the mall this weekend."
"Whatever you want, sweetheart."
The sky turns pitch black as the truck backs into a garage. I keep a watch for anyone nearby while Tony struggles to attach the antenna to his cellphone.
"If you want to live. . ." From outside, the door to the container rattles open heftily. "Then come out of the container now."
Tony and I stand in position behind our defense structure.
"Didn't quite catch that, now. Could you repeat that for me?"
There's a pause of silence. "I said. . .come out now, woman!" I cock my gun. "Come out now, or we will come in."
"No."
I shoot the black leathered shoe of the man on the other side. He shrieks in pain, his shadow disappearing from view.
"Alright, I bought you some more time. Limited, but still something." I look back at Tony.
He slips the antenna through one of the slots, and the call to Gibbs is successful. However, the door slowly opening is a sign that we're not out of trouble just yet.
"We can do this." Tony mutters a few words of encouragement.
A small smile flashes across my face. "Hopefully."
The gunfire from both directions begins. We pause a couple of times, praying the crates hold still a bit longer. But our rounds start diminishing to low numbers.
His arm around my figure pulls me into his chest, protecting me from the bullets. However, one scratches his arm, and another enters through my shoulder.
"I'm empty." I pant heavily, struggling to keep my breath steady.
He clicks his own gun, showing me the empty chamber. "Gibbs is probably on his way to us right now. He'll find us."
"I should have invited you to the dinner party." I cling to my bleeding wound. "But you sounded so excited about the wrestling match, and I thought you'd be bored out of your mind."
"That's not possible. Not when I'm with you."
Lenny from Port Security arrives to save us, although that ends quickly when he draws his gun on us. "You almost cost me $50 million. You really think this is funny?"
"Not me, personally." Tony and I watch Gibbs appear from the other side of the truck.
"But I do." He aims his gun directly at Lenny's head. "Drop it."
McGee and Ziva arrive as well, locking the other men into the metal container. After a kick where the sun doesn't shine for Lenny, I run off to find the nearest restroom.
"And dinner. . .is not served." The dish simply refuses to sit on my oven mitt-clad hand as I try to carry it to the table.
Tony comes to the rescue, carrying it himself. "It smells amazing, Ev."
"Yeah, well. . ." A red tint flushes my cheeks as I pull out my chair. "It'd be a lot better if I wasn't wearing a sling, but you can't win them all."
"You didn't have to do this all for me, Ev. I would've been happy with takeout." He reaches across the table, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead.
"We deserve a home cooked meal after the day we've had."
He pops open the bottle of wine, pouring the red liquid into two glasses.
Together, we raise our glasses.
"To more momentous missions and dates."
"To you choosing to go entirely braless."
"Tony!"