A/N: Alrighty, folks. This is my post Till Death Do Us Part fic. Not much to say about it except that I hope you enjoy it. :)
The first thing Tony thought about when he came into consciousness was the pain. The incessant pounding in his head that he was fairly certain would refuse to cease for weeks. Next was the throbbing of his left wrist, which he was certain was broken. The air was heavy, thick with years of dust and crumbling walls. Each breath was a challenge, his scarred lungs struggled to breathe through the crap that he was certain would give him pneumonia.
"Hmm, concussion and a broken wrist." He took a sharp breath in and winced. "Maybe some broken ribs, too. Could be worse."
He could feel the stiffness of dried blood on his forehead, the tightness that comes with a healing wound. He didn't dare touch it to check for size. He didn't want to shift the debris yet if he didn't have to.
After the shock of injury wore off, he registered the warmth pressed against his body. Ziva.
He knew she was alive. He could feel the light movement of her chest, her breath on their entwined fingers. She would still be unconscious. She fell right on top of him, and all of the crap the ceiling was made of on top of her. There had to be some stuff crushing her. There was no way in hell she was this heavy.
"Ziva." he said, trying to rouse her.
"Ziva." he said, louder. Still she gave no response. "Ziva!" he tried one last time. Nothing.
He wanted to shake her, or touch her face, or anything that would force her to wake up, but he didn't know what fell on her, he didn't know if he could injure her more by moving her.
He sighed. If there were one thing Anthony DiNozzo hated being more than any other, it was helpless. There was nothing he could do until she woke up.
For now he just had to wait it out. She was still breathing, and that was good enough for now.
Downstairs in the lab, Gibbs woke to immense pain. His entire body felt like it was on fire. Stabbing pains in his back, his shoulder and head throbbed, his ribs causing shooting pain every time he took a breath. He groaned as he attempted to find the source that was jostling his body back and forth. Abby he thought.
"Gibbs. Gibbs. Please wake up. I know you're in there. Gibbs, Gibbs." He could hear Abby talking frantically through obvious tears trying to rouse him.
"Abs."
"Gibbs! Oh thank god. I woke up and I thought you were dead and I didn't know what to do and I."
"Abs, just stop shaking me."
"Oh, god, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to, I just thought it was the best way to wake you up because we really need to get out of here, and I didn't want to just pull you along because there's some glass in your jacket and I didn't want to cut you."
"It's okay." He noticed that she was covered almost head to toe in red. "Are you okay? Where are you hurt?" He sat up, alarmed.
"Oh, most of this is Caf-Pow. I'm not bad. Just some bumps and bruises."
He nodded, sighing in relief. It was then that Gibbs felt the oppressive heat in the room.
"Abs, is your lab on fire?" he coughed out
"Just a little bit. The ceiling tiles are supposed to be fire retardant, but even they're not explosion proof."
"Okay. I want you to stay as low to the ground as you can and head towards the door."
"No, I'm not leaving you here, Gibbs."
"You're not leaving me, just giving me a second to get up."
"Do you need help?"
"No, no I do not."
"Are you sure? Because it kinds of looks like your shoulder is dislocated from here."
"I know that. I just need a minute."
"To what?"
"To figure out a way to get us out of here."
"You...you don't already have a plan?"
"Not a good one."
"But, you're Gibbs. You always have a plan. You follow your gut and keep us out of trouble and always get your man. You can't not have a plan."
"I will, but Abbs what I need you to do right now is grab Bert and head for the door. We'll figure it out when we're away from the smoke."
"Okay. But if you're not out in two minutes, I'm coming back in after you."
He nodded. He watched as she crawled her way out the lab door, trying to avoid getting sliced by the copious amount glass all over the floor. He shook his head, ignoring the nausea that tried to overwhelm him with each movement. There was a chance they wouldn't make it out of this one. He just hoped the rest of the team made it out okay.
When McGee woke, there was only pain. Pain in his head, pain in his ribs, his neck, his chest. Pain in his whole body. His head felt like it was splitting open straight up the back. There was an overwhelming heaviness throughout his body. Even to shift his arm or turn his head felt like he were lifting a boulder. He tried to sit up, to open his eyes and try to figure a way out. As soon as peeked his eyes open to the light and the heat of the day, he turned to the side, vomited violently and passed out once again.
Crushing, dizzying pain is all Ducky felt. Radiating straight from his heart, the paralyzing pain sent him falling to the ground. Sixteen dead thus far, and no sign of team Gibbs. The pain seized him in a way he had not thought possible. The overwhelming heartbreak he felt was incomparable to any he had experienced before. His family was likely dead, and he could not save them.
The cool ocean water rushed around him, keeping him as awake as he could be. He tried to move, to get his face away from the water, but to no avail. All he could do was breathe and wait. Wait for death, or for some merciful soul to happen upon him.
The world was growing fuzzy. Noise was muffled, his vision hazy, the edges growing black more quickly than he would like. He spotted a young woman jogging up the beach, speeding up once she saw him in the sand. He could faintly hear her footsteps growing closer and closer before he lost his battle of wills and the darkness took him under.