The Travelers' Tale
by channelD
written for: the NFA It Was a Dark and Stormy Night challenge
rating: K plus
genre: drama/humor
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disclaimer: I still own nothing of NCIS.
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"It was a stark and dormy night," Ziva said. She was tired beyond belief. The words sounded right to her, but she had a slight suspicion that they weren't.
"It was a stork and a smarmy night," she began again.
"There was a dork on an Army night?" she tried.
"Ziva—why are you torturing us…I mean, yourself this way?" Tim groaned.
"I am trying to set atmospherics. Atmosphere," the Mossad officer said firmly. "It is important that that be done or the story will make no sense at all."
"Heaven forbid that that happen," Tony mumbled.
"Hush. I will continue," Ziva said stoutly.
"Between the blasts of wind and thunder, the earth was hushed. No creature stirred, not even a mouse. Or was that another story?"
"Ziva…"
"Sorry…On this dark, dark night, which was also stormy, three travelers huddled around a campfire. Personally, I think that is redundant, yes? You would not huddle in a campfire."
"If you were cold enough, you might," said Tim, only saying "Sorry," at Tony's sharp look.
"No more interruptions," said Ziva sternly. "This story has a long way to go.
"Three travelers huddled around a campfire, as I said. They had come from far away. Their horses had bolted all at once when they stopped to feed, and now the travelers were stranded far from the nearest village in one of the harshest storms they had ever seen. It was scary…assuming one fears the weather…which, for the purpose of the story, they all do.
"The rain came down as if from great faucets in the heavens. Lightning cracked and raced to earth dangerously near. Thunder pounded the travelers' eardrums mercilessly. The travelers would probably survive, if it did not get too cold, but they would not be comfortable."
Tony got up, and looked out the window across the darkness and the pounding rain thoughtfully. He then looked back at his teammates, his gaze finally settling on Ziva. Go on, his look implored.
"Why were they there in the first place? They were…traders, of silks and spices from lands far, far away. There were always shopkeepers and villagers who would buy their goods. The goods were very, very fine: silks in all colors and patterns, in bolts large and small, some expensive and some affordable. Fit for royalty and commoners alike. Spices…what is food without spices for flavoring? Bland, unappetizing…ultimately discarded, partially eaten. No, food must be eaten, consumed whole, to give one the strength to carry on day to day, to work, to fight, to procreate. Spices are a part of that.
"Misfortune had followed them the entire length of this journey. First, two back—no, packhorses had gone lame on the first day. Then, an attack by mountain lions resulted in the loss of two more horses. The horses could be replaced, but the cost was dear. By the time the traders reached the western realms, their wallets were thin and they rationed their supplies."
She paused and then shrugged. "You are next, Tony. I have used the words earth, wind and atmosphere, as you requested."
"Not quite. You used atmosphere and atmospherics in describing your story, but not in the story itself. You'll have to use an additional word next round. Right, Probie?"
"Right."
"Fine," Ziva said, her feathers slightly ruffled. "Your words, Tony, are water and skin."
"Arrgh," said Tony. "You don't want to go first, McGee?"
"No."
"All right. Pay attention, then."
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"The traders' campsite was near water," Tony began. "Water is, of course, necessary for all life. Being savvy travelers who'd learned from the mistakes of others, they always purified their water before they used it for cooking or drinking. They got the kits at WalMart, having seen them advertised on—"
"Tony!" Ziva scolded over Tim's low chuckle.
"You have no sense of art, you know? All right…
"At the present, though, their main concern was staying warm and dry until the storm had passed. They'd pitched a tent under a tree, hoping it wouldn't get hit by lightning. They were two men and a woman. Their names were…uh, Tonysaurus—"
"'Tony sore arse', did you say?" Ziva said, wrinkling her nose and eliciting a laugh from Tim.
" 'Tonysaurus,' " Tony growled. "Like a dinosaur."
"Ah, I see. Old and antiquated," Ziva nodded, while Tim's laugh became a cough. She offered him a drink of water.
"More like strong and leaderlike," Tony said gruffly. "The other two were named… Zivajeebies and McGeeky."
"Which was which?" asked Tim.
"Shut up and let me continue. The three had worked together for several years and knew each other well. Zivajeebies came from a far-off land and was an expert in killing enemies with hat pins…"
"What is a 'half pin'?" Ziva sounded intrigued. "That is a wrestling move, yes?"
"Exactly," said Tony, giving in for once. "Tonysaurus was a smart and cunning trader from a long line of traders. Little McGeeky was too smart for his britches, so he often wore kilts."
"Hey!" Tim objected.
"Just seeing if you were still awake, Probie. Anyway…McGeeky, in his trousers, was grumbling that night about the rain and the muddy ground on which they were sitting. They were all wet, of course; soaked to the skin. The storm showed no signs of abating."
Just then, lightning cracked the air with a strike close by. The lights flickered and went out.
"I saw a lantern," said Ziva, getting to her feet, penlight in hand. "I will get it."
Tim said, "It's over by me, I think. I'll get it."
"Let Ziva do it," Tony said quickly. "You don't need to get up."
"Fine," Tim said. "Go on with the story, then."
"What? Speak in the dark? I can't see what I'm saying!"
Just then, lamplight lit the room as Ziva set the kerosene lantern on the central table. "Yes, Tony. Go on. I am intrigued. I want to know more about Zivajeebies…such a pretty name; it must mean something nice."
"Er, yes. The storm wasn't abating. It was dark, because it was night, and by tradition, that's when it's dark. I've used my two words; water and skin. Your turn, McGee."
"I can take your turn if you would rather listen, McGee."
"S'OK, Ziva. I can do it," said Tim, though his voice sounded a little fuzzy. "Come sit closer to me, though, so I don't have to shout. What are my words, Tony?"
"Fire and stone. Can you make up a story without your typewriter?"
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Tim gave him an eye. "The three traders hadn't looked very hard for shelter because they'd just listened to Tony-sore-arse when they stopped. McGeeky looked up, stood up, and peered through his spyglass. Not far away he could see a light! It was probably a house! Surely they could take shelter there from the storm.
"So he relayed this to the other two, and they gathered up their things quickly. They set off for the light. But when they got there, it was…was…" He stopped in a fit of coughing.
"McGee, have some more water," said Ziva. She was calm but her eyes showed concern. "Drink."
"We…don't have…much wa—water," Tim choked. "I…can't…"
"Yes, you can. Do not be concerned."
Tony stood and looked out at the storm. Where is Gibbs? He should have been here by now, along with the rescue squad…
There may not be much time left…
"Why am I…lying here? Got to…get up…"
"No, McGee. Stay where you are. Can you finish your part of the story?"
"What story? Is it time to go home? I want…"
"Soon. Soon it will be."
Ziva's so good at soothing, when she wants to be. Boss, where are you?! Damn this storm…
"I want…to go…to sleep now…"
"Not just yet, Probie. Wait a bit, okay?"
"Why?" Tim's voice was ragged.
"Because. Want me to continue the story for you? Or actually, it's Ziva's turn next. Ms. Zivajeebies."
"Story…"
"Yes. You used the word fire. Ziva can take over with the word stone, and she still needs to use atmosphere."
"I remember now." Tim took another sip from the mug Ziva held to his lips. "I'll do it."
Ziva and Tony exchanged looks. "If you think you can, Probie. Tell us if you need to stop."
"Lemme see…The traders walked toward the light, in the pouring rain. But as they got closer, they saw it was a fire. A building was burning. A building on the edge of a graveyard…"
"Oh, please, McGee. No ghost stories tonight," Ziva said quickly.
"Okay. There was a building beside it, made of stone, that wasn't burning. When they came near, a door in it opened, and…" Tim's head fell to one side.
"McGee!" Tony and Ziva scrambled to the bedside.
"Finally! How's McGee?" came a new voice as the cabin door swung open.
"Boss! He just passed out. I think we wore him out."
"You didn't have to keep him awake, you know," said Gibbs, crossing the room to study Tim. "Ducky said it's a myth that head injury victims have to be kept awake."
"We know," said Ziva. "On the phone he told us that. But we felt that McGee was borderline…now and then he had these moments of confusion. He's been like that since his fall. And he may have broken some ribs, too."
"We wanted to see that he wasn't getting really bad," Tony added. "If he'd gone downhill suddenly, we would have packed him in the car, despite the broken headlight and the gearshift problems, and sped out of here."
"You might not have gotten far," said Gibbs. "The storm has trees down right and left. An ambulance is coming from the other direction; should be here in a few minutes."
"Great! Spending a night in the little house on the prairie is not high on my list of things I want to do."
"I don't doubt it, DiNozzo. So what all have you been doing for the last hour?"
"Just…telling a story."
"Are you finished?" Gibbs asked wryly. "The ambulance is here."
"I am glad. It will be good to leave here and get some… atmosphere," said Ziva, and winked at Tony.
"Yep, we're done," said Tony.
-END-