A/N: For anyone who is not familiar with the story of Jericho from the Old Testament, here's the cliff notes version (very paraphrased) which will help the title make sense. The Israelites (God's chosen people, now called Jews by the name of their faith) were lead by Joshua into the promised land. God had given it all to them, but the people of Jericho refused to surrender their fortified city, so God told Joshua and all the people to march once around the city each day for six days. On the seventh day they marched around the city seven times and the priests blew their trumpets and the people (quite possibly about a million of them, the numbers are a little iffy) shouted and the walls of the city collapsed and came tumbling down. I've got a lot of Bible stories in my head but I didn't really understand the title until I thought about how hard Tony had to fight to get the mission approved. *shrugs* Anyhow, it seemed fitting. Thanks to the reader (I'm sorry, I have a horrible memory and can't remember who it was) who requested this story. I don't think this would have happened without you. Enjoy! This is the prequel to the Remnants of Somalia series.
All threats had been neutralized by the time the four world weary soldiers stepped out of the stone building and into the burning hot light. It was Ziva's first taste of freedom in months, but she halted, unsure, just inside the door, squinting and blinking at the bright sunshine, her eyes not used to anything more than the dim corridors and suffocatingly dark rooms of Saleem's camp.
Tim and Tony kept their arms securely around her as they made the slow journey to the waiting helicopter, following in the steps of their team leader. The coarse grass and sharp stones dug into the tender, torn up soles of Ziva's feet, but she said nothing. When Tony looked back and saw a trail of blood following them, he stopped, cut his eyes to McGee, and lifted Ziva into his arms, determined to carry her the rest of the way no matter how much his muscles protested the extra weight and movement. He had to stop himself from blurting out how light Ziva felt, bite his tongue to keep from expressing his concerns at the way her hipbone dug into his stomach or how he could feel the bumps on her spine sticking out.
Once on the helicopter Gibbs sat across from the three of them and they held on tight for the short hop to a nearby military base and climbed aboard the waiting cargo plane. There Gibbs took charge and wrapped a blanket around Ziva's thin frame, handing her a bottle of water and a granola bar from the backpack on the floor. Tony and McGee sat on the other side of the plane and let the reality of the mission settle in. They were alive. Against all odds, Ziva was alive. And now they were finally going home. The last four days felt like a lifetime.
A gagging sound above the roar of the engines caught Tony's attention and his eyes jumped to Ziva, hunched over and emptying the meager contents of her stomach into the plastic bag Gibbs held. When she finished, he gave her a handkerchief to wipe her mouth and looked over his shoulder at them. Tony closed his eyes and wanted to cry. She was starving, her body so unused to food that it rejected the nourishment she so desperately needed.
Gibbs took a seat beside his recovering agent and whispered words to her that didn't make it across the space between them. Over the next hour he encouraged Ziva to take little sips of water, not satisfied until she finished nearly half of the bottle. During that time he knelt before her and used gauze from the first aid kid on board to bandage her feet, hoping to keep them from getting infected. Then, when she passed out from sheer exhaustion, Gibbs eased her body down to rest on his lap and brushed his hand slowly over her hair again and again, the repetitive motion seeming to relax her.
For the remaining time left in the flight, Tony stared at his sleeping partner. He wished it was him beside her, stroking her hair and feeling her breathe. He needed proof that she was alive, because from the moment the hood was pulled off her head, Tony had been afraid to trust his eyes. It seemed like an endless amount of time before they arrived at the field hospital where all were whisked away to be checked out. Tony's terror at being separated from his teammates, especially Ziva, was intense, and he fought the doctors trying to help until Gibbs headslapped him and ordered him to stay put while the IV bag finished flushing the truth serum drugs from his system.
Their fearless leader, invincible as always, refused attention and split his time between his agents, but stayed as close as he could to Ziva's curtained off corner. Keeping out of sight, Gibbs watched the nurses try to undress her and Ziva's feeble attempts at fighting them off. His heart broke when they sedated her for everyone's safety and began a careful examination before cleaning and dressing the worst of her wounds as best they could.
Even not fully coherent, some pain must've registered, because silent tears slipped down her cheeks and it was all Gibbs could do not to let his own fall. That was his daughter in there and she was hurting and he couldn't do anything for her. She wasn't his blood, but much like Abby, she was his heart. He kept watch until they were all cleared to travel and put on a smaller, relatively empty prop flight for the trip to a real airport where the group finally settled into the last row of seats for the overnight flight that would take them home.
Ziva slept for hours, which Tony found preferable to her being awake. He hated looking over and seeing her empty eyes. There was no expression, no animation, no nothing - as if her reasons for living had been completely stripped away. His fear now that they'd found her, was that perhaps Ziva really had died out there but no one had the heart to tell him.
Any sleep Tony got came in catnaps before he jolted awake with the paralyzing fear that it had all been a dream. But Ziva was still there sitting beside Gibbs every time his eyes snapped open, and it slowly dawned on Tony that she had not glanced his way even once. So maybe she'd finally remembered that she hated him, that this was all his fault, that if he hadn't shot Michael she might've spent a quiet summer in DC instead of slowly wasting away in a Somali desert.
Those thoughts plagued and haunted Tony during the landing, their slow progression to Gibbs' car in a forgotten corner of the parking garage, and the drive to NCIS that went by all too fast. When they were all in the elevator together, Tony leaned back against the wall and said the only thing he could think of, though it was lacking the humour his tone usually infused. "Just another day at the office." No one else moved or spoke so he shut his mouth and instead decided to be thankful they'd made it back in one piece. In the words of a famous action hero: Mission Accomplished.