Rock and a Hard Place

Written for the NFA Picture A Story, Titular Part 2, and No Dialogue Challenges

Inspired by the art photography of Clyde Butcher, and the picture Moonrise in particular.

Warnings: None

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters are the property of their respective copyright holders. No infringement intended. The original characters and places mentioned are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to those living, dead, or undead is completely coincidental.

"If the devil ever raised a garden, the Everglades was it."

~ James Carlos Blake

A deep, growling roar echoed across the landscape, pulling Tim McGee from his uneasy rest with a start. He groaned and used the aching muscles of his arms to tighten his grip on his perch, the horizontal trunk of a deformed bald cyprus. The stunted, gnarled tree served as his only lifeline, keeping him as far out of harm's way as he could get given his current predicament.

Tim winced as he readjusted his grip and tried to pull himself into as small a ball as possible to prevent his limbs from dangling any closer to the ground. If the source of that roar happened by, he want to limit its chances of being able to grab him and pull him from the tree. He had no intention of becoming food for one of the Everglades' most dangerous residents if he could prevent it.

How exactly he had wound up in one of the country's largest wetlands was still somewhat fuzzy in his mind and he tried to remember what had happened. He had tracked one of the suspects in their current case, a group of drug-traffickers operating outside Quantico that had murdered one of the Marines caught up in their operation, and Gibbs had ordered McGee and Tony to bring the man into custody. They had hopped a transport flight to the Coast Guard base in Miami and had intended to meet up with the local authorities, who had been monitoring the suspect, the following morning.

They hadn't even made it to the hotel when their rental car conked out, and while waiting for roadside assistance a black SUV had pulled up behind their car, setting off Tim's danger senses in a heartbeat. He had yelled a warning to Tony, reached for his weapon, and…

Tim frowned. Whatever had happened immediately after was conspicuously missing from his memory. The next thing he did remember was waking up in a dark, stuffy, confined space. It had taken him a moment to realize he was covered by a blanket with his hands and feet tied and he was in a moving vehicle. His slurred question as to what was happening had been met with a hard smack to the head and an order in thickly accented English to be quiet.

He hadn't been awake for long when the vehicle slowed to a halt and he was dragged from his resting place. He was dumped onto a hard surface in the open air and after what seemed like hours he was lifted and roughly tossed into another confined space. The roar of an engine and a sickening lurch when the vehicle left the ground told him he was in a small plane, headed for God knew where.

They hadn't been in the air too long when he captors started arguing with each other, or at least that's what it sounded like since he couldn't understand the rapid-fire Spanish the men were shouting. Tim used the opportunity of their distraction to try and free himself and he felt a surge of relief when he realized they hadn't taken the small knife he had tucked in his belt buckle. He had managed to cut the rope binding his wrists before he slowly drew his bound legs up to where he could reach with the knife. He had just cut through the second rope when the tone of the conversation changed. The voices had taken on a panicked tone and soon the reason for their anxiety had become apparent: the engine was failing.

Before Tim could react someone grabbed him and suddenly he felt himself falling through space unchecked. He barely had time to register the sensation before he hit something hard enough to knock the wind out of him and started to sink. He quickly fought his way to the surface, gasping and sputtering, before checking his surroundings. The nearly full moon overhead illuminated the surface of the pond into which he had fallen and he spotted a pair of shining eyes just above the surface that were for too close for comfort. In a panic he had swam for the shoreline, reaching it in near record time and had spotted the bent tree a few yards away. After clambering up the trunk and reaching his perch he had breathed a soft sigh of relief, a feeling that had evaporated as his situation finally registered.

Another roar pulled Tim from his thoughts and he quickly checked for the source of the sound. The moon was starting to sink towards the horizon and Tim could not see as much of the area as he had before, but there was no sign of the creature that could have made the terrifying sound. He pulled himself into an even tighter ball and prayed that daylight would come quickly so he could look for a way to get out of this mess.

As he waited for sunrise he wondered why he had been taken, and what had happened to his partner. He hadn't seen or heard any sign of Tony while waiting for the plane or while riding in it. Had the senior agent managed to escape Tim's fate? Or had he suffered something far worse? Tim struggled to remember but the events that had led to the two men being separated remained frustratingly absent.

It wasn't long before Tim noticed that the sky was getting lighter and he turned towards the east to watch the sun rise. The purples and reds of the early morning sky soon brightened to orange as the sun peaked over the horizon. It was a beautiful sunrise but Tim couldn't enjoy it in the least as he worried about what the light had revealed. Other than the pond, he could see nothing but sawgrass and thin, spindly leafless trees in all directions. The silence was almost overwhelming, and Tim began to wonder if he'd ever see another person pass through this scene of absolute desolation.

The good thing about the increase in light is that Tim could get a better idea of where the other residents might be hiding. He scanned the flatlands surrounding his perch but saw no evidence of predators. He was considering leaving his tree and starting the trek back to civilization when he noticed movement and looked down. A long, sinuous form was making its way past his tree and, as if sensing his attention, stopped and raised its wedge-shaped head to stare at him with slitted yellow eyes. Tim held his breath as its forked tongue flicked in and out of its mouth, tasting the air for his presence. After a few moments it lost interest and continued on its way. Its body, as big around as Tim's leg, seemed to go forever before finally disappearing into the sawgrass.

Tim let out the breath he had been holding and tightened his grip on the trunk. Trying to make it out on foot was looking less and less appealing. Tim smiled wryly to himself. It was probably too much to ask that a certain one-eyed ex-governor of Florida would come to his rescue and lead him out of the swamp unharmed.

As the sun started to climb overhead Tim became aware of another discomfort. His suit jacket was uncomfortably hot in the bright sunlight and his pale skin was starting to take on a pinkish hue. He carefully removed the dark, too heavy piece of clothing and used it and the branches in the vertical part of the trunk to construct a small but semi-effective tent over his head. One problem solved, but he quickly became aware of another: he was awfully thirsty.

Tim groaned and tried not to think about his growing need for fresh water. Granted, there was water not too far away, but he was fairly sure it wasn't safe to drink, never mind the danger of actually trying to get to it. To keep his mind away from his discomfort he scanned the area again, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone who would rescue him. He noticed a column of smoke in the distance but otherwise there was no sign of human activity. He did see several flocks of birds pass overhead: egrets, pelicans, seagulls, and a group of pink-hued birds that he thought at first were flamingos. A large black vulture landed in another tree a few yards away and eyed Tim speculatively (or so Tim thought) before flying off, much to Tim's relief.

Time passed with aching slowness until finally the sun started to sink towards the western horizon. Tim wasn't thrilled with the idea of another night spent in the wilderness, especially another night without water. He started to wonder what would kill him first: dehydration, heat stroke, or one of the native or non-native reptiles.

Or blood loss from mosquitos bites, he thought acerbically as he swatted yet another invader.

Just as the sun slipped below the horizon Tim heard a noise that could definitely not be associated with a natural resident of the wilderness: an engine. Briefly he wondered if it was his kidnappers, finally returning to collect their hostage. He worriedly scanned the skies and was soon rewarded with the image of a helicopter moving swiftly towards the area surrounding his hiding place. He tried to wave to get the pilot's attention but lost his balance and nearly fell out of the tree. He tightened his grip and hoped they would notice him.

A few moments later he heard the helicopter hovering overhead and he chanced a look up. A familiar face was visible in the doorway, looking down at him and grinning broadly from ear to ear. Tim couldn't help grinning in return, both in relief at seeing his partner safe and sound, and for the fact that the much desired rescue had finally arrived.

He was going home.

The End

A/N: I haven't fallen off the face of the Earth, I've just been busy with my new job. Any reviews on this little piece would be greatly appreciated.