Story Notes: Loosely set in the world of Cormac McCarthy's "The Road." Very AU. This story contains graphic violence, disturbing imagery, and off-color language.

Chapter Notes: First published November 30, 2012.

(one)
Oxygen and Syllables

The landscape rolled out in front of them, bleak and empty. The road was abandoned, now with only dead and drying leaves blowing across it. The sun, nothing but a murky red ball, was sinking lower and lower towards a far hill. They couldn't stop it. Soon it would be night, and with the moon and the stars veiled by smog and ash, it would be as black as an inkwell out here. And cold, too.

"Hey, where are we going?" McGee asked, stumbling along the pavement and almost dropping the backpack he had slung over his good shoulder.

DiNozzo didn't pause; he didn't even vary his determined gait. McGee had been asking that same question for days now.

They had stopped calling each other by their names. Just by "hey" or "you" or some sort of grunt or nudge. It was just the two of them anyway. "Tony" and "Tim" or "McGee" and "DiNozzo" had just become a superfluous waste of oxygen and syllables.

"I don't know," DiNozzo finally answered.

They had been walking for a while, following this road to the outskirts of the metropolitan area. DiNozzo had reasoned that it would be safer out here, safer away from the starving horde of humanity. His head hurt and he was queasy. Constant hunger nagged at his gut.

"You don't know yet?" McGee groused. "Then let's stop. I'm tired."

"We have to keep going."

"Why? We don't even know where we're going! We should stop, save our energy, and then figure out where we should go."

"I have an idea."

"Are you going to share that with me?"

DiNozzo refused to answer.

"Hey you, c'mon!" McGee sped up a bit, lurching forward to bring himself abreast with Tony. He stepped in front of him, stubbornly bracing himself when DiNozzo nearly tripped over the sudden fleshy roadblock. "What's your idea? Tell me."

"We're going to Gibbs' place," he finally answered. It was simple, to the point. He leveled his gaze on McGee in a weak attempt to portray strength and control.

McGee bit his lip and echoed, "Gibbs' place?" He studied DiNozzo for a bit. Studied him in the fading light closer than he had before. His eyes were dazed and glassy, no doubt still suffering the affects of having his skull nearly bashed in by a wooden bat. McGee reached out and grabbed at DiNozzo's dirty shirt in an attempt to prevent an escape, should he have chosen to do so. "Gibbs won't be there."

"We might be able to stay, at least."

"And if we don't find Gibbs and the house is completely looted?"

"We'll go to Stillwater," DiNozzo answered easily.

"Huh?" McGee frowned. "We'll walk to Stillwater." He nudged at his partner's side, intentionally brushing against an injured rib, as if to remind him of their less than stellar condition. He didn't balk at Tony's wince. "That's at least 200 miles. Are you crazy?"

"You have a better idea?" DiNozzo growled.

"Uh, yeah! How about instead of wandering around until we die of hunger and cold, we go back to civilization. They have to be setting up camps for survivors and maybe we can help some people instead of running away and saving our own skins…"

DiNozzo was suddenly pissed. He pushed himself close to McGee. "No! We're not going back there, you hear me?"

"You're not thinking clearly."

"I am thinking plenty clearly. You go back there and you're guaranteed to get ripped apart limb by limb for those granola bars in that backpack. Got that?"

"Your head is all bashed in." McGee wasn't exactly exaggerating. The bat had done a number. The point of impact was scabbed over and angry-looking, and during some moments Tony was loopier than others. McGee hated to admit that some nights, while it was his turn to sit watch, he wondered if Tony would even wake up when it was time for them to trade. If he never woke up, McGee would be truly alone. That both terrified him and made him feel guilty. He feared abandonment more than Tony's potential death.

DiNozzo suddenly patted him gently on his good shoulder and scooted to the side. "I know. But it hasn't made me stupid, okay? So just… calm down." Tony started walking again, as if nothing had happened.

The sun was now halfway hidden behind the hill. The both of them were casting long, faint shadows on the asphalt. The chill was already boring itself into McGee's bones.

"That's it?" Tim cried. "We're going to walk 200 miles to Stillwater? And for what purpose?" He watched DiNozzo's retreating back, but he refused to follow him.

"You wanna do your own thing? Go ahead," Tony replied without looking back. "Good luck."

McGee huffed. He was pissed off and beyond exhausted, so he limped off to the grassy shoulder and sat down, dumping the backpack as he did. He would rest for a few minutes while keeping an eye on DiNozzo's shrinking form. He rubbed at his shoulder and shut his eyes for a moment. He ached all over - not just physically, but mentally, too.

He pulled his cell phone from his pocket. It couldn't make calls, but sometimes he'd turn it on just to look at the pictures. Of Abby. Of Sarah. Even of the rest of the team. McGee gave himself only a few moments of reprieve while he chewed on a granola bar before he shut the device off again. The mapping application was still working, and if DiNozzo saw him wasting the battery, he'd get angry.

McGee gazed up the road. He still saw Tony, although it looked like he had slowed, probably to find a suitable place to kill the night. The darkness was closing in fast now. They may have wanted some distance before, but they didn't want to become separated. McGee wrapped up the remaining half of the granola bar, saving it for Tony. He then stumbled to his feet with a groan, slinging the backpack on his shoulder before tottering back onto the pavement.

He eventually caught up to DiNozzo, luckily before it got so dark they couldn't even see their hands in front of their faces. He'd gone off into the woods at the side of the road and found a place partially shielded from the cold breeze. They didn't acknowledge their earlier disagreement and barely even acknowledged the fact that they were together again.

"You go ahead and sleep," Tony said. "I'll take first watch."

McGee frowned. Usually he took first watch. "You sure?"

DiNozzo didn't answer. He simply grabbed the backpack and set it gently on the ground.

Still wary, Tim dug his jacket out of the bag. He then pressed the half of the granola bar into DiNozzo's hand. "Eat that." He watched as Tony went to sit on a rock, stuffing the bar into his mouth. As the night blanketed them completely, McGee curled up in the sweet-smelling leaf litter. As usual, he felt like an animal, but he was too exhausted to care. This was just another night to suffer through. He shut his eyes and waited for the hour when DiNozzo would nudge him awake and they would trade places.

That hour never came, and it was actually the pale daylight that finally nudged McGee into awareness.

He lay still for a while, his body sore but cocooned by dead leaves. He blinked and stared at the tops of the wintering trees and at the gray sky above. As he was pondering how morning had come so swiftly, he felt warm air on the side of his face. It was then when he remembered that DiNozzo was supposed to have woken him up for second watch. McGee all but bolted upright, ignoring his shoulder's sharp protest. He looked around. Same bleak woods. Same leaves. Then he looked down beside him.

Tony still slept, curled on his side and wrapped up in his tattered black jacket. His face was pale and lax with sleep. He was disturbingly close.

Tim was suddenly angry. No one had been keeping watch while they slept. Tony had taken first watch just so that he could go to sleep as soon as Tim had. Tony hadn't let him sleep out of kindness alone - he'd done it because it was advantageous to himself. Attempting to cap his sudden and irrational hatred of his friend, McGee punched DiNozzo's arm hard enough to leave a bruise.

DiNozzo jerked and grunted into some semblance of awareness. "Wha's happ'ning?" he slurred, blinking around like he was blind.

McGee frowned. As soon as he noticed Tony's reaction, he knew it was going to be a Bad Day with a capital B and D. It usually happened every fourth day, when DiNozzo would wake up as something less than fully cognizant. It was the head injury, for sure, rearing up and letting itself be known. Tony would stagger and slur; he'd even drool and piss on himself. For McGee, it was disgusting and terrifying. For DiNozzo, it was misery. Even McGee could see that, gazing into the other man's eyes and seeing only dim awareness.

"Nothing is happening," Tim answered tersely. "Other than the fact that we could have been mauled by wolves or something last night." Actually, he was beginning to think that was a preferable end to the hell they currently inhabited.

"No wolves." Tony's voice was barely audible.

"That's not the point. You promised that while one of us slept the other would keep watch. You promised."

"Sorry," DiNozzo whispered. He hadn't moved to get up; he was shivering.

Tim leaned his back against the thick trunk of a tree and rubbed at his face. The back of his eyeballs burned, as if he was suddenly going to cry. He wanted to scream at himself, to get a hold of his sanity. "It's okay," Tim finally said, a bit grudgingly. He took his own jacket and draped it over Tony's still body.

Indeed, it was going to be a Bad Day, and he'd be spending it all right here in this patch of woods. Alone.