A/n -Thanks to everyone who reviewed, put alerts up and fav'd my story. It means a lot and is a great encouragement to give ye more. Hope this lives up to expectations.

Chapter 2

"Boss?"

Tony stood, mouth gaping wide open, staring in disbelief. Gibbs was lying face down on the floor and he wasn't moving. He had seen Gibbs hurt before and he would usually be growling or cussing or kicking something, but this time he wasn't. There was a sickening silence. A feeling of dread descended over Tony as he holstered his weapon and tentatively approached his downed boss. He held his breath. This couldn't be happening.

"Boss, are you okay?" he asked, hoping Gibbs' head would rise and he'd give him a stony glare or a telling off.

Ominously, there was no reply. That was when Tony noticed the small hole punched through the back of Gibbs' heavy rain jacket. He swallowed hard, experience telling him what was the cause of it. He slowly raised the bottom of the jacket and was sickened by what it revealed: a growing bloodstain on Gibbs' shirt.

"No, no, God… no!"

He carefully rolled Gibbs onto his side and was even more horrified to see a larger pool of blood already forming beneath him. The source of the blood was an exit wound to the right of Gibbs' belly button. His head hung limply as Tony awkwardly tried to cradle him in his arms.

"Don't do this to me, Boss," he pleaded emotionally. He lowered Gibbs gently to the floor and felt for a pulse. He was alive, at least for now. He quickly realised the peril of their predicament, remembering how long it had taken them to hike to the cabin. His boss needed help and Tony knew that they were miles from anywhere and help was a long way off.

He took out his cell phone to call 911 and cursed when he remembered that there was no service. He checked in Gibbs' pockets and found his phone. Please, please, please, he willed as he held it up in the air, hoping to see bars but again, no service.

"Damn it! Come on, Boss," he begged, willing him to wake up. He gently tapped Gibbs' cheek, hoping to stir him. "Open your eyes for me, Boss. Open your eyes!" he practically ordered as he pressed his knuckles into Gibbs' sternum. Still there was no response.

The jagged exit wound in Gibbs' flank was bleeding heavily. Tony knew he would have to stop the bleeding if Gibbs was to have any chance of survival. He looked around for something that he could use. There wasn't much. Behind the wooden sofa, an ornate dresser stood against the wall, decorated with colourful old china and a few tacky ornaments. He opened the drawers and found silverware and some linen. There were table napkins and a white table cloth, just what he needed. With his knife he ripped the table cloth into strips. He folded the napkins into thick wads and pressed them firmly against Gibbs' abdominal wound.

His actions drew a pitiful groan from the wounded man. Gibbs' eyes fluttered open and he found himself looking into DiNozzo's terrified face. He raised his head slightly off the ground, just enough to see the blood on his shirt before dropping his head to the floor with a thud and another woeful moan.

"Take it easy, Boss," Tony said, as he tried to secure a long strip of table cloth around Gibbs' waist. "You've been shot. It's a through and through," Tony explained as calmly as he could, "but I need to stop the bleeding."

Gibbs' breathing was reminiscent of a woman in labour, in short shallow pants. It was his way of trying to cope with the searing pain. He felt like his body was being torn in two. As Tony tied the cloth tightly around his mid-rift, the agony flared and Gibbs felt as though he was going to pass out again.

"Sorry, Boss," Tony apologised, knowing what he was doing must have been torture for Gibbs. "No, no, no, come on, stay with me," he pleaded once more when Gibbs' eyes rolled back in their sockets.

He tapped Gibbs gently on the cheek again, coaxing him back to consciousness. Once more, Gibbs' eyes fluttered open.

"There you go, Boss," Tony said, relieved to see those cobalt eyes staring back at him. "I need to get this off you, Boss," Tony told him, referring to his rain jacket. He needed better access to the wounds so he could treat them and the heavy material of the jacket prevented that.

Slowly he raised Gibbs into a semi-seated position. Gibbs' breathing changed as the agony of the movement ripped through him. Carefully but quickly Tony removed his jacket one sleeve at a time, all the while supporting Gibbs' ailing body in his arms. The wound on his back didn't seem to be bleeding as heavily as the one in front but he would have to bandage it also.

"I'm going to lay you on your side so I can tend to this wound, okay, Boss?"

"Do it," Gibbs managed to reply through gritted teeth.

Gently, Tony laid him down on his side. There was no doubt that the movement was torture for his boss, but he never complained. Again Tony fashioned a dressing from the cloth napkins and pressed it against Gibbs' back. He noted with some concern how close the entry wound had come to his spine but kept his concerns to himself. He secured the dressing, this time, using the belt from his trousers.

"You still with me, Boss?" he asked, leaning over to check on him.

"Still …here," Gibbs replied, sounding weak.

Tony reached up and took a cushion from the sofa and placed it under Gibbs' head. He contemplated trying to get Gibbs up onto the sofa to make him more comfortable. He considered the amount of suffering the movement would cause him and the likelihood of causing more bleeding, so decided against it. It was best to make him as comfortable as possible where he was. Tony knew, however, that he would have to go for help. That meant leaving his wounded boss alone. He stood up, walked to the window and looked out into the tree line. There was no sign of Lewis, but that didn't mean he wasn't there. He walked to the door and only then noticed that there was blood on the door frame. It looked like he had gotten a piece of Lewis after all.

He looked into the haunting tree-lined horizon. It was getting late. The sun was low and it would be dark soon. Tony knew that if he was going to go for help that it had to be sooner rather than later. He looked down at Gibbs, who was now breathing more heavily. Perspiration dampened his silver hair and forehead as he struggled to cope with his injury.

Tony knelt down in front of Gibbs so his he could see him.

"Boss, I really don't want to leave you like this but I have to go for help," Tony told him, fighting back tears that threatened to fall.

Gibbs looked into his senior field agent's eyes. He could see that Tony was heartbroken. There was something in his eyes that just reached in and touched Gibbs' soul. He extended his hand out and took Tony's hand in his. It wasn't often that he touched the younger agent. Usually they only connected when he dished out the occasional, but well-deserved, head-slap. This time it was different. The touch held significance; it was a poignant moment for both men.

"Be careful," Gibbs gasped, looking into Tony's eyes. He could see his own fears mirrored in DiNozzo's eyes.

"I will, Boss. I'll be back. You just hang on. Take this," Tony said, placing Gibbs' Sig Sauer into his hand. "I clipped him but he might come back. Just in case."

Gibbs took the weapon and laid it on the ground within easy reach.

Before he left, Tony fetched the sleeping bag from the bedroom and covered Gibbs' torso with it. He could see that Gibbs was going into shock by the tremors that gripped him every minute or two. His pallor was becoming more ashen by the second. He had to move fast. His boss was running out of time.

He cast a final worried glance at Gibbs before stepping out into the night. It was one of the most difficult things he had ever done, walking away and leaving him there, but he had little choice. If he stayed, he knew that Gibbs would bleed out without medical attention. At least, by going for help, he was giving him a fighting chance. He decided to head back towards their car and call for help as soon as he got cell phone coverage. He just hoped he could get there and back without Lewis finding him. Somehow, he knew Lewis wouldn't be in a very helpful mood.

Gibbs watched through increasingly unfocused eyes as DiNozzo disappeared into the dusk. He realised that it was probably the last time he would see the young man he had come to consider a son. He knew his injury was severe and didn't hold out much hope of getting out of there alive. He was a seasoned Marine who had witnessed the horrors of war. He had seen comrades similarly wounded, gut-shot as they called it. It was a horrible, slow and agonising death. He reached for the cold steel of his Sig Sauer for reassurance. If the pain got too bad, using it was always an option he thought, a last resort. But right now, he needed to conserve his strength. He felt so weak and completely exhausted. He allowed his eyes to close and wondered if he would ever open them again.

Back at the Navy Yard, Ziva was beginning to get concerned.

"McGee, have you heard from Tony or Gibbs at all?"

"Not since they reached the trail. They should have been at the cabin by now. Have you tried to call them?" McGee wondered.

"Yes, both phones are going straight to voicemail."

"Maybe there's no cell service. Sometime if the trees are dense or they're shielded by mountains, cell coverage would be patchy. I'll see if I can track their cells," McGee decided.

Ziva walked over to his desk and stood behind him impatiently. She watched as he brought up a topographical map of the area and highlighted the nearest cell towers.

"You see these cell towers? They cover this area. The cabin is roughly in this area," he said, pointing to the map on his screen. "There would be no coverage there. Hopefully, they'll get back into range soon," he said, trying not to panic just yet.

"Okay," Ziva said, she too not wanting to appear unnecessarily concerned just yet.

Just then, Abby bounded into the bullpen, full of energy as usual.

"Hey, guys. How's it going up here?"

Ziva and McGee exchanged a brief look before McGee replied.

"Oh, eh, fine."

"What was that?" Abby asked suspiciously.

"What?" Ziva asked.

"That look…..there. Something's going on. Don't even try to lie to me, McGee. You know you can't lie to me," she said in a pseudo-threatening fashion.

"It's nothing, Abs. It's just that we haven't heard from Gibbs and Tony in a while, that's all," McGee told her truthfully.

"That's all. That's all?" her voice raising a pitch. "When did you last hear from them?"

"About three hours ago," Ziva told her.

"Three hours, that's not long I guess….. if you're out shopping or on a trip to the zoo, but considering they're out in the woods with a highly trained killing machine on the loose who could easily snap their necks without a second thought, I'd say "yes", McGee, time to worry!" she ranted as she began pacing.

"Okay, I agree. Let's go," Ziva said with determination.

"Let's go? Now?" McGee asked.

"Of course now. You're not afraid of the dark, are you McGee?" Abby asked crossly.

"No! Of course not. It's just….well, it is dark and we don't know where we're going," McGee replied.

"There are night vision goggles down in the lockers in the garage," Abby told them. "We'll be fine."

"We? Eh, you're staying here, Abs," McGee told her.

"But…"

"Like you said, there's a trained killer out there. It's too dangerous," McGee insisted. "And Gibbs would kill me if I let you come."

Abby hated it but knew he was right. She had no choice. Waiting, wondering, praying…story of her life.

Ziva and McGee hurried to their car, making a brief detour via the forensics garage to pick up the night vision goggles and some other equipment they thought might be of use. They had an hour and a half's drive ahead of them, but with Ziva's driving, it would probably only take an hour.

Meanwhile, Tony was trudging through the darkening forest. He was grateful that he had his flashlight and kept it aimed at the ground ahead of him. He knew that if Lewis was out there, he had to make himself as invisible as he could. If he ran into him, Tony knew he was finished….and so was Gibbs. As he trekked, he would pause every so often to check his cell for a signal. He would raise it above his head and wave it around and hope. He cursed each time he was disappointed. Hang on, Boss.

Matt Lewis had watched from the tree-line as the younger of the two strangers exited his cabin. The inappropriately-attired man had disappeared into the trees. He wondered why he had left his pal at the cabin and assumed he was waiting there for him to return. Lewis touched his throbbing shoulder and knew he had to do something about the bleeding. But he had nothing but the clothes he was wearing and his weapon. He had to get back into the cabin and tend to his wound. He was confident he could overpower the other man, despite his injury. He crept silently to the cabin and up onto the veranda. One step creaked as he stood on it and he froze, listening for the occupant to react. He listened for several seconds but heard nothing inside. He continued on and reached the door. It wasn't secured, so he slowly pushed it open and stood back.

He waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness before he inspected the interior. That was when he saw a figure lying on the floor. At first he thought it was a dead body. Only then did he realise that he had in fact hit one of them earlier. He continued towards the body. He noted a blood pool staining the wooden floor a few feet away. As he neared the figure on the floor, he spotted the man's hand resting on a weapon. Slowly he reached down and took it from him. The hand was still warm, he noticed. He held Gibbs' wrist, checking for a pulse and was surprised to find one.

The guy was still alive, which probably meant that the other guy he had seen leaving the cabin had gone to get help. He found Gibbs' wallet and ID. Discovering that he was an NCIS agent, he realised that the authorities were closing in. He had to act fast. There were torn strips of fabric and napkins littering the floor; just what he needed. He walked to the kitchen and found the bottle of disinfectant under the sink where his mom had always kept it. He opened his shirt and poured it over his bullet wound.

"Aaargh!" he cried, but no one heard.

He grabbed onto the kitchen table and waited for the pain to subside. The bullet was still in his shoulder, which meant he would have to get it out himself. He opened the pantry, where he had been hiding earlier. Inside, hanging on a hook, was his sheathed hunting knife. He took it out and poured the disinfectant over it. He returned to the cupboard and took out a bottle of whiskey from the back. Deciding it was best he sit down for the rest, he pulled a chair out from the table and sat. He opened the whiskey and took several large gulps to try and dull the pain. Taking deep breaths to psyche himself up, he then probed his wound with his finger. He found the bullet lodged just beneath his clavicle. Taking the knife in his right hand and biting down on a wooden spoon, he inserted the tip of his hunting knife into the wound. He felt the steel tip scrape off the bullet. As he dug it deeper into his flesh, black spots danced before his eyes. He levered the bullet upwards and out of his shoulder, emitting an agonised cry as he did so. The pain was too much and it overwhelmed him. He passed out and slid off the chair onto the kitchen floor.

In the darkness of the forest, Tony was starting to doubt if he was even going in the right direction. He hoped that he was still on the right trail, but everything looked so different at night. He felt like he had been walking for hours. He was jumping at shadows and flinching at the slightest noise. His heart was pounding. He paused to catch his breath, again checking his cell phone.

And there is was - two bars. The most welcome sight he had ever seen. He had coverage, what a relief! Immediately, he called McGee.

"Tony! Where the hell are you? We were getting worried," McGee asked eagerly, relieved to hear from his colleague.

"It's good to hear your voice, McGee. You need to send help. The boss has been shot. I had to leave him back at the cabin; there was no cell coverage. I had to leave him," Tony repeated breathlessly.

"Woah, slow down, Tony. Are you okay?" McGee asked.

"I'm fine but Gibbs…it's bad, McGee. Just tell them to hurry. I've got to go. I have to get back to him," Tony told him.

"Wait, Tony. We're on our way already. We should be at the end of the track in about fifteen minutes. What about Lewis?" McGee enquired.

"He shot Gibbs. He got away. He's still out here somewhere, so be careful," Tony warned.

"I'll be okay. I have Ziva," McGee told him.

Tony smiled. He knew that Ziva would be more than a match for Lewis. Her Mossad training would stand her in good stead. Tony hung up the phone and doubled back on the track, towards the cabin. All he could think of was his Gibbs. Would he still be alive when he got back? He wasn't sure how he would cope if he got to the cabin and found Gibbs was dead. It didn't bear thinking about. With every step he took, he willed Gibbs to hang on.

to be continued...