I do not own NCIS; no infringement is intended.
Due to a bit of poor planning on my part, we're going to take a little jump back in time. I hope that's all right.
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The world was shaking. The floor came up to meet him. He felt himself crashing into the elevator walls and then the floor. He felt Ziva's body land on him. He tried to grab her and keep her from flying. His mind went blank. All he could think about was holding on. And then it stopped.
The elevator stopped swinging. He could feel adrenaline pulsing through his body. The metal box holding them was dark but it had stopped shuddering. He spent a minute trying to catch his breath and evaluate. The bomb must have detonated. They were in an elevator. Big mistake. Who knows how long they would be holed up waiting to be rescued.
He realized that Ziva was still laying on him. She hadn't moved. Shouldn't she be going all Ninja and busting them out? Slowly he shifted out from under her. He got himself sitting up and turned to where she lay. "Ziva?" He prodded at her. Never wake the sleeping assassin. That was a good rule to live by, he had depended on that one often enough. Why was there not a gun pointing in his face? He should have found himself staring down her Sig the second he touched her. Instead there was no movement, no hint of recognition. This was bad.
He'd been wasting time. If she was hurt, he should be doing everything he could to find a way out. To get her help. He pulled out his cell phone to aid in the illumination of the dark box. There was no signal. It just kept getting better. He lifted the pieces of ceiling tile and various debris off of her, throwing them aside. He was trying to be careful. He wasn't good at careful. He was more along the lines of the bull in the china shop. How long had they been trapped? Would anyone have noticed they were gone yet? "Zee?" Still nothing. Bad. Bad. Bad. There didn't appear to be anything he could do. There was no massive bleeding to stop, no bones visible.
Was she breathing? Yes, okay, that was good. Gibbs would know they were missing. He's gut would tell him. That superpower had never let them down yet. But Gibbs had gone with Cole to play hero with the bomb. What if... No, Gibbs had been almost blown up too many times for a bomb to be what finally did him in. Inventory: he was stuck in a non-functional elevator, post bomb blast, with hurt Ziva, no immediate plan for rescue, no idea what was happening outside their box. It could be armageddon for all he knew.
He checked the time. He did not like being the only conscious person. It was time for Ziva to come around. She should have long before this. Ziva should have leapt off of him and started ranting about the absurdity that they were stuck, she would have twisted everything into being all his fault. She should be threatening his life right now, not making him wonder about the current length of her's. Tony needed that to happen.
He pawed at her again. This time she reacted: scrunched up her eyes. That was good. He kept prodding at her. After several repeats of this behavior she started muttering. He really should have learned Hebrew by now. She cursed him in it often enough, it would be helpful to know what she was saying, especially now. Hindsight really was 20/20. Another few seconds and she was out again. Oh well. It had been nice while it lasted. It was back to sitting quietly. He shifted a little closer to her.
How long had it been now? His phone said another eight minutes had passed. Could it be trusted? It felt like so much longer. He had to do something. It was time to start yelling. More minutes ticked by. He was worried. Yelling was getting him nowhere. Nobody else was probably anywhere near the building. Still, somebody would have to sweep the building eventually. There was still a building right? They weren't just hanging in midair. One more glance at Ziva and he started yelling again. He couldn't take doing nothing. This time was different. This time it worked. He must have invoked some bat signal because he got not only somebody's attention, he got Gibbs.
Hearing the muffled voice of the boss changed everything. Relief. Gibbs would save them. He knew it would take more then a bomb to stop Gibbs. He managed to get out that Ziva was hurt. Not having to be totally responsible for himself and Ziva was a blessing and a curse. He didn't know what to do, Gibbs would have answers: the blessing. He wasn't responsible anymore, he could freak out a little: the curse. He answered Gibbs questions. learned Abby was safe. Ziva still wasn't.
Gibbs was telling him about their rescue. Apparently it involved heavy machinery. His mind was going a little funny. Gibbs was leaving them again. Back to his private thinking. Did muttering in Hebrew count as talking? Well sort of. She could have been saying "Die, Tony, Die" for all he knew. He should have pushed English more. They both knew Spanish. That would work too. He spent the remainder of their time in the box prodding her in both English and Spanish accompanied by a musical ambiance of metal saws. He even threw in a Shalom. He didn't like seeing Ziva unresponsive. Brought back memories of other things: of Somalia Ziva and of dead Kate. It was terrifying.
They doors were finally pulled apart, the floor was equal to his chest, and emergency personnel were asking him to hand them Ziva. He didn't even realize he was practically holding her. When had that happened? He also found that he didn't want to let her go. There was a dreadful feeling creeping up inside that he'd never see her again. Gibbs came back. He told him he did good. Gibbs wouldn't let them hurt her or take her away. She did need help. Even though he felt like it might turn out to be the biggest mistake of his life; he let her go.
Gibbs held out his hand for Tony to grab. He made it out of the elevator and onto the floor of what had once been the bullpen. He was already looking around for Ziva. They were putting her on a stretcher. He vaguely saw Gibbs go and collect Abby. That wasn't her blood, was it? She had a wild dead look in her eyes. Gibbs coaxed her back over to Tony. The boss grabbed one of his arms and they followed Ziva. Out of the building, the wreckage and the box. He wondered where Mcgee was, why he wasn't waiting for them, ensuring their rescue. He followed Ziva. It was what made sense. When things got messy he could usually follow Ziva out. He didn't stop following her until they were in the ambulance. Abby and Gibbs joined them.
The medics were working on his partner. One of them came to do a once over of the other passengers. Nothing that needed to be dealt with immediately. He found himself asking Gibbs if he'd heard from Mcgee, surely Mcsafety would have been running for the hills after hearing about a live bomb. Maybe he shouldn't have said that out loud. He didn't really mean it the way it had sounded.
Abby had started screeching about Mcgee and dead and blood in a frantic jumble that he couldn't really understand. Once her outburst had escalated to the point her words were no longer understandable and wasn't really breathing anymore the paramedics had stepped in. Whatever was in her head must have been pretty desperate for her to agree. He knew that she hated meds, didn't like the fog she could never seem to come out of. She wouldn't even take Tylenol. Day kept getting weirder.
After Abby had curled up against Gibbs, no longer on the verge of hysteria, his focus went to trying to figure out what they were doing to Ziva. He couldn't tell much, didn't understand what they were saying. Not that he would have known what any of it really indicated. Eventually, when he deemed it safe to ask, he looked towards Gibbs.
Tony needed to know, but he was scared to ask. The Probie could not be dead. In what he hoped was a voice that sounded more confident than he felt he asked where Mcgee was. By Abby's reaction he would have bet that he was no longer among the living. Gibbs met his eyes and told him Mcgee was alive, Abby had found him and Gibbs had seen him. He had been sent on ahead. Tony didn't have a response. Alive was good. Ziva had moved on to something that might have been a mixture of Arabic and German. He couldn't understand a word of it but it was something.
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