Thank you so much to everyone who has supported this adventure and let us know how much enjoyment you're finding in it! We're having just as much fun.

Happy Tibbs...

Gibbs…

Tony tried hard to listen for any break in the static over the animated chatter of the building's basement-displaced tenants as he slowly turned the tuner on his portable radio. So far all he had been able to hear down in the bowels of the basement was the same monotone automatic warning that had been on a constant loop upstairs which told them the various dangers that might well be ravaging the world above-ground but nothing more.

All told, he estimated that there were close to 50 people huddled in the dark corridor between assigned storage spaces and waiting out the storm. Occasionally, the beam of a flashlight blinded him momentarily or an unknown someone brushed against him, causing him to pause in his search. Acutely aware that all eyes were on him now, he tried to tune out the nervous mutterings around him.

Once his final little group had arrived in the basement to join those already gathered and after he'd managed to pry her strangling arms from around his neck, Tony had used his first aid kit to patch up the young woman from the street. She spoke fractured English but was able to communicate that her name was Chen and she lived with her family in an apartment a few blocks away. The wound to her temple was quite a gash and she was likely going to need stitches when everything was over but at least she was conscious. When she had calmed enough he'd deposited her into the hands of the only other person in the room that looked to be of Asian descent-an older man who said he lived on the 3rd floor and still seemed a bit dazed- with a few instructions and hoped for the best.

People kept asking him things like, 'When will it be safe?' and, 'When will the power come back on?' and, 'Do you think they'll reschedule tonight's 'American Idol' because of the storm?' as if he suddenly had the answers to everything simply because he knew how to keep a cool head in a crisis.

He was probably going to have to move after this.

"Are you a cop?" A not-wholly unpleasant voice came at Tony out of the darkness and a bright beam shone in his eyes until he put his hand up with an annoyed look on his face.

"Kind of." He wasn't in the mood for long explanations right now and he had almost run out of room on the radio's dial.

"How do you get to be 'kind of' a cop?" annoyingly-curious guy persisted.

"Used to be a cop. A detective, actually." Tony couldn't say why he felt the need to add that last part. "Now I'm a Federal Investigator with NCIS." Perhaps that would shut him up.

"NCI what?"

Apparently not, although somehow his congenial inquisitor made the question sound a bit less offensive than it usually did. "I investigate crimes that involve US Navy or Marine personnel and terrorist activities that target our armed forces at home and abroad," he recited with just a touch of irritation, giving up and turning the radio back to the drone of the weather warning.

"Sounds like quite a job." The words came with a note of, what sounded like, slightly awed respect as well as intrigued curiosity.

"It has its moments." Tony gave a frustrated sigh and finally stood to look eye to eye at his interrogator in the dim light. The man, perhaps a few years older than him, looked like he might very well be the type of guy who spent considerable time in a laboratory or behind a computer terminal somewhere. He wasn't bad looking, was maybe even quietly sexy in an utterly geeky way, but with shrewd eyes that weighed and assessed everything around him. Tony was struck by the laughable thought that this guy might be the unholy result of a McGee/ Gibbs love child. "I'm Tony," he offered reluctantly, unable to think of another way to move on.

"Brian," the other man acknowledged with a nod of his head. "I'm in 522. Don't think I've seen you around the building before." He flashed a brilliant smile.

The statement had the feel of the most awkward bar pick up line Tony'd ever heard. Holy fuck, the guy was actually hitting on him. "I'm not home much," Tony answered absently, only giving half of his attention to the interaction at hand. His head was most definitely somewhere else.

"Me either," Brian continued, obviously undeterred by Tony's scattered interest. "Mostly nights. But it's just me so, you know, no one to answer to if things run late at the office." He hadn't even tried to hide the implication in that little piece of information.

Tony had to hand it to the guy, he wasn't shy. He realized that not too long ago, under different circumstances, he might have tried to take advantage of the situation himself, but right now his brain and his gut were tied up with only one thought. "Excuse me for a second?" It wasn't exactly a shut-down, but it was clear his would-be suitor didn't quite know how to take his response so he proceeded without waiting for one in return.

He moved to the end of the dark hallway where a small window allowed a rather obscured view up through a set of bars. There wasn't much to see. A steady stream of water was flowing down the sides of the hollowed out space around the window and the small patch of sky above was still ominously dark, but at least it looked as if the hail had stopped. A flash of lightning made him draw back suddenly and rub his eyes against the unexpected brightness of it. Taking a few steps away from the wall, Tony flipped open his cell. He'd tried to call Gibbs the first second he'd gotten a free moment down here but the signal was patchy and he wasn't able to find a place strong enough for a call to go out. Next to the window, he had one bar so he decided to chance it and hurriedly pressed Jethro's speed dial code. Almost immediately a rapid busy signal sounded in his ear and he flipped the phone shut with a sigh. If the storm was that bad, it was likely that it could have taken a few cell towers off line and that the others were overloaded. Tony'd seen a number of his fellow refugees walking around in circles with their phones raised over their heads trying to get through with no success. Flipping his phone open again, he checked his battery. He was still at 85% and was thankful that he'd charged it before leaving work. Probably best to save it until he was more certain of a good connection.

When he returned to the radio, he found that many of his fellow tenants had huddled around it and seemed to be listening intently. It took him a few seconds to realize that the repeated message had stopped and a live reporter was speaking. Joining the throng, he strained to hear the staticy update, trying desperately to ignore the churning in his gut that was bothering him much more than it should be even over a storm this severe. The next 15 minutes or so held tentative reports of at least three tornadoes moving through the DC area leaving parts of the city heavily damaged. All around him people gasped and muttered to each other, but his ears stayed trained on the voice of the reporter. According to early information, which he knew could be either a drastic over or underestimation, several area roads were considered impassible due to flooding, hail had caused damage to windows, cars, roofs, and trees, and devastating structural damage to entire neighborhoods was being phoned in by observers. The list of reports was long but at the news of extensive destruction across a wide area north of the beltway in Alexandria, his heart jumped into his throat as his worst fears were suddenly realized. "I need to go," Tony whispered to no one in particular, staring into the dim light toward the source of sound.

He couldn't shake it, the sudden feeling, the need to flee, to get to wherever Jethro was. Flipping open his cell he moved back to the window and tried Gibbs' number again, getting the same frustrating signal. Tony realized his hand was shaking now as adrenaline flooded his system. Tornadoes he could handle but not the thought of something happening to Jethro. Goddamn it, Gibbs, do not be at home tonight. The words kept whispering like a silent prayer inside his head.

But Tony somehow knew he would be.

At the very least he could content himself with the thought that the older man was likely already in his basement when the storm hit but for some reason even that likelihood wasn't slowing his heart rate or the pounding of blood in his ears. Tony pressed the next number on his speed dial, really just randomly seeing if he could get a connection, and was surprised when it began to ring.

"McGee." Tim's voice was clear in his ear, though the younger man sounded tense.

"McGee!" Tony nearly shouted into the receiver, "Where the hell are you?"

"Still at NCIS. I was helping Abby with something and then the storm started and…"

Tony cut him off. "Please tell me Gibbs is still there somewhere." He didn't like the sound of desperation in his own voice but there was nothing to be done about it now.

"He left just after you did. Didn't look particularly happy either. What, you mean you haven't heard from him yet?"

"No, Tim. I haven't heard from him yet," he snapped before he could catch himself. "He hasn't called you or Abby?"

"No. Nothing. Ziva called in just before you did and she didn't mention hearing from him either. You don't think something's wrong, do you?" Tim sounded alarmed now as well.

He could hear the younger agent trying to keep Abby at bay in the background. "Don't know, Probie, but it sounds like his area was hit pretty hard. I just…I don't like the feel of this. I'm heading over there," Tony said resolutely.

"Tony, that's miles away from you. Haven't you heard about the roads out there? No one's getting anywhere right now. They want everyone off the streets so emergency vehicles can get through but I guess a lot of people are stranded in their cars because of flooded roads, downed trees and power lines, and traffic lights that are out. They're having a hard time getting rescue crews in to the worst hit areas and…"

"Unless I hear from him or get through to him in the next five minutes, I'm going to find him. You know he'd do the same for one of us if his gut told him to and mine's halfway out the door already." Tony glanced past the crowd behind him toward the elevator and stairwell.

"Just be careful. And don't do anything stupid. It's gonna be dark soon." Tim warned.

"Keep your phone on, McGee. And if you hear anything at all from Gibbs, call me." He flipped the phone shut and pushed his way through the group of tenants to begin gathering up his things from where he'd left them with his radio.

Gibbs…

"You're leaving?" His new curious friend suddenly appeared at his shoulder.

"Got a friend in Alexandria. Can't get him on the phone." He shoved his first aid kit into his backpack. "Besides, the worst of the storm is over now. It's safe to go back upstairs." As soon as he said the words he felt a wave of relief flutter around the room as those around him took his words for gospel.

"I can't believe you're thinking about going out in this. Didn't you hear what they said about the roads?" His new friend actually sounded just as concerned as McGee had which he thought unusual for a relative stranger.

"Don't have a choice. I'll drive as far as I can and then jog the rest of the way if I have to." Tony really hadn't thought too far past getting on the road to Gibbs' place. He'd never clocked it but he didn't think it could be more than 7 or 8 miles from Georgetown if he took the most direct route. He could run that if need be. Hell, for Gibbs he could run 20.

"That must be some friend," Brian said speculatively.

"Not just a friend, he's my boss. And he wouldn't think twice about going out in this if he was worried about me. Hell, he'd have left a half hour ago." As the words came out Tony felt the truth of them and something more besides.

Brian remained silent for a moment, watched Tony cram the last of his things into his pack. He seemed to be mulling something over. "I've got a scooter," Brian said, finally, "if you want to borrow it, that is. It's nothing fancy but I use it to commute back and forth in the summers. Should help you get around traffic anyway. Might get you further than your car," Brian offered.

Tony turned to look at the other man in the dim light, a ray of hope breaking through the darkness gathering around his heart for just one moment. "I owe you, big time," Tony said sincerely, reaching for his hand.

"Have dinner with me some night and thank me," Brian flashed a grin and Tony realized he wasn't just geeky handsome, he was handsome in that incredibly unnerving Clark Kent kind of way, the kind of way where devastatingly sexy lived right beneath the surface of unassuming and slightly awkward, dwelling unnoticed until it suddenly removed it's nerdy glasses and started sucking your cock. "Unless this boss-friend of yours has an objection to you having dinner with someone?" He raised an eyebrow.

"I doubt he will." Tony shook his head. It was hard to keep the disappointment out of his voice even now. "But either way, sounds like a fair trade. I promise to bring it back." They started up the stairs together. Tony was a little unnerved to realize that under different circumstances he might actually be damn flattered by Brian's obvious intentions.

"Hey, it's not like I don't know where you live," Brian said as they made it to the lobby. "Just let me go upstairs and grab the keys."

The few minutes it took for Brian to run up five floors and back down again felt like hours to Tony. He surveyed the damage outside which didn't seem too horrific at first glance. A large puddle of water had been blown into the foyer area of the lobby where it was now unprotected by its broken door but it was nothing a mop and a broom wouldn't put right pretty quickly. In the street, things were a little worse but still manageable, at least here. The temperature had dropped noticeably and the heavy, moist air he'd noticed earlier had dissipated. The sky was still grey and a light misty rain was falling, but the clouds looked much less ominous, and he suspected part of the darkness was now due to the hour. Thunder still rumbled in the distance and the wail of sirens-ambulances and police cars this time- seemed to assault him from every side. There were tree limbs down in several areas of the few blocks he could see, some in the streets and some covering the sidewalk. Torn awnings flapped in the breeze in front of more than a few buildings, and the litter of shredded leaves was everywhere as a result of the hail. Car alarms wailed at him from seemingly every direction but only a few cars crept cautiously down the road, their drivers dodging debris and generally gawking at the damage.

Now that Tony was outside, he tried Gibbs' phone one last time and almost jumped out of his skin when it started to ring, but by the fourth ring he began to lose heart with every tone. Finally, he was flipped over to voicemail-a voicemail the older man had never bothered setting up-and Tony closed his cell yet again, somehow feeling an even greater sense of urgency to get on his way as soon as possible. It was one thing if his phone wouldn't let a call go through, to think that maybe Gibbs was trying just as desperately to reach him, but now that he'd made a connection and Gibbs wouldn't-his brain refused to do more that flutter fleetingly up against the word couldn't-answer, Tony was ready to start running. A gentle hand on his shoulder made him jump and brought him out of his head with a start.

"Hey," Brian said as Tony turned around quickly and pulled out of his grasp. He dangled the keys in front of the somewhat wild-eyed other man who snatched them hurriedly.

"Thanks again. I'll try to bring it back in one piece." DiNozzo didn't want to seem ungrateful for a favor he had not yet earned the right to so he forced his feet to stay on the pavement for just a minute longer.

"You'd better or you're going to owe me a hell of a lot more than a dinner date," Brian laughed before turning more serious again. "It's in spot number 37 in the garage. Helmet's on the back. I know we don't really know each other but I don't suppose I can talk you out of going out in this, huh? I've got a pretty expensive bottle of wine upstairs that I've been dying for an excuse to open," he said hopefully.

Tony shook his head firmly. "Not a chance in hell."

"Well then, I sure hope this boss of yours knows what a good guy he's got, but here's my card anyway." He handed Tony the expensive-feeling bit of card stock.

"If he does, I haven't heard much about it. Then again, he's not exactly the talkative type." The proffered card made him stop mid-turn and he took it quickly, glancing at the neatly printed name and credentials as well as the hand-written number across the top.

"That's too bad." For some reason Brian didn't sound completely disappointed. "Guy like you…well, let's just say it's too bad your boss can't really see what he's missing."

"You're a doctor?" Tony looked up at the other man as the title below his name caught his eye. "Shouldn't you be, I don't know, doctoring or something? Must be a lot of hurt people out there."

"Not a lot of call for Pathology in an emergency like this. I spend most of my day looking at slides rather than people." He shrugged dismissively.

Tony had absolutely no response to that statement but it didn't matter because his feet were itching to move. "Listen, I don't mean to seem ungrateful or anything else you might think of me right now but…"

"You need to go," the other man finished with a knowing nod. "Go. And…be careful. You're the only neighbor I ever had even half an interest in getting to know and I wouldn't want to miss out on that dinner."

Once again unable to think of a fitting answer, Tony swung his go-bag onto his back and trotted off for the side of the building and the entrance to its underground garage without another word. He found the bike without incident and was soon on his way.

Tony hadn't really counted on spending the first few blocks with the scooter simply struggling to get the feel of being on two wheels again. It wasn't exactly like remembering how to ride a bike but after a few turns and a panicky moment of praying to every God he knew that one of the silver things beneath his fingertips was indeed a brake, he felt like he had a decent handle on it and chanced a little more speed.

The twilight closing in around him seemed unnatural, like he was seeing an entirely different spectrum of light than he was used to. Maybe it was the last rays of dark golden sunlight emerging below purple clouds, or maybe it was just the blood pounding behind his eyes but he didn't think he was imagining it. He needed to get out of his head, needed to concentrate and focus on the road in front of him, the road that seemed riddled with a million impossibilities, rising up like quicksand to grab at his tires and hold him back from reaching Jethro.

One mile, two miles…

Gibbs, Gibbs…

The thump of pavement beneath the wheels seemed to echo the adrenaline-fueled throbbing of his pulse or maybe it was the other way around. Either way, the odometer kept turning and every new little number meant he was that much closer-closer to what? His mind refused to go there.

The first couple miles of Tony's journey were relatively easy. He dodged traffic up the center line or on sidewalks, prepared to flash his creds and claim an emergency if by chance one of the District's finest happened to take an interest in him, but he was betting on the fact that every able body had far more pressing matters to attend to tonight than one guy on a scooter violating a few dozen traffic laws. Occasionally he had to slow for tree limbs or broken glass in his path but was truly surprised that he met no real impediments to his steady progress across town. His ride across the Key Bridge was a little slower than he would have liked, the traffic there bumper to bumper and dead stopped with many drivers out of their cars and trying to get a glimpse up the road. Once across, he tried to stick to side streets or even alleys and avoid large intersections. He made sure to stay to high ground, bypassing roads he knew might be quicker but prone to flooding.

Three miles, four miles, five…

Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs…

He used the access road around Arlington Cemetery, headed south on the 395 service drive past the Army-Navy club to give Reagan airport a wide berth. The endless line of cars below him didn't seem to be getting anywhere in a hurry and he was feeling pretty good about his choices so far as he made decent time considering the snail-paced world around him.

As Tony rode, he took stock of the neighborhoods, businesses, and parks that he passed in the fast-dwindling light. The damage was wide spread, certainly, but so far he had seen nothing he would term 'catastrophic'. In some parks and open spaces where the wind had been allowed free reign he saw the outlines of overturned trees, their immense root clusters looking odd and alien in the dim light. Every so often he came on downed power lines sparking menacingly off to one side or the other and even a few poles that looked as if a giant had snapped them off midway up like a toothpick. At one intersection a string of traffic lights had come down and scattered red, green, and yellow shards among the cars stranded there. He skirted this carefully, silently blessed his new friend as the scooter wove easily around the mess where one full sized car at a time barely fit. But overall, the areas around him seemed curiously devoid of people so in general he paid them little mind. He became ever more hopeful as the pavement passed beneath him and the odometer spun slowly.

Six miles…seven…

Gibbs….oh God, Gibbs…

Tony was forced to slow up a few blocks from where he usually turned to head east through the surrounding neighborhoods to get to Gibbs' place when he came by this route. Here, the damage was unquestionably greater. Piles of debris littering the road were marked off with glowing flares and he saw the unmistakable pulsing lights of emergency vehicles ahead. On every corner, people milled around in scattered and disjointed groups. Some clutched at each other like small, frightened children while others turned flat and lost eyes on him as he passed. He knew the signs of shock when he saw them, recognized the empty gazes and aimless movements, and it made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end at the same time it forced his heart into this throat.

He moved at a snail's pace around the detritus of the storm's wake and tried to stick to the parts of the road that were clearest. At the next intersection, a convenience store stood heavily damaged, its roof sloping off at an odd angle and its ice bin tossed halfway into the street, spilling the partly-melted bags of its innards into the gutter. Shattered glass glittered at him everywhere in the path of the bike's head lamp and Tony was finally forced to take to his feet and push, knowing that without these two wheels he never could have come so far so fast. In a car he'd surely have been gridlocked a mile from his apartment. On his feet he'd still be running. No matter what happened now, at least he could be grateful for that.

The road ahead was completely cordoned off by emergency vehicles about a block from the street that would take him to Jethro's. With a deep sigh of regret, he found a minimally cluttered space between two vehicles that had sustained heavy hail damage and abandoned the scooter, knowing he would get no further on it tonight. With any luck it would be there when this mess was over with but if it wasn't, well, his pocket book would be a bit lighter, and it was a price he was willing to pay.

Amidst the flashing lights, Tony could pick out at least three fire trucks, a few vans marked with search and rescue insignia, half a dozen ambulances, and a few black and whites from the Metro PD. In the distance he could hear chainsaws, and nearer, the squall of an infant above the buzz of hushed voices and the chatter of radios as teams communicated back and forth.

No one stopped him at the first barrier. Tony knew how to put on an air of authority when necessary and right now he was on a mission he wasn't about to be deterred from. He looked confident, he looked like he belonged, he looked like a man you didn't want to fuck with.

The fact that he was wearing his NCIS slicker probably didn't hurt.

Past the rescue engine blocking the road, Tony found paramedic crews triaging the injured. Mostly he saw glazed-eyed victims with cuts and gashes, a few who looked like they had potentially broken limbs or dislocated joints, but there didn't seem to be any body bags. He wanted desperately to believe that was a good sign.

Tony'd made it as far as the entrance to Jethro's street, barely recognizable among the debris of overturned trees and scattered rubble, before someone finally decided to question his presence at the scene.

"Unless you're injured or need help, all non-official personnel need to stay behind the barriers, sir." A distinctly unsympathetic voice called out to him from a few feet away.

Schooling his features and recognizing the tone of a small man who has been given a big job, Tony turned and glared menacingly. "Who's in charge here?" he demanded flatly, sizing up the man approaching him in a Metro PD uniform.

"That would be me for the moment. Are you a resident? If you're looking for someone we've got a guy taking names back there." He gestured back in the direction Tony had come from. "Otherwise, you'll need to wait behind the barrier."

"I'm a Federal Agent. Got one of our best men a few blocks in on Laurel and no one can get him on the phone. Director sent me to bring him in." He flashed his badge as he gave his story, not even caring that it was only half-true. There was no doubt in his mind that if Vance knew about Gibbs' MIA status he would have ordered someone into the fray.

The officer squared his shoulders. "I'm under strict orders not to let anyone into this zone unless they are official rescue personnel. You can wait for your friend but right now we're going house to house and it's a damn mess. Might be awhile before we get that far in so I'm going to have to insist you wait behind the barrier where you're out from under foot."

Tony felt the corner of his mouth twitch in amusement. This was a simple game of who had the bigger cock and there was no doubt in his mind that he would come out on top without too much effort. Rather than backing down as the officer clearly hoped he would, he took a step forward, leaning in ominously. "And I'm under orders from the director of a Federal Agency who, I'm pretty sure, trumps whatever desk jockey is giving you your directives regarding this scene." He took another step, noticing that his challenger was leaning back on his heels ever so slightly now. "So if you want to stop me from doing what I was sent here to do you've got two choices, handcuff me, or shoot me." Tony ticked these off on his fingers without looking down as he moved closer. "And then someone with a hell of a lot more seniority than you is going to have a really bad day explaining to the Director of NCIS and the Secretary of the Navy why the Metro PD interfered with the operations of their Agency."

His last step finally forced his adversary backwards, though the harried officer moved quickly to cover his unconscious retreat. "I won't be responsible for…"

"I'm sure you won't," Tony sneered, relaxing his posture a little. "Now, unless you've got something helpful for me, I assume you're done wasting my time." He didn't wait for an answer as he turned to go, picking a route to the right side of what remained of the street and leaving the sputtering and fuming officer in his wake.

Tony hadn't gone 200 feet down Jethro's street before he was stopped in his tracks by the overwhelming enormity of what he was walking into. He let out a breathy and involuntary curse as the thick, penetrating beam of his flashlight lit on the devastation around him.

Bombs. He'd seen bombs cause less damage than this. The thing about a bomb is that there is an order to its destruction, a central detonation point, a blast radius, simple as that. Sure there are variations depending on the size and type of the device, what you put in its way, but in the end there is a general predictability about what it will leave behind. This…this was chaos defined and the disorientation Tony felt was very nearly instantaneous and absolute.

He had to believe he was still on the outside edge of the tornado's damage path and yet everywhere he looked there was evidence of its passing. A few homes to his right looked nearly untouched-though he guessed in the daylight the story might be a bit different-while others had sustained tremendous damage. He could see large red X's on the doors of each home indicating that they had been checked and cleared. In his path and in the street, huge old elms and maples had been overturned and thrown about like match sticks. Other trees were broken off abruptly a few feet up their massive trunks or split down the center like they had been hacked by the largest axe ever created. Glass and other things he didn't want to think about crunched beneath his boots at every step. And those were the normal things.

High up in the branches of an oddly denuded tree his flashlight shone on the white enameled cube of what could only be a washing machine no matter how insane the notion of its presence might be. On the otherwise clean-swept front lawn of a two story home the mangled remains of a child's swing set looked alien and somehow haunting. Everywhere he looked, pieces of paper, books, magazines, clothing, toys, the tattered and torn remnants of dozens, perhaps hundreds of lives, created an otherworldly landscape.

Focus.

Tony needed to focus. Focus meant breathing which he suddenly realized he wasn't doing much of. Now he filled his lungs until they burned and exhaled the thought that was slowly eating him alive from the inside.

Gibbs…

That single thought swept through him, uprooted his feet from the ground and brought him back down to earth all at the same time. He became aware again of the busy sound of chainsaws not far ahead, of voices shouting instructions. Somehow the sounds were comforting. Even though he knew he was a block or two from dozens of people they suddenly seemed a million miles away and the only things that existed were those standing between him and Gibbs. There was this part of him, the part he was hanging onto with every step, that hoped, that believed, he would find Jethro somewhere along the way, pitching in, saving lives, being the man that he had to be. Tony smiled at the thought as he carefully skirted a pile of bricks that had formerly belonged to a modest turn of the century home.

Tony tackled one obstacle at a time until the voices got closer, until the purr of a generator reached his ears and the glow of a halogen lamp penetrated the darkness of the street. He found a man in search and rescue gear refueling a chainsaw in the pool of light and approached. "Hey," he called out as he shielded his eyes.

The man squatting down in front of him looked confused until Tony emerged fully from the shadows. "You need help? Thought we cleared all the houses back there already?"

"Looking for someone." He flashed his creds to give himself a bit more of a leg to stand on.

"Not exactly the place for a manhunt tonight." The man screwed the gas cap back on tightly and wiped his hands on his pants.

Tony shook his head. "Looking for my boss. He lives a couple blocks further in and no one can get him on the phone. If he's okay," he swallowed the word-oh fuck, let him be okay-"If he's okay he'd most likely be here lending a hand somewhere. 'Bout 6 foot? Silver hair? Walks and talks like a Marine?" Tony asked hopefully.

"Man of few words, huh? I don't have anyone in this group but we're all fanned out. Let me check with the other teams. What's your guy's name?" He pulled a radio out of his belt.

"Gibbs." Tony realized he had responded a little too hopefully. This little bit of human interaction in an otherwise alien world was more comforting than he would have imagined, and he suddenly didn't feel so alone in his fight.

"Anyone out there got a local by the name of Gibbs working with them? He's a Fed." He released the microphone button and waited.

Seconds passed but to Tony it felt like minutes before anyone responded. When they did it was all in the negative and his heart fell a bit more with every crackling answer.

"Sorry, doesn't sound like he's here. Where did you say he was at again?"

"About two blocks further east. I think." Tony took a moment to examine their surroundings for anything familiar and realized they were in the middle of an intersection. Only a few feet of curb was visible as an identifier.

The rescue worker nodded. "Haven't been in that far yet but it's pretty close to the direct path. Lot of damage, got people trapped beneath debris or worse." He looked like he suddenly realized this wasn't the news Tony was looking to hear and moved on. "There are more teams working in from the other side and on other streets but we just don't have enough bodies to move faster. Could use a couple more men who knew what the hell they were doing."

"Understood. If I can come back, I will," Tony promised sincerely.

"You got a radio? Think I have an extra." He walked over to a small pile of equipment, retrieved an identical looking walkie to the one held in his other hand, and handed it to Tony. "We're on channel 7. Don't know how much juice this one's got left but it's better than nothing."

"Appreciate it." Tony tucked the hand-held device into his pocket and hesitated on the point of turning away, finally working up the courage to ask the question that had been burning on his tongue. "How bad?" he asked somberly.

The rescue worker contemplated Tony for a moment before answering. "Bad," he said simply, an unmistakable note of sympathy lingering on the single syllable.

Digging in despite his churning gut, DiNozzo fought down the bitter mix of bile and adrenaline that rose in his throat, found his reserves, and hiked his bag a little higher on his shoulders. "Thanks." They both knew for what.

"Hope you find him."

"I will."

One way or another, he would.

**Almost forgot to note this...I did the best I could in plotting Tony a route from someplace in the Georgetown area to Southern Alexandria. Since we have an address for Gibbs which doesn't actually EXIST in Alexandria, I placed him in a warren of neighborhoods north of the Beltway that I thought would fit. If you actually LIVE in the DC or surrounding areas, please suspend disbelief and don't get too picky about the route. I was working with what I had!

Thanks for reading!