"Anything, yet, McGee," Gibbs' voice snapped just as Tim's computer turned up nothing once again.

"Nothing, yet boss. Half the cell towers have been down since last night's storm. I mean, it could take hours…" a withering stare from Gibbs cut McGee off. He could literally feel himself pale as he hurriedly said, "I'll keep trying."

After ten minutes, McGee still had gotten nowhere. Gibbs didn't say anything, but the look on his face told Tim he was contemplating doing something he did not want to do. If Tim was right, and Jethro was thinking what he was thinking, he agreed with Gibbs.

Silently they had decided not to ask Abby for help. There was no point in worrying her if Ziva, Palmer, and Tony had just gotten lost. But Tim knew they weren't lost, Tony would have found a way to get a hold of them if they were. No, something big had happened, his friends were in trouble. And Palmer.

They had to get help from Abby; she'd stop at nothing to find all three. And Tim could use the help even if it was against his, and more importantly Gibbs', better judgment.

"Do you want me…?" he started.

"No, I'll do it," Gibbs responded glancing toward the back elevators. "Just keep looking, Tim."

Tim? Yep, Gibbs was worried and upset. He was using McGee's first name. The last time McGee heard Gibbs use his first name…

He let the thought trail off, pounding away harder at his computer. He had to find them, like now. Because there was no way in hell he was losing them, too. Even Jimmy Palmer. Not like Kate. Or Shepard. Or any of the countless other friends he had lost. And not for something stupid, like letting Jimmy drive. Which probably was what happened.

Or, that's what McGee was trying to convince himself had happened. He just wished he was a bit more convincing…

NICS

Tony woke to a mumbled curse word. His eyes slipped open, Palmer's face swarming around his vision. "Gah!" he exclaimed trying to jolt back. Pain seared his chest and side, his whole body seizing up. The van rocked, more pain spreading through DiNozzo's body, as somebody moved and a familiar voice demanded, "What happened?"

"Tony you need to stay still," Palmer said ignoring the voice, a role of duck tape in his hand.

"Why…?" Tony trailed off, coughing. Each cough hurt his chest, worry pulsing through him. Had he contracted the plague again? Was he dying? No, no, no…

"Hey, you have to calm down," Jimmy said hurriedly his face paler than normal; DiNozzo realized he was breathing way too heavy. He was dizzy and his chest was on fire. "You broke a couple ribs and could puncture a lung."

"What…?" Tony managed to choke out when his coughing died down. There was a metallic taste in the back of his mouth. Oh no, he punctured a lung. He was going to bleed to death with Palmer and a pissed off Ziva. And not to mention Jimmy Palmer. He didn't want the last person he saw to be Jimmy Palmer. He was supposed to be eighty, making it with his twenty-year-old mistress. No, wait…

Great, now that image is stuck in my head.

Somebody smacked him, a sharp pain across his cheek sending him back to reality. He blinked a couple of times, glaring at Jimmy. Palmer quickly raised his hands, shaking his head feverously. Tony let his eyes flick to Ziva, who was now leaning into her seat breathing heavily, her eyes closed.

"Ow, what the hell? Who hits a dying man?" he demanded.

"You are not dying, Tony," Ziva pointed out letting her eyes open again. "Tell him Jimmy."

"As long as you stay calm and don't move around a lot. You should be okay," Palmer responded still clutching the duck tape, looking between Ziva and Tony with uncertainty in his eyes.

"So, I'm not dying?" Tony asked slowly, a wave of relief rushing through him when Jimmy shook his head. It still hurt to breathe, but at least he wasn't dying. Unconsciously he rubbed his chest when he took another deep breath, trying very hard not to wince at the pain.

"What?" worry flickered across Palmer's face, his eyebrows scrunched up.

"Nothing," Tony said quietly dropping his hand to his side. "What's with the tape?" he glanced at the duck tape again.

"Oh, this," Jimmy chuckled once, holding the roll up, "I read somewhere that if tape is used correctly it could help the pain, plus keep you from moving your ribs too much. It's the only thing I can think of until we can get help."

"So, you use duck tape?" Tony asked still looking at the roll.

"It's the only thing I could find," Jimmy answered sheepishly. "According to the, um, website I'm supposed to, uh, use adhesive tape. But there doesn't seem to, uh, be any." He glanced behind him.

"Palmer," Tony said slowly waiting until Jimmy looked at him. "Do what you have to. Then see if the van will start. It's freezing in here." Tony shivered the seconds the words left his mouth, the action pulling on his ribs.

"I, uh, tried," Jimmy said slowly, averting his eyes. "It won't start."

"Fantastic," Tony muttered. He was quiet for a second, looking past Jimmy to stare at Ziva. "How is she?" he nodded toward the ex-Mossad officer whose eyes had closed once more.

Before Palmer could respond Ziva said, "She is sitting right here. Why not ask her yourself?"

Tony sighed and asked, "How are you doing, Ziva?"

"I am fine," she responded but Tony could tell it was a load of bull. She was holding her right arm against her chest, being very careful not to move it. And when she slapped him she had acted as if the simple action had nearly killed her.

"What's wrong with her?" Tony asked letting his eyes shift to Jimmy.

The 'autopsy gremlin' barely looked up from unbuttoning Tony's shirt as he said, "I think she fractured her clavicle. But I can't be sure until we can get it x-rayed."

"Fine my ass," Tony shot toward Ziva. He then said to Jimmy, "Nothing weird, you hear me?" Palmer chuckled nervously, his hands shaking slightly as he started ripping pieces of duck tape from the roll. "This is gonna hurt like a bitch when the tape's removed, isn't it?"

"You are quite hairy, Tony," Ziva commented flashing him an amused look. He merely glared at her.

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Jimmy lied lamely.

"You are an awful liar, Palmer," Tony pointed out wincing when Jimmy's fingers brushed his injured ribs.

"Sorry," Palmer said quickly. He apologized again when he jostled them a second time.

"I…I think you should stick with the dead, Palmer," Tony said after the third time. His ribs, however, were beginning to feel marginally better. And when Jimmy moved back, offering DiNozzo a bottle of Ibuprofen, Tony was actually considering thanking the 'autopsy gremlin.' But before he could open his mouth, Jimmy was already turning to contend to Ziva.

"I am fine," Ziva insisted.

"Ziva, just let him help you," Tony said tiredly.

"But I am…"

"Ziva."

She sighed, or more like growled, and then said, "Fine. But there is little he can do. It is not broken, just sprained. I have had worse."

"I can at least make you a sling," Jimmy suggested quietly. Tony could tell Ziva didn't exactly want the help. Yes, she was trying to break free from her Mossad image, but old habits died hard. Tony knew this for a fact. He lived by that half the time, too.

He coughed again, enough to make his chest hurt, the metallic taste back. Except, this time, he could taste it on his lips. He put his fingertips to his lips, pulling them away. He glanced at the tips, scarlet catching his attention. Shit…

NCIS

I looked up treatment for fractured ribs, so what Jimmy did is on the internet. I'd give you the link, but I'm lazy.

Anyway, thanks for reading. Benny and I appreciated all the reviews, alerts, and the support last chapter. And leave a comment if you can.

Bye...