Disclaimer: Nope. Don't own anything.
*~*~*
Be, be strong
Keep telling myself it that won't take long till
I'm free of my disease
Yeah well free of my disease
Free of my disease.
Disease – matchbox twenty
*~*~*
Tony stared at the clock, waiting. One more hour, he told himself, one more hour and he could leave the city. With shaking hands, he picked up the surgical mask, mandatory for anyone who wanted to leave, and put it on. His hands were still blistered, and they looked like they would scar. But scars were better than dying.
He walked into the kitchen, to his refrigerator, and pulled out bottled water, wincing when the plastic touched the raw skin on his hands. The water supply was probably contaminated, and he wasn't going to boil any water just to get a drink.
The water was cold, and it woke him up. His throat ached from the lack of water, and in seconds he drank the entire bottle.
Placing the now-empty bottle down with shaking hands, he took one more look at his reflection in the stainless steel refrigerator. His face was still pallid, but better than it had been.
He could finally see Ziva again.
Shaking, he put the surgical mask on and made his way downstairs, weakly, and straight to his car. Tony was unsure if he would be able to drive in his condition, but he was not going to stay in the death trap that D.C. had turned into.
The car's engine turned on quickly and he slammed the door, rolling up the windows and turning the AC on its lowest setting.
"I'll find you, Ziva." He whispered, his voice hoarse.
*~*~*
Ziva stared out the hotel window at the darkening sky, watching as the clouds lost their color and the city lit up like fireworks, illuminating the horizon. Even at the prospect of the apocalypse, there were still gamblers.
The others watched her from across the room, concerned. She had barely moved all day, and the fact that she hadn't eaten or drank anything since the phone call was concerning them even more.
Ziva was a patient person. She could wait until later to eat. There were more important subjects on her mind.
The AC hummed to life outside, filling the room with warm air. The room's occupants shuddered, having gotten used to the 100° temperature inside the hotel. A subconscious fear that the virus could get inside the room came to life. Abby stood up and walked towards the radiator, then turned it off. In moments, the room returned to the boiling temperature it had been all day.
*~*~*
Tony drove past miles of desert, staring at the faint light on the horizon that he knew was the city of Las Vegas. He knew that was where Ziva was.
Sometimes apologies were a sign of strength, not of weakness.
*~*~*
In an airtight steel bunker, somewhere in Atlanta, the men in the biohazard suits worked frantically to identify the disease that was killing the entire world.
And then, in a moment of curiosity, one of the men put the slide back under the microscope, looking at it one more time.
"Yersinia pestis." The man stated calmly. "Septicemic."
"That explains it all, doesn't it?" Another man asked, equally calm. The first man nodded. "But how are we going to tell the entire world that there's been an outbreak of the plague?"
"Carefully. Very carefully."
*~*~*
Gibbs turned on the television and switched it to the news station, looking once more at Ziva, concerned.
*~*~*
The blonde, 40-something news reporter stared at the teleprompter in surprise, but regained her composure as the cameraman counted down. 5-4-3-2-1.
"Good evening, Las Vegas. I'm Melissa Collodi, coming to you live with breaking news. The CDC has just released a statement saying that they have discovered what the disease that has spread to unforeseen numbers is. The name of the bacterium is Yersinia pestis, and has been identified as Septicemic plague. The symptoms of this strain of the disease are hypotension, hepatosplenomegaly – the enlargement of the spleen and liver, delirium, seizures in children, shock, a lack of energy, fever, and occasionally symptoms of the Bubonic and Pneumonic strains of the disease. All individuals affected by the disease are advised if not ordered to report to their local hospitals to receive treatment for the disease. In other news…"
*~*~*
Tony almost laughed when he heard the report on the radio. No wonder the medications worked. Everything made sense when he thought about it again, though the bronchopneumonia had probably complicated the disease even more.
It was strange the way things worked.
*~*~*
Ziva had almost fallen asleep when the 1969 Ford Mustang pulled up outside of the hotel. She looked up as the headlights filled the room. She stood up carefully, watching the car in concern.
The door opened, and a very weak looking Tony got out of the car, holding onto the door for support. Ziva's face lit up with newfound hope. Frantically, she pulled on her surgical mask and ran out of the room, straight into Tony's arms, laughing and sobbing. The others followed her out of the room, confused.
"I thought I had lost you." Ziva whispered into Tony's shirt, crying.
"I'm sorry." Tony whispered back.
Ziva just cried harder.
"Sempre e per sempre."
*~*~*
At 20:30 Las Vegas time, 250 million people in the U.S. alone had died from the disease.
The 30 million who had been affected who were able to get treatment in time, for the most part, lived.
Around the world, over 5.5 billion people had died from the disease. 1 billion others were able to get treatment in time.
In only five days, the Earth's population was reduced to 1.5 billion, as many people as had been in India and China only days earlier.
All 7 people who had been standing outside that tiny hotel room were able to return to Washington D.C. in only a matter of days. NCIS was reestablished, albeit much smaller than before, and in a few weeks the cases started to return.
A month after the pandemic, Tony proposed to Ziva.
She said yes.
*~*~*
I am burning in your fire
(There's no cure)
I have only one desire
(There's no cure)
Now I don't know what to do with myself
Do with myself
(I can not deny her)
(There's no cure)
Now I don't know what to do with myself
Do with myself
I don't want nobody else.
Contagious – Trapt
*~*~*
A/N: That was fun to write! Though I think that I read too much of I Am Legend, and I think that I based a little too much off of Alien, I think I did pretty good! What do you guys think? Should I write an epilogue, or what? Anyway, I kept looking up a ridiculous amount of information on the septicemic plague. And I now know way too much about it. Medical dork, remember?
Emo pianist out!