Chapter 8

Commandante Raul Hernandez stormed around the jailhouse. He was seething. Gibbs was gone. His two officers stood bruised and battered to one side of the front room, their heads hanging low, having taking a battering of verbal abuse from their boss. Hernandez had been with his mistress a few hundred meters away when he heard the gunshots. By the time he had pulled on some pants and run to the old jailhouse, it was all over. The car was gone, Gibbs was gone. He found one of his officers inside the jailhouse uncuffing his bloodied colleague. Raul was livid. He ranted and raved and thumped the desk and threw one of the chairs right across the room. Eventually he calmed down enough to hear his officer's version of what had happened. He found some consolation in knowing that Gibbs had drunk from the bottle of water he had provided for him. He must be feeling the effects of the arsenic by now. The symptoms of arsenic poisoning can manifest within hours of ingestion. A wicked smile crossed his face as he pictured the American agent suffering agonisingly. However, he suspected that the dose Gibbs had ingested might not be enough to kill him.

He needed to witness his demise. He needed to be sure, otherwise all this was for nothing. He needed to find the Americans. He ordered one of the officers to put out an APB for their apprehension. They were to be located but not approached until he got there. He suspected that they would try and get across the border, so he also arranged for the border police to be on the lookout for the American agents. He had only planned to kill Gibbs but had no qualms about eliminating the other two if it became necessary. Revenge was now driving him. Right and wrong had long since been obscured.

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Back on the road, Tony and Franks were navigating their way to the coastal town of La Pesca in the east of Mexico. Gibbs had fallen asleep, his head leaning on the passenger side window. Tony and Franks conversed in whispered tones.

"He seems pretty sick, Mike. Do you think he'll be okay?" Tony asked softly.

Mike looked at Gibbs' sleeping form sitting beside him. Every so often he could feel Gibbs' body shiver against him. There was a conspicuous film of sweat on his brow. There was no doubt Gibbs wasn't getting any better. He too was getting worried about his friend.

"I don't know, DiNozzo," Franks replied as softly as he could. "Whatever's wrong with him, I'm pretty sure it's not food poisoning," he surmised.

"We need to get him to a doctor," Tony said seriously.

"Do you really think he's going to go?" Franks replied.

Tony rubbed his brow, knowing that Franks was right. He looked over at Gibbs, who was in a deep sleep. The raspy breaths that he released every now and again didn't go unnoticed. Tony turned his eyes back to the road and he drove towards the rising sun. It had been one long night. They had been on the road for over an hour when Franks offered to drive for some of the way. Tony was glad to accept and pulled over and they switched places. It was then that Tony decided would be a good time to call the office. The phone rang and it was answered almost immediately.

"Tony?" McGee asked anxiously.

"You were expecting someone else?" Tony retorted.

"Where the hell have you been? We're been trying to contact you for ages," McGee informed him.

"I've been busy breaking Gibbs out of jail," Tony told him. "Had to turn off my cell for a while."

"You found Gibbs?" McGee asked, with a sense of anticipation.

"Yeah, he's with us. Hernandez had him banged up in some small town jailhouse. Franks has a line on a way out of Mexico for us. You see, we're kind of on the run," Tony informed him.

"On the run?"

"Yeah, we can't risk trying to cross the border. Hernandez will be expecting that. Franks has sourced a boat for us. We're going to try and sail to Florida," Tony told him.

"Sail? Are you sure that's a good idea?" McGee asked.

"Not my idea but seems like we don't have much choice," Tony explained. "Is Ducky there?"

"Ducky? Not at the moment, why?" McGee asked.

"I'm worried about Gibbs. He's sick." Tony said by way of explanation.

"How sick?" McGee asked.

"Well if I knew that, McGee, I wouldn't need Ducky," Tony snapped.

"Okay, Tony. I'll get him to call you. Where are you now?" McGee enquired.

"We're on the 180 heading east to La Pesca. Cell coverage seems okay, so you should be able get me," Tony informed him.

"Okay, well be careful," McGee said before the call ended.

In the offices of NCIS, Ziva and Abby had been listening to McGee as he spoke to Tony. As soon as Abby heard McGee mention that someone was sick, her worry barometer rose immediately. The moment he hung up she pounced on him.

"Sick? Who's sick, McGee? What's going on? Is it Tony? Gibbs? McGee, answer me!" Abby demanded anxiously.

"I would if you'd let me, Abs," McGee said standing up. "It's Gibbs."

"Gibbs? They found him? Oh no, what's wrong with him?" Abby asked desperately.

"I don't know, Abs. He didn't say. He wanted to speak to Ducky," McGee told her.

"Ducky? That means he's worried," Abby replied, steadily becoming frantic.

"Don't worry, Abby," Ziva said, stopping her pacing by giving her a hug. "This is Gibbs. He is strong. Whatever it is, I'm sure he'll be fine."

As she comforted Abby, McGee made the call to Ducky. He explained what was going on and told him as much as he knew. Ducky agreed to call Tony immediately.

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Gibbs woke with a start from his slumber as Tony's cell phone rang beside him. Tony answered it quickly. Gibbs blinked several times, trying to clear his vision. His head was killing him now. His vision blurred on and off.

"Yeah, DiNozzo!" Tony said answering the phone.

"Ah, Anthony, you were looking for me," Ducky said calmly.

"Yeah, Ducky," Tony said, casting a quick glance at Gibbs as he stirred. "I'm worried about Gibbs."

"So I heard. What are his symptoms?" Ducky asked, hoping a description would help him diagnose what was wrong.

"I'm not sure. He's getting sick, sweating and shivering. I'm pretty sure he's getting stomach cramps," Tony said, describing what he had witnessed by observing Gibbs. As he spoke, Gibbs turned to him, unimpressed that Tony was talking about him as if he wasn't there.

"I'm fine, DiNozzo," he growled.

"You're not fine, Boss," Tony replied bravely. "He's grouchy too, Ducky."

"Did he eat anything unusual?" Ducky asked soberly.

"I don't know, Ducky. Maybe you should ask him?" Tony said, handing the cell phone to Gibbs.

"Hey, Duck," Gibbs said quietly.

"Jethro, tell me exactly how you feel, and I don't want to hear any of your usual, I'm fine, lines," Ducky said insistently.

"Ducky, don't waste your time, there's nothing you can do. I'm sure Raul put something into the water," Gibbs admitted. Tony and Franks both turned their heads towards him in surprise. They couldn't understand why he hadn't said anything to them.

"Okay," Ducky said, trying to hide his worry. "So are you saying you've been poisoned?"

"I think so," Gibbs replied quite composed.

"Well then you need to get to a hospital, Jethro," Ducky told him without hesitation.

"I can't, Duck," Gibbs replied. "It's too risky."

"Jethro, we don't know what he's given you or how much you've ingested. You need to be treated and the sooner the better. If you leave it too long…. well……lets just say it won't end well," Ducky pointed out.

"I'll wait until we get back to the States," Jethro insisted.

"It could be too late by then, Jethro. Early gastric lavage could save your life. Please, listen to me. It's not worth risking your life," Ducky pleaded.

"I'm a dead man if he finds me, Duck," Gibbs responded, referring to Raul. He knew he'd come after him. Raul hadn't exacted the revenge he was hoping for.

"How long will it take you to get to Florida?" Ducky asked.

"I've no idea. Two, maybe three days depending on the winds," Gibbs replied.

"That's too long, Jethro," Ducky warned, hating the helplessness that he felt being so far from his ailing friend. "Don't do this, Jethro. Get to a hospital, please."

"Duck, don't worry. I'm feeling better already," Gibbs lied, hoping to allay his friend's fears. "It was probably nothing. Look, we're getting close to the coast. We'll call you when we find our ride."

Tony looked at the man sitting next to him, with a quizzical look, as he hung up the phone. Gibbs turned and met his gaze. He knew Tony was concerned and deep down he was grateful, but now wasn't the time for sentiment. They still had to get to the boat and then cross the Gulf of Mexico. Gibbs could feel the cold sweat on his face. He licked his parched lips. He could do with some water but was afraid it would make him sick again. As if he could read Gibbs' mind, Tony picked up a bottle of water and handed it to his ailing boss. Gibbs held the bottle, contemplating whether or not to drink.

"Boss, you really should drink something. You'll feel a lot worse if you become dehydrated," Tony advised sheepishly.

"Okay, Dr. DiNozzo," Gibbs replied with a wry smile. In spite of how lousy he felt, he decided to try and make it easier on his friends and make out he was doing better than he actually was. He wondered, though, how long he could keep up the pretence.

A/N - thats it for this chapter. Chapter 9 will be posted soon. Thanks for all your reviews.