Set after "An Eye for An Eye".

VENEZUELAN AIRSPACE
ATLANTIC OCEAN COASTLINE
MARCH 30, 2005

Tony lightly snored as the plane taking them from Paraguay to Guantanamo thundered through Venezuelan airspace. The plane had passed the ocean coastline when Kate looked up from her magazine to look at Tony's slumber.

"How the hell does he do that?" Kate wondered. "He's just like Gibbs."

"Gibbs would totally out," Tony muttered. "I'm just resting my eyes."

Kate snickered. "Tony can I ask you something?"

"Shoot," Tony yawned.

"I'm curious, what brought your family to the States?"

"Mussolini," Tony said. Kate raised an eyebrow.

"Oh you want more?" he teased.

"Yes. Obviously. Did il Duce buy your family a ticket?"

Tony chuckled. Smartass girl. "My great-grandfather, Vito, had an uncle who was a...'man of honor'. Things got pretty bad for anyone associated with the Mafia after Mussolini came into power. Mussolini sicked his black shirts against the mafia, but also adopted a policy of guilt by association, or in Vito's case, guilt by blood. Basically, you could have lived a crime-less life and never broken the law. But if you had a relative that was a criminal like we did, Mussolini considered you guilty. It's kind of like DC comic Bane suffering for his father's crime. My great-great grandfather, Antonio, figured that Vito would either get drafted or locked up...or worse. So he sent Vito to America in 1933. Vito drove a truck for $2 a day until he was able to start his own transportation company."

"What happened to Antonio?" Kate asked.

"He was too old to make the trip. Crippled by arthritis or something. I don't know, I wasn't there. Mussolini had him arrested. He died in jail. Mussolini had him buried in an unmarked mass grave, buried along with other capitalists, communists, mafiosos and those who disagreed with 'Il Duce'."

"I'm sorry, Tony," Kate said, deeply concerned. "I never really kept track of my family history. Never really interested me."

"Yeah. It's fine. We've all got our stories. Our interests."

When his father told him about how the DiNozzo family came to the states, Tony was saddened. Tony never got into politics because of the story.

Down on the ground, there was a Venezuelan beach house, used by the local drug cartel. Inside where half a dozen cartel members. The boss was counting money from a recent business deal when a guy came running in.

"Jefe, hay un avión americano por encima," one cartel guy shouted. "Puede que el gobierno nos haya encontrado. Jefe, qué hacemos?"

"Dispara hacia abajo, cabron!" the Jefe shouted. Another cartel member came out with a shoulder-launched FIM-92 Stinger missile launcher.

"Disparar!"

"Ay guey...Vaya con Dios, americanos," the guy said as he lined up the target. When target was locked, he pulled the trigger. The missile launched itself out of the launcher. A second later, the rocket inside ignited and zoomed itself toward the C-130. The infrared homing system guided itself towards the target effortlessly.

Tony had almost gone back to sleep just as the calm before the storm ended. A rapid buzzer sounded in the cockpit. The captain looked down at his radar screen. A little blip blinked on it.

"What the hell?" The captain said. "Radar tracking, 6:00."

"Warrior, this is Alpha-Bravo-Nine," the co-pilot dispatched. "We have been targeted by a surface-to-air missile. Hang on back there!

"Flight control, execute evasive maneuvers!"

"Did he say missile?" Kate asked.

"I'm afraid so," Tony answered.

"What do we do?"

"The only thing we can do, Kate. Strap yourself in...and pray."

The pilots turned to port, desperate to avoid the deadly stinger coming at them. The missile kept coming.

"Coming up on our right!" the captain said.

"Breaking left. Launching flares!"

A push of a button caused the whole plane to shake as white hot flares shot out of the plane, a loud droning noise announcing their launch. The flares were often called the Angel Flares due to the characteristic pattern. The missile fell for the trap and exploded in the storm of light.

"Missile dispatched."

"Shit, we've got another one coming in," the captain called. "We're out of flares. Breaking right!"

Before anyone could respond, the second missile hit home. Like a steel battering ram, the missile ripped into the cockpit, exploding on impact. The C-130 was shattered. Both men in the nose section were instantly killed as it separated from the fuselage. The nose was briefly held on by a band of metal but facing aft, like the lid of a can. It then sheared off, up and backwards to starboard, striking off the No. 3 engine.

Then hell began for Tony and Kate. What was now going on in this unpressurized plane was catastrophic shaking, noise, screaming, yelling, metal groaning and breaking and...violence. Total violence.

Tony winced as the the outer-most part of the left wing snapped off and the plane began spiraling towards the water. "Hang on, Kate!" he shouted.

"I am!" she screamed back, desperately praying that the plane would hold itself together. That's when the rest of the left wing ripped off, propellers on the two engines still churning. The force ripped Tony's belt and he was thrown forward. He slammed into the wall right next to Kate.

"Tony!"

"I'm alright, just stay where you are!" Tony shouted as he grabbed a hold of the netting with one hand and crossed himself with the other. He prayed, Dear Lord Jesus up in Heaven, please protect us.

Then an aileron ripped itself clear. Debris began tearing themselves off the dying aircraft. Tony's hands gripped the netting tightly as the plane spiraled closer and closer to the water. He again silently prayed for their lives. The aircraft groaned once again before the right wing broke off, separating between the two engines. The plane's spiraling increased. Tony grabbed Kate's hand. Kate squeezed his hand hard.

"Oh, my God," Tony whispered as the water grew closer and closer. "Hang on, Kate! This is it! Do not let go of my hand!"

With Tony covering Kate with his body, they both closed their eyes as the aircraft finally made contact with the water.

When Kate woke, she was under water. The plane was below her sinking. Somehow, the force of the crash must have ripped her seat belt and sent her out of the cabin. Without thinking further, Kate immediately rushed for the surface. Her only thought at that point was survival. Her vision was starting to darken. Lungs nearly-bursting, Kate took the deepest breath she had ever taken when her head finally stuck out of the water. Good Lord, Virgin Mary and a grilled-cheese sandwich, she was alive. The water was freezing. It felt like a thousand knives stabbing all over her body.

Kate felt as if her head been sliced in two. Her head ached and reeled from the experience. There was a loud ringing in her ear. She looked around, trying to find her colleague. Last she knew, he was right next to her, covering her body with his own. But he was no where to be found. A life jacket floated to the surface nearby. Kate swam to it and grabbed a hold of it. Not much of a safety device or a raft, but it was all she had to stay afloat.

"Tony!" she called. "Tony?! Where are you?"

Unfortunately, she received no response.

Hearing a noise, Kate reached for her gun...only to realize she didn't have a gun on her hip. Piece was probably sinking to the bottom now. A yacht was coming to her. It was a Venezuelan fisherman.

"Señorita, estás bien?" someone called out.

"What?!"

"Lady, you okay?" the man said in broken English as he rowed out towards her. He leaned over and stuck his hand. Kate gratefully took it and was hauled into the boat. That's when he caught sight of the wreckage, some of which was still floating. The fisherman crossed himself. "Dios mio."

Kate turned to see what he saw. Where they had approximately crashed, debris was everywhere. A wing there, a propeller there, a window there. The tail was sinking slowly, sticking up high in the air, groaning as it slowly slid beneath the waves. A small oil fire lit the night sky. Kate fell to her knees on the boat's bow and uttered only one word through her tears.

"Tony..."

Review. Ever have that moment where you're like, "Man...I fucked up"?