Stubborn Vigilance

By the time Tony and McGee had reached Ziva and Palmer again, they started to have concerns that they might not be found before sunset.

"We have to get her back to the plane ASAP," Tony quietly observed. McGee simply nodded. "Still no cell service?" he asked. Tony shook his head. I left it on though. For GPS."

"I'm sure they know we've gone down, right?" Palmer asked, sounding unsure of himself. Tony nodded. "Yeah. We would have vanished from their radar. I'm sure they have a general idea how to find us."

Palmer glanced worriedly down at Ziva, who had finally fallen into a real slumber, instead of simply losing consciousness again. "We have to get her to a hospital. I don't know for sure what other injuries she has. Guys, I'm not a doctor yet, and even if I was…" He shook his head helplessly. For the first time since their ordeal had begun, Palmer was beginning to sound unsure of himself.

McGee nodded grimly. "Even if you were, there's only so much you can do out here. We know, Jimmy. Don't beat yourself up. We're fortunate to have you."

"I never would have had the stones to reset her leg like that," Tony said. McGee smiled, reassuringly. "We're proud of you, Jimmy." Palmer smiled at them gratefully. "Thanks. Well," he sighed, glancing worriedly down at Ziva, "in the meantime we need to keep her warm. The last thing we need is for her to go into shock."

McGee stepped forward, draping his coat over her. "I knew this thing would come in handy someday," he said, grinning briefly. He gently tucked Ziva in, softly brushing her cheek with his hand. "It's so weird to see her like this. I mean, she's one of the strongest women I know."

"I hear ya, Probie," Tony said, going over and crouching down on her other side. "Hey, if any of us could handle this, it's her. I'd be whining like a kicked puppy."

Palmer and McGee both snorted. "Yeah, well… all the women I've ever known have managed at one time or another to point out how most men are just big babies," McGee said. Palmer chuckled softly. "In their humble opinion, of course. Jasmine tells me that all the time." McGee smiled at him knowingly, "Tell me about it. She grew up telling me what a wimp I was, just because I was a boy."

Their attention turned suddenly to Ziva, as she began to stir again. "You are all just big babies," she said, sleepily.

"Nothing wrong with her hearing," Tony observed. "We should probably get her back to the fuselage," McGee pointed out.

"Ziva, this is going to hurt us more that it'll hurt you," Tony tried to soothe. "Somehow I doubt that very much," she replied. "It has to be done. I understand that. Do what you must, but please do it quickly." She sounded tired, and resigned to her immediate fate.

When they had their improvised splint - some solid pieces of wreckage that were more or less straight - the three men surrendered their ties, including a couple of spares that McGee had retrieved from his and Palmer's suitcases, to secure it. "This was my most expensive one, too," Tony grumbled.

"How do we know when it's tight enough?" McGee asked. Palmer took on a serious expression. "We apply tension until her bellybutton pops up. Then it's tight enough." He managed to remain straight-faced for a few seconds longer, before Ziva, in spite of her extreme discomfort, erupted in a fit of giggling. Tony and McGee smiled in spite of themselves. "Seriously, Jimmy," Tony said, shaking his head with amusement. Palmer smiled as he checked, then looked up at them. "That should be good. The main thing is that her leg remains supported by the splint."

When they'd finally gotten her ready to move, it had yet to be decided who would support her torso.

"She'd kill me," Tony said, flatly. McGee raised an eyebrow. "Come on, Tony. Don't you remember that undercover assignment last year?"

"Yeah. So does she. That's my point, McGee." Palmer snorted. "Someone has to." Tony levelled a look at him. "So why don't you do it then, Autopsy Boy?"

Palmer smiled sweetly. "Because someone has to support her leg. Someone with more medical training than you have. Unless you want us to have to reset it again?"

McGee sighed. "Fine then, I'll do it. I don't think she'd mind my arms wrapped around her chest. Well… okay, she would. But she'd mind it less than you, Tony."

Slowly, carefully, they carried their injured colleague back to the relative safe haven of the fuselage. Once there, they settled in, and waited for rescue.

…………………………………………………………

Abby and Jasmine sat quietly in the squad room, waiting for news.

Gibbs was trying to concentrate on the current case, the one that had sent his team out of D.C. in the first place. But, as he was quickly discovering, his attention span left much to be desired.

Ducky had returned to autopsy, like Gibbs, in an attempt to carry on and push his fears aside.

But he remembered all too well what it was like to lose Caitlin, to do her post-mortem. He didn't relish the idea of doing it for Anthony, Timothy, Ziva, and especially Jimmy.

So, he tried, as best he could, to put the idea out of his head.

Anthony was resourceful, and stubborn as a jackass. He never gave up easily, or without one hell of a fight.

Timothy had a lot more going for him than anyone imagined, and he, like Anthony, was very stubborn, once he got an idea into his head. That determination, and stubborn insistence that he was right, had saved his backside more than once.

Ziva was one of the strongest and most independent women he had ever met. Oh, yes. And she was stubborn, as well. Now that he thought about it, perhaps it was a pre-requisite for working with Jethro.

And Jimmy… well, hopefully he would do those years he'd spent as a Boy Scout justice. And who knew? Maybe his young assistant would prove himself to be more than just, "Yes Sir, No, Sir." Provided of course, that Mr. Palmer was still alive.

Ducky recoiled slightly at the thought. His attempts at not thinking the worst had happened were clearly beginning to fail.

He sighed heavily, and shook his head sadly.

…………………………………………………………

Upstairs, Gibbs had finally given up on productive work. He looked over to Abby, who had stationed herself at McGee's desk, and Jasmine, who had borrowed Ziva's chair, and sat beside Abby. Both women looked pre-occupied with their own thoughts.

"Abs, why don't you go home?" he gently suggested. Abby gave him a withering glare, followed quickly by Jasmine's classic McGee Scowl, the one that Gibbs had learned to recognize from her big brother as being his way of conveying extreme annoyance, without actually resorting to outright insubordination.

"Okay, so don't go home," he muttered to himself.

"Agent Gibbs, you don't seriously think we're going to just go home like good little girls and wait for news? I should think you'dknow us better by now." Jasmine was giving him a steady look.

"Yeah, Jaz. You're right, I do know you better than that. At least, go wait in the break room? I'm sure you'd be more comfortable there."

"Gibbs, we're perfectly comfortable where we are," Abby said, raising an eyebrow in his direction.

Gibbs knew better, but also knew enough not to pick a fight with these two women. He sighed softly and tried to return to the task at hand, still waiting for him patiently on his desktop.