­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­­Chapter Three

The sun was high, beating down relentlessly on the rickety dock. Waves of heat rose from the golden sand, creating a shimmering haze. The water lapped lazily against the wooden structure. Former Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs sat in an old chair, a fishing pole balanced loosely between his legs. He knew he wasn't going to catch anything, but felt stupid just sitting there.

It had been three months since the incident with the Cape Fear. He could still feel the anger and frustration at the senseless deaths of the crew of the ship and the unfortunate Navy personnel of the boarding party. The feelings were dulled as time went by, however, and his decision to leave NCIS was looking more and more like a knee-jerk reaction. He was tired of walking along the beach, fishing, and hanging out with Mike Franks.

Gibbs snorted. Franks, now there was a burn-out. The man drank like a fish, smoked like a chimney and went after the pretty young women in the cantina like DiNozzo went after the women in the secretarial pool, but with less success. When Gibbs had first seen his former mentor again, the pain of Shannon and Kelly's deaths was fresh and raw. He saw Franks through those eyes, remembering the way the older agent had taught him how to investigate crime scenes. As Gibbs' memory returned, he no longer saw Franks through rose-colored glasses. Yes, he understood the emotions that caused the other man to quit and run off to Mexico, but even though he had acted on those same emotions, Gibbs couldn't keep from thinking about what was happening back home.

Home. Maybe that was the difference between Gibbs and his former mentor. Franks had no one back in the States. He had left with no thought whatsoever to the team he left behind. He had no ties. Gibbs had ties that he was just starting to appreciate. His team was his family, and he had left them behind with just a few words and without a backward glance.

He trusted the team in Tony's hands. The younger agent was intelligent, more than capable to lead a team. He might lose some of his playfulness, but Tony had always felt a sense of responsibility toward his teammates, leading them shouldn't make that much of a difference, at least he hoped not. Gibbs hated the thought of the younger man becoming cynical before his time. Tony had shown signs of a less than perfect childhood, but had always been able to hide the pain with a cocky grin and playful attitude. The team needed that as much as they needed his leadership.

"Are the fish biting?"

Gibbs jumped, turning to face the voice, shading his eyes from the blazing sun.

"David?" he asked in amazement. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"You're getting slow, Jethro," replied Ziva, "you didn't even hear me coming."

"I'm retired," grumbled Gibbs, "I don't have to be careful anymore."

Ziva sat down on the dock, letting her feet dangle in the water. Her long dark hair was pulled away from her face, tied loosely in the back. She wore loose clothing and dark glasses.

"What are you doing here?" repeated Gibbs.

"Nice to see you too, Gibbs," replied Ziva. "Aren't you going to offer me one?" she indicated a tub filled with ice, holding some bottles of beer.

Gibbs snagged a bottle, opened it and handed it to her. "Well?"

"I'm calling in that favor."

Gibbs regarded her through narrowed eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked.

"It's Tony."

"Is he in trouble?" Gibbs felt his pulse quicken.

Ziva took a swig of beer before answering. "Tony's been captured by persons unknown." She stared out over the water.

"What happened?"

"He and McGee went down to Paraguay to retrieve a prisoner. They were ambushed, McGee was shot and Tony disappeared, presumably taken hostage by the attackers."

"McGee?"

"Alive" Ziva replied shortly. "His head was grazed by a bullet and they left him for dead. They killed the prisoner and took Tony with them."

"The rescue mission?"

"The Director decided against it. She said it wasn't worth risking more agents for just one. She thinks Tony's probably dead already. Or worse."

Gibbs leaned forward, his eyes cold. "She refused to go after him?"

Ziva turned to face him. "She refused to send anyone. She called the local CIA officials, to see if they could locate Tony, but that's all she could do. You know how long these things take between agencies, so I resigned my post…"

"And decided to put together a rescue mission of your own," finished Gibbs.

Ziva nodded. "I need your help," she said. "Tony needs your help."

Gibbs stared at her for a moment, his sharp blue eyes examining her face for any sign of emotion. "You know he's still alive?" he asked.

"As of yesterday, yes," she replied. "I have a friend, also Mossad, stationed in the area. He's monitoring Al Qaida activity in the area. He owes me a favor." She took another swig of beer before continuing. "He managed to track down the men who took Tony. He's trailing them for us, we'll join up with him and plan a way to get Tony out of there alive."

Gibbs stood, holding a hand out to Ziva to help her stand. "Let's go back to the house," he said gruffly, "you'll get heatstroke."

"I'm Israeli," scoffed Ziva, "I'm used to hot, dry climates. Part of our team is waiting at the house anyway."

"Who's that?"

"Ducky."

Gibbs looked at her in surprise. "Ducky? What's he going to do?"

Ziva shrugged. "He insisted on coming along, in case Tony needs medical attention. I couldn't say no."

Gibbs laughed. "I bet. Who else is on this 'team' of yours?"

"Just you, me, Ducky and McGee," replied Ziva. "And my friend, of course," she added.

"That's not much of a team," observed Gibbs.

"Between you, me and Eitan, we have a pretty strong group. Ducky's medical skill will come in handy. McGee," Ziva shrugged, "normally he would be good backup. I'm hoping that the head injury didn't affect his vision or anything like that. It wouldn't be right to leave him out of this anyway."

As the two approached the house they were greeting by a beaming Medical Examiner.

"Jethro!" exclaimed Ducky, drawing the other man into a hug. "You are the picture of good health, my friend. Although, I must warn you to wear more sunscreen."

"It's good to see you, too, Ducky," replied Gibbs, returning the hug warmly.

The three went into the house, the main room cooled by large ceiling fan whirring lazily. Gibbs retrieved more beer from the cooler and motioned the other two to sit at the small table.

"How have things been, up until this latest incident?" he inquired.

"Things have been going swimmingly, Jethro," replied Ducky. "Tony is an excellent leader, you trained him well."

Ziva concurred, "I admit, I was surprised at the way Tony slipped into the team leader role with no problem. He constantly refers to you and your rules, but throws in a few of his own. Some of his are a bit frivolous," she said, smiling, "but I think that's his way of showing us that the old Tony is still around, and to watch our backs, or we'll end up with a 'kick me' sign taped to it."

"I never realized how intuitive he is," she continued. "He must have shown that side of himself to you more often."

Gibbs nodded. "I knew he was ready for the lead. I was worried that he was being overshadowed by me, but it's good to see he's grown into his own role as Senior Agent."

"Of course, he misses you, Jethro," Ducky said. "As we all do, very much. Abby is still playing dirges, Tony's the only one who can get a true smile out of her. She's scared to death that we've lost him."

"Tell me what happened," Gibbs said, grimly.

"It was supposed to be a simple assignment," replied Ziva. "Corporal Walter Pearson was acting as a donkey for drug runners..."

"Mule," corrected Gibbs.

"Yes, yes, mule," Ziva waved him off. "He was involved in a bar fight in a town in Paraguay, the local authorities arrested him and contacted the Navy. Tony and McGee were just supposed to go down and pick him up, then bring him back home to stand trial. McGee isn't sure what happened, he must have been hit in the first part of the attack. When he woke up, Pearson was dead and Tony was missing."

"And the Director decided that Tony was probably dead, so she wouldn't put together a team to find him?" asked Gibbs.

Ziva nodded. "I don't understand her attitude," she said. "She's been very supportive of him, she seems pleased with the way he's leading the team. But she won't do much to save him, or to find out if he's still alive. I had to go through unofficial channels."

"That's good work, Ziva," Gibbs said. "We need to go, as soon as possible. Do you have transportation arranged?"

"Abby's got a transport for us, waiting to take us to a small airstrip. From there, we'll hike to a rendezvous point, where we'll meet up with Eitan Singer, my friend from Mossad. We can leave as soon as you're ready."

Gibbs stood. "I'm ready now. I'll just throw some things in a bag and leave a note for Mike. Do you have weapons arranged?"

Ziva nodded. "We're fully armed."

"Let's go."