Tony lay in the middle of a puddle, pelted by torrents of rain. The storm had come up quickly, scattering the men into the shelters and putting out the fires. No one had bothered to drag the bound agent out of the rain, leaving him lying in the middle of the camp.
Well, at least he felt cooler. Of course, now he'd probably develop pneumonia or some tropical disease and cough himself to death. That is if his shoulder wound didn't fester into a mess of pustulent putriditude. Tony wondered if that was even a word. Ducky would know, probably Palmer, too. Abby would definitely know, that sort of gross stuff was right up her alley. He was going to miss Abby. Abby was fun and sweet, but tough as nails.
He was going to miss all of them. Their team had become a little family, an unusual and sometimes dysfunctional family, but then aren't most of them like that? His biological family wasn't exactly a perfect 50's sitcom. Maybe that's why he loved shows like Ozzie and Harriet and Father Knows Best. Oh, and the Donna Reed Show. Donna Reed was a real beauty, and she baked. Tony's mother never baked. The cook baked. The cook cooked. The cook looked nothing like Donna Reed, more like Aunt Bea. That was okay, though, because she acted like Aunt Bea, slipping Tony cookies and treats and letting him hang out in her kitchen.
"I must be delirious," mumbled Tony, relieved to see the storm break. He tried to maneuver himself out of the puddle, but didn't have the strength. Resigned, he lay his head down, grateful that the water wasn't too deep. The storm had blown in cooler air and Tony was starting to feel its effects, alternating sweating profusely and shivering uncontrollably.
The men had come out from the shelters and were trying to find dry wood to start the fires again when suddenly one of the shelters exploded, debris showering down on the startled men. Gunfire came from behind the trees, sending the men scattering. A canister landed in the middle of the camp, bursting in a shower of flame and smoke, the smoke spreading along the ground.
Tony felt himself being grabbed and dragged along the ground. He tried to struggle, but was too weak. His face was splashed with mud and water, blinding him. He could hear the men yelling, the gunfire and the sound of the ammunition exploding in the shelters. One of the men dragging him tripped and fell.
"Bloody hell!"
Ducky? Tony knew he was delirious.
"Are you okay?"
And Ziva? Maybe he was dead.
Tony felt someone wipe the mud from his face, clearing his eyes. He blinked to try to focus and saw the concerned faces of his two friends.
"Tony, can you hear me?" Ziva asked anxiously.
"Ziva?" His voice was hoarse and weak, but it was enough to make the young woman smile brightly. "Ducky? Am I dreaming?"
"No, Anthony," exclaimed Ducky, "unless we're having concurrent dreams. I once visited a village in the hills of Nepal…"
"Not now, Ducky," interrupted Ziva. "Tony, do you think you can walk if we help you?" she asked, as she untied the injured agent.
"I don't know," replied Tony, weakly. "I'll try. I'm not feeling too good…"
"Yes, you appear to have an infection, you're feverish. It's all right, Anthony, we'll help you. We'll carry you, if need be."
"We have to keep moving," said Ziva, urgently. "Gibbs and Eitan won't be able to pin the bandits down in one place for long."
"Gibbs?" Tony was starting to feel as if he was in the Twilight Zone. He expected to see Rod Serling step out from behind a tree and start introducing an episode about alternate realities.
"Come on," urged Ziva, as she pulled him to his feet. She slid his arm over her shoulders, taking on some of his weight while Ducky went to Tony's other side and did the same. The three headed through the woods, leaving the sound of gunfire and explosions behind them.
They were joined by two men covered in braches and leaves, their faces brown with mud.
"Let me take him," Gibbs said to Ziva, "cover our backs." He slid in Ziva's place while she grabbed his automatic rifle and dropped back.
"Gibbs?" Tony looked at the face of his former boss, not daring to believe his eyes.
"Yeah, DiNozzo," grinned Gibbs, "it's me. You sure do get in a lot of trouble."
"Sorry, Boss." Tony couldn't keep the grin from his face.
"Come on." Gibbs pulled him along, Ducky still on Tony's other side. "You can explain what happened to me later."
The small group moved as quickly as possible, trying to reach the airfield before the armed bandits caught up to them. Tony was breathing hard, barely able to keep on his feet. His shoulder had opened up again and was bleeding freely.
"We've got to stop the bleeding," Ducky said.
"We're almost there." Gibbs kept moving. "We can't stop now, they're close."
"Jethro, he could bleed to death in our arms," exclaimed the older man. Before Gibbs could say anything, Tony lost consciousness, his dead weight more than Ducky could hold, and fell to the ground.
Gibbs and Ducky knelt down next to the fallen agent. Tony's face was deep red and he was gasping for air.
"Do what you can, Duck," Gibbs said. "I'll buy us some time." Grabbing a rifle, he ran back in the direction they came from. "Ziva, go up and help Ducky. Singer, go with her."
"What are you going to do?" asked Ziva.
"Cut the head off."
Nodding, Ziva and Eitan ran to help Ducky.
Crouching down behind a fallen tree, Gibbs took a sight out of his pack and affixed it to his rifle. Laying the barrel of the rifle against the tree, he looked through the sight, waiting until he saw his target, the leader of the group. Carefully taking aim, Gibbs pulled the trigger, hitting the large man in the middle of the forehead as he was yelling orders to his men. Stunned, they looked around. There was no nearby cover from which the shot could have come. Carefully, Gibbs took aim again, taking another man down with deadly precision.
"It's a sniper," yelled one of the men. "He'll pick us off one by one…" Panic stricken, the remaining bandits turned and ran away.
Gibbs rejoined his team. "How is he?" he asked anxiously.
"I've managed to stop the bleeding, but he's running a fever and his breathing is compromised," replied Ducky. "We've got to get him to the airfield so I can start an IV and oxygen and give him some antibiotics. But he needs to be in hospital, quickly."
"Where's the portable stretcher?"
"Here." Ziva had assembled the device. They secured Tony to the stretcher and took off at a fast pace.
McGee ran to join them as soon as they broke from the cover of the trees. "Is he okay?" he yelled anxiously, looking down at the bedraggled form of his friend.
"He's alive," replied Gibbs.
Once on the plane, Ducky started an IV and administered oxygen and antibiotics to the injured agent.
Ziva and Eitan sat out of the way, conversing softly in Hebrew. The young woman kept glancing worriedly at the doctor administering aid to Tony.
"Niree shebeemet Echpat lach mimeno" said Eitan, eyebrow raised. It looks like you really care for him.
"Who chaver tov sheli," replied Ziva. He's a good friend of mine.
"Tov Kamoni?" Eitan grinned at her. As good as I am?
Ziva looked at him and smiled, "Ktzat acheret, aval ken tov kamocha," she replied, swatting him lightly on the arm. A little different, but yes, as good as you are.
"Ani sameach sheyesh lach misheho sheat yechola lismoch alav," Eitan said seriously. "Daagti lach sham sheat mokefet beanashim zarim." I'm glad you have someone you can trust... ... I was worried about you (over there) surrounded by strangers
"Hem lo zarim," she said, "Hem chaverim." They're not strangers, they're friends.
Eitan nodded.
"Hishtaveno, Eitan. Ata lo chayav li yoter shum davar," Ziva said. We're even, Eitan. You don't owe me anything anymore.
"Ze lo meshane, at tamid yechula likro li." You can always call on me.
Ziva smiled and kissed Eitan softly on the cheek. She stood and went over to stand beside Gibbs as Ducky adjusted the oxygen mask over Tony's face. The younger agent's face was flushed and his breathing was labored.
"Will he make it, Duck?" Gibbs asked.
"Time will tell, Jethro," replied Ducky, gravely. "Anthony's a healthy young man, but he's been through a great deal these past few days. The only thing we can do now is get him to a hospital, and pray."
