September 30, 2006: I have it on good authority that Tony needs some assistance, and that I'd better hurry up and get it to him. :)

As always, any characters you recognize belong to the NCIS universe and any you don't recognize belong to me. I write for the sheer pleasure of creating, folks - no infringement intended. This story still isn't being Betaed so any errors are my own darned fault.

As a personal note, my Mum has been reading this story. As this week's episode of NCIS was starting, Mum saw the little girl and turned to me and asked what had happened to the other little girl, the one who was in the water? It took me a few seconds to figure this out, but her asking if Tony was alright, helped. She was thinking of my story and anticipating a resolution on the television. She realised her mix up at the same time I did. I thanked her.

What a compliment. :)

My continued thanks to those who read and those who review my writing. Your comments and support are greatly appreciated. I hope this chapter does not disappoint. :)

Upon rereading this, I've discovered that not much actually happens with regards to plot. There is some character exploration, though.

Enjoy!

Tin Star

Chapter Twelve

By lilmouse

"Do not forsake me, oh my darlin'
On this our wedding day.
Do not forsake me, oh my darlin'
Wait, wait along.

The noonday train will bring Frank Miller.
If I'm a man I must be brave
And I must face that deadly killer
Or lie a coward, a craven coward,
Or lie a coward in my grave."

- From "Do Not Forsake Me (The Ballad of High Noon)", words by Ned Washington, music by Dmitri Tiomkin

He has one heartbeat to take a quick shallow breath and then the world is shut out once more.

The water feels colder around his head than it does on the rest of his body but he knows his clothes are a factor there. They provide some insulation as well as pull him down a bit. His head was really the only thing above the surface a moment ago and even though it's November, the air is still warmer than the water. He hopes he doesn't become disoriented and lose track of which way is up, and he's worried about McGee. You don't go willingly into the water with a head injury unless there are no other options. It is a rule, right up there with waiting an hour after eating before racing for the ol' swimming hole. The situation was sufficiently dire that there were no other options. It gives him little comfort.

Of course, he has a head injury, too, but that's beside the point.

If McGee dies today, it will be his fault and he doesn't know if he'll be able to continue working as a defender of the public when he couldn't even save one of his teammates. The geek, the probie.

His friend.

The river carries him and he doesn't waste his energy fighting it right now.

At least Katie Garvey is safe. One of those people he glimpsed using a cell phone will have called an ambulance.

He can't hold his breath any longer and uses some of his remaining strength to push for the surface. If he struggles against the river too much he knows he'll become exhausted too quickly. Then he'll drown and never know if McGee and Katie survive. Never know how the case concludes. Never know if the cactus Kate gave him last Christmas will ever flower.

Tony hasn't managed to kill it yet.

He gulps in air and doesn't swallow any more water. An American Airlines flight screams overhead as it approaches Reagan National Airport from the northwest, following the river as dictated by the airport regulations: more people coming to see the nation's capital, probably from Chicago. Tony knows there are noise restrictions and security measures, especially since 2001, but the river path is still used. The airplane passes through the ominous clouds like some creature from Jurassic Park. He focuses on it as if it is a beacon and follows it across the Potomac with his eyes, twisting his neck to keep it in sight as the water bounces him around.

It keeps his mind occupied and gives him a reason to stay afloat. Whatever works, right?

He tries facing the shore and manages a few strokes of the front crawl. He doesn't actually make any progress. The current is too strong.

Tony finds himself recalling the statistics mentioned in a seminar a few months ago, a boring event that was mandatory for all agents to attend. The air conditioning had broken down - again - and he had decided that the room was sufficiently hot and stuffy enough to qualify as an oven. The theme was death: why it happened, how it happened, and how Washington ranked amongst American cities when it came to that sort of thing. The tired woman lecturing them had indicated that the civilian violent death rate in Washington, D.C., was forty-five deaths per one hundred thousand, topping Detroit - barely - Baltimore, Atlanta and St. Louis. Only New Orleans was higher.

Tony had frowned as the woman droned on, knowing he had important case files on his desk that required his attention and that they were still going to be there when he was done with this stupid seminar. He had resented the beating his current home of choice was enduring. Sure, the death rate in Washington was high but it wasn't a war zone. She was speaking about the city like it was a juvenile delinquent.

Gee, we're not doing too good, he'd thought, fidgeting in his seat. Guess we'll be voted off the island.

The statistics on drowning in Washington, D.C., during recreational boating activities weren't quite so dramatic but they had increased in recent years. Apparently, the U.S. Coast Guard cited the prevalent factor among drowning victims to be the lack of a PFD - personal flotation device. In 2003, 416 of the 481 people who died in the water were not wearing PFDs.

It feels like forever but he manages to get her arms draped around the solid, closed-cell foam so her upper body is safely above the water.

He suspects it was stupid to let go of the life ring - the only PFD he is likely to encounter - but he weighs too much right now and Katie needed to get ashore. What else was he supposed to do? Odd he should recall that seminar as he struggles to stay above the water. He'd been bored at the time and had tormented Kate by doodling on her notepad during the PowerPoint presentation. He hadn't really paid attention but the content had been absorbed, regardless. His mind is seizing on snippets of information, as if desperately seeking for clues to a crime scene. Anything that will help him survive until he is rescued.

Tony DiNozzo is determined not become a statistic and that helps his arms move faster.

Someone will be sent to find him and McGee. He has no doubt about that, whatsoever. He can only hope they'll both still be alive.

Think positive, think positive -

He has reached the tip of the 'jalapeno' that is East Potomac Park. There are a few people gathered there, probably tourists if the camera equipment he sees is anything to go on. He thinks one of them takes his picture as he zips by. Even though he's moving at quite a pace, he notes the look of horror on the man's face before the river becomes insistent and pulls him under once more.

Guess he's never photographed a drowning man before -

Tony goes limp and doesn't fight the current. It is wearing on his energy, the way rain erodes limestone, but it's the only solution he has right now. He smirks: No puns intended. He knows he's in danger of losing his life but he can still surface periodically, long limbs pressing against the current like he's doing resistance exercises at the gym, so he isn't done yet.

Stubborn.

No, he isn't done yet, not by a long shot. He finds a small smile as he thinks of the usual quote about a fat lady singing that would fit right here, especially coming from his lips. He gives it a twist: Maybe when Abby starts listening to opera.

He's picturing her in the Viking helmet when he realises he's running out of air. He struggles his way to the surface and gasps. It is harder this time. He's physically fit and not psychologically prone to panic easily. Aside from any other elements that make him Tony DiNozzo, those two factors are part of why he's still alive. His mind touches the concepts but doesn't dwell on them. They're just ideas with potential, possibilities, and provide reinforcement to keep moving.

Think positive, think positive -

His will to live can only provide assistance for so long and he is well aware of this. No one wants to drown and yet there are so many who do, even those noted for being excellent swimmers. He doesn't do too badly when it comes to the water but it is a hobby, not a sport. Basketball, football and baseball, in that order, are sports. Ducky had had the nerve to introduce him to soccer during one slow workday a few years back, when he was still green and freshly planted in Gibbs's Garden. He'd finished his reports in his eagerness to prove he was worthy and what had he received in return?

Soccer with Ducky, down in the Morgue, where Gibbs declared he could "learn a thing or two". It turned out that soccer was annoyingly addictive. He even watches some games by himself now and then, and occasionally kicks the ball around with some of the kids in his building. Soccer isn't a sport to him, though. It is a hobby, like swimming.

Maybe because they both started with the letter 's' -

He knows he's really in trouble when the theme from 'Sesame Street' starts looping through his head.

And if I'm having trouble, how is McGee coping?

Tony doesn't know if his decision has saved anyone today - except, perhaps, for little Katie Garvey, if the cold water hasn't already claimed her life. He doesn't know. He just doesn't know. She might be fine. She might be dead. It's impossible to know anything from where he is right now.

Damn.

His eyes are suddenly drawn to his left wrist and the watch he always wears. It is a normal watch, fortunately with waterproof qualities. There are no special James Bond gadgets inside that he can summon with the press of a button, which is a shame. He can use all the help he can get right now. As he bobs helplessly away from land and towards Reagan National Airport, one clear thought descends upon him like an extra rush of adrenaline. It isn't the thought of a completely coherent mind, not after what he's been through lately. Not with the shock of Kate's death and chasing Ari and him nearly dying to protect Katie Garvey. Not with the beating he has suffered at the hands of Federico Rossi.

Not with the spectre of the Plague languishing on the sidelines, filing her nails and smiling as the river pummels him.

It doesn't matter whether or not the thought is even accurate or plausible.

Magnum stayed alive by treading water in the ocean for almost twenty-four hours. If he can survive that long, so can I.

This isn't Hawaii, the water is freezing, it isn't the Fourth of July, and there is no shark he can name 'Herman', but otherwise, he figures it's just like 'Home From the Sea', one of his favourite episodes of Magnum, P.I..

He can work with that.

He checks his watch and starts timing how long he can tread water before he has to take a break and submerge.

The minutes slide by. The clouds finally make a choice and thunder rolls over the river.

Tony is under the surface when the rain starts but he can feel the thunder pass through his body. He can barely keep his face above the waves when he comes up for air this time. He's tired and the rain pricks him like a spill of sewing pins. It isn't serious yet, not a heavy downpour, but it doesn't have to be. He has water above and water below and he's going to drown.

He checks his watch and just the action of moving his arm sends him under before he is ready. He's shivering and can feel his lungs object to the exposure. No part of his body is happy, but his lungs -

Doctor Pitt had warned him. Doctor Pitt had been very firm about the cold and the damp and how he'd have to make sure he took every precaution to guard against infection. Bronchitis and pneumonia are not his friends, even though they circle him now like wary animals. The Plague is laughing.

Tony decides to call it 'Herman'. She won't like that. He doesn't know why he thinks of the plague as female, though it probably says something about his psyche.

He hated psychology. It had been a necessary evil in his first year of college, a 'squishy' course to expand his possibilities, or so the counsellors said. All he can remember is that Freud needed help dealing with his hostility towards his father, and it was a sad day when he discovered he could relate to him on some level.

He kicks free of the river's hold once more and shakes his head. The water caresses his ears. He can't seem to think of a female name, though, so 'Herman' will have to do. Being afraid is unfortunate, but having a nameless fear is worse.

"You can't have me, Herman," he whispers hoarsely at the rain. The Plague tightens her hold on his chest as the sky unleashes the storm.

Now it is pelting small stones instead of pins.

Tony consults his watch. He thinks it's only been fifteen minutes since he entered the water but he could be wrong. He wonders what the usual response time is for water rescue on the Potomac River. Wonders how many people are hurrying in the rain while Gibbs yells at them to get their shit together. Wonders if the paramedics have been able to save Katie.

They couldn't save Kate Todd. A bullet through the head is what it is: a mortal wound, an instant death. He recalls her flinching with crystal clarity. He hadn't realized at the time why. It was only when her blood sprayed across the right side of his face, when she fell, her sightless eyes staring up at the blue, blue sky, only then -

The paramedics arrived to place her in a body bag and escort her to Ducky's Morgue. She'd actually visited him down there willingly to watch soccer on a few occasions, much to the good doctor's delight. Her brothers were fans of the game.

Shit.

He submerges once more. The water can't take away the smell of Kate's blood. It is a strong memory that he'll probably have for the rest of his life - though at the moment, he doesn't honestly know how much longer he has remaining. The water has numbed him to the point where he almost can't feel the cold anymore. It caresses his skin like silk.

Can't let go. Magnum didn't let go -

Why is he fighting so hard to live? He never thought that question would enter his mind. What will he get when all this is over? The satisfaction of a job well done? Sure. Justice will be served and he'll move on to the next challenge. Gibbs might smack the back of his head for letting go of the life ring. Will he praise him for his efforts? He doesn't know. McGee might not talk to him for a week because he was ordered into the river and his PDA was destroyed. Abby will hug him because he is safe then lecture him for worrying her.

He isn't like Gary Cooper. He doesn't have a steady girlfriend - or any girlfriend at the moment - never mind a wife like Grace Kelly to greet him when all this is through. Why does he bother? He knows he isn't the easiest person to get along with. His inability to commit existed long before he met Leroy Jethro Gibbs, but that man is an additional warning. He gave his heart to someone only to have her try to crack his skull with a golf club.

It isn't worth the risk. Flirting is too much fun. He just hasn't found the right person yet. He doesn't want to get hurt. He likes his heart where it is, and he likes his skull intact.

He opens his eyes under the water and stares at the darkness. He didn't think it would end like this. He thought he'd die fighting the bad guys. He carried a gun so he'd be able to protect people and be the willing sidekick for Justice. If his time came while he was on the clock, making a difference, then so be it.

Tony never pictured his death in the water. It was always on land, during a shoot out or shielding someone from an explosion. He'd die doing something he believed in, something he couldn't screw up.

Flailing like an injured fish isn't how he pictured it at all.

Dangerous Rossi and Crazy Stacey and Mitch the Evil NCIS Mole are beyond his care. They will be dealt with or not and he has no say on the matter. He suspects there was more death once Gibbs and the posse reached the van but he doesn't know who died. If he was a gambling man - which he isn't, except with his life, 24/7, but that doesn't count - he'd place his money on Rossi going down.

Typical, gloating, bully type-A male. Kate would've enjoyed kicking his ass.

Idly, Tony hopes Kate thought of him like one of her own brothers, even though he didn't play soccer. It would've been nice to have a sister like her.

He glides to the surface and gulps some air, almost like it doesn't matter, then submerges once more. He thinks of Katie Garvey and her love for 'The Little Mermaid' and wonders if Princess Ariel is in the neighbourhood and can pull him to shore. Maybe he could sprout gills like Harry Potter. Sure, why not? Anything is possible -

Is it possible, Anthony, his father's voice states calmly, for you to disappoint me any further? Or are you quite, quite done now?

Tony thrashes into the air, swallows some more water and tries not to panic. He isn't going to die like this, with his father's words mocking him, with 'Herman' laughing at him.

Not like this.

He starts the front crawl again, arms like lead, every stroke a word, part of a mantra: Not. Like. This. Not. Like. This. He is still making very little progress but it doesn't matter. He's moving, he's alive, and he's not going to surrender his life to the river.

Grace Kelly is out there, somewhere, waiting to meet him, and he's damned if he's going to let her down.

There is a hum in the air, a distant droning that builds to a roar until it's almost on top of him. He panics when something wraps around his waist, irrationally thinking of the giant squid from '20,000 Leagues Under the Sea'.

"We've got you, Mr. DiNozzo," a man's gruff voice says, shouting to be heard over the pounding rain. It sounds nothing like his father. His hands push weakly at the arms around him. "Relax, you're okay, we've got you!"

"Have to keep swimming," he says through chattering teeth. He's pulled onto a yellow surface and another pair of strong arms wraps him in a heavy blanket. The dinghy moves with the river, flexing beneath them. There are two men with him wearing rain slickers but they're already soaked. Through sheets of water behind them, Tony can make out lights and the shape of a powerboat. As it moves closer, he can barely recognize the words 'U.S. Coast Guard' on the side.

Tony smiles. Just in the nick of time, he thinks, and then asks aloud, "Did you know I've had the plague?"

His vision tunnels and the startled faces of his rescuers fade to black.

To Be Continued…