Author's note: Truth or Consequences missing scene. No 'ships. This piece is a look into Gibbs' thoughts leading up to a certain 'do or die' moment…or more accurately 'do or someone else dies'.

He lay in his sniper's perch on a sandy, brush covered ridge. Gibbs checked the view through the scope; satisfied the prisoners were still alone. He pulled back long enough to rub the grit from his eyes and blinked several times to clear his vision.

Gibbs used the opportunity to check his weapon again. He pulled a soft cloth from his pack to wipe the dust from his rifle and clean the sight; something he'd done countless times while lying here. He was no longer sure of how much time had passed since he concealed himself. A couple days maybe?

His movements were practiced; second nature, but they hid an inner turmoil. Yes; it had been a couple days since he'd reported the capture of his men and selected the prime spot for his sniper's nest. Then he began his vigil. Watching the camp in the distance…and waiting.

It gave him too much time to think, to second guess himself about the chain of events that led them here. Ever since their "boots on the ground" fact finding mission had gone terribly wrong, the doubt was there lurking in the background, a knot in his chest and companion to the lead weight of anxiety churning his stomach. Both had taken residence as soon as Tony and McGee had been attacked from out of the blue, subdued and taken prisoner when he was too far away to prevent it. Maybe he should never have allowed the mission to happen.

The warm metal and wood of the familiar weapon under his hands comforted him. He was grateful some sense of trouble on the horizon told him he should bring it along. He thought back to when they boarded the military flight to Dubai, the staging location for their incursion into Somalia. Tony had recognized the soft, padded case slung over his shoulder immediately, and knew exactly what was within.

~N~

"Huh," Tony smirked. "I don't recall seeing that among the gear we checked out from the armory. Vance know you brought a little something extra along?"

Gibbs smirked back. "I must've forgotten to mention it to him."

Tony went still. "You know something we don't, Boss?" he'd asked, his expression no longer amused, but serious and intent.

Gibbs didn't miss the change, nor what it meant. The mission at hand was Tony's show; he'd done the legwork and made the case to Vance that NCIS had to investigate Saleem Ullman's terror training camp before he targeted the agency. This Tony wasn't about to accept one of Gibbs' cryptic replies; but more than that, he deserved a straight answer.

Gibbs shook his head reassuringly. "Just a little extra insurance."

Tony studied his face for several seconds, then the tension left his body as soon as it had appeared.

Tony gave a satisfied nod. "I'm not about to argue with that logic."

~N~

Gibbs resumed watching through the scope, grateful for the weapon that served to give him his only link to Tony and McGee. It was also potentially the difference between life and death, whether they came home with him alive or in a box. The possibility weighed on him heavily.

He paid little mind to the dry desert heat and the heaviness of the camouflaging ghillie suit that helped blend him into his surroundings. Stifling, oppressive heat came with the territory and he ignored the discomfort. He stretched and flexed his limbs as much as he could from the prone position. He wanted to rise and stretch properly but he didn't dare. When the right time came, he had to be ready for it, not caught out of position like some damn amateur.

For the past half hour or so, there'd been a sudden flurry of activity around the camp. Saleem's men appeared to be preparing to pull up stakes and move. He cursed inwardly, realizing something must have spooked them and he feared what that meant for their prisoners. He'd radioed an update to the Marine force standing by not far away, and went back to watching and waiting.

He'd always had an uncanny ability to assess the situation, and instinctively know when the moment had come to put his rifle to use. It was one of the qualities that had made him an elite military sniper; a cut above the rest. He didn't feel that solid confidence in his abilities now. For the first time he could ever remember, fear ate away at the edges of his composure; at his ability to trust his instincts, and it was disconcerting.

Gibbs had almost fired when Saleem injected Tony with God knew what, mainly out of fear and outrage. He'd suppressed the concern and fury; managed to win the battle and maintain his self-control. Then his gut had gone quiet and he was unsure about his decision to wait. Had he just lost the chance to gain control of the situation and give the Marines a better chance at rescue?

They might not know about Ziva being there if he had fired at that point; she hadn't been moved to the room yet. Ziva was alive. Examining that little development further could wait. Saleem had just returned to the room and Gibbs got the distinct sense from observing him that the time for watching was almost over.

Being a sniper was all about patience and timing, and he'd been damn good at it. One wouldn't know it by his bearing as lead of the MCRT, where his impatience and short fuse were a well-known part of his work persona. He was a different person here. At least, he was supposed to be. He should be stoic and dispassionate but he found himself unable to stay in that disconnected head space.

Ullman wasn't exactly a military target and he didn't present some vague, intangible danger to some unnamed person or group. This man was a direct threat to NCIS. More importantly in this moment he was a threat to Tony more than the others, thanks to his protégé's success at keeping Saleem focused almost entirely on himself. Tense now, the situation could turn volatile again in an instant. Gibbs didn't dare abandon his view through the scope for even a brief moment.

He felt those flickers of uncertainty again as he watched. This was no time for a crisis of confidence, yet he seemed to be having one just the same. Once he fired there was no turning back. He'd be revealing his position for one thing. More importantly, he and the Marine force waiting nearby would only have seconds to get down into the camp before the terrorists realized what was happening, and moved up their timetable to execute the prisoners.

Dammit to hell.

Things had just gotten desperate in that room. McGee, seemingly reacting to some signal from Tony, knocked Saleem off his feet and scrambled for a dropped weapon. He didn't make it. Saleem pointed a gun at McGee and just as Gibbs started to apply pressure to the trigger to prevent McGee's execution, he saw Tony desperately trying to pull Saleem's attention back to himself.

Something Tony said worked. Saleem turned away from McGee and approached Tony, gun held threateningly. The man was totally engrossed in whatever magic Tony was weaving with his gift of gab. Gibbs fervently wished he could see his agent's face, instead of the others' faces, and relying on reading their lips alone. Tony had no way to know he wasn't on his own, none of them did. That might make him risk another desperate bid for freedom. If only Gibbs could see his face, he'd know what Tony was thinking and when to act himself.

Saleem was beginning to looked pissed again, Gibbs' chest tightened painfully as he watched. Ziva looked increasingly panicked and fearful. She unsuccessfully attempted to bargain with the terrorist while McGee tried to stealthily inch his way toward the knife Saleem had dropped in their brief struggle. Gibbs rolled his shoulders to relieve some of the tension and adjusted his sight, still unsure whether to take the shot or call the Marines in.

Saleem edged closer to the chair where Tony was bound and loomed over him menacingly. Suddenly Gibbs knew with certainty it wasn't the team of Marines waiting nearby that was going to save the day. It was all on him….him, and the rifle he hadn't taken to a range for target practice in far too long. The stakes were personal and high; unimaginably high.

He couldn't wait. Both his agents, his son figures, were about to die unless he acted to stop it. First, the much loved eldest with whom he'd already been through so much. Then the youngest, who'd come into his own under Tony's unique form of mentorship, would follow. And Ziva? Who knew what would happen. She was dead to them, had been for months. Maybe she still was, depending on the circumstances that landed her in that camp. That wasn't important now. There was time to get his head around her return from the dead later, if he got them all out.

He'd chosen Tony over her before, and he was going to do it again if it came down to that. Ultimately, it was her own choices that landed them all here and it wasn't her life on the line in this second, it was Tony's.

As he followed his target and his focus narrowed on that one point in space where he needed to aim, everything he'd been feeling cascaded. Doubt had been a sleeping giant, now wide awake and trying to crush him under its weight. The fatigue and stiffness from lying in the same position for so long; thirst and the oppressive heat made worse by the ghillie suit. The fear of failure and losing people he cared about. The knowledge he'd be the one planning Tony's funeral when he'd already attended too damn many. All of it rushed in at once. It was nearly crippling.

Ziva was looking at Tony in confused disbelief; maybe even a little hope. Tony must have spun a whopper, because Saleem was staring down at him too, momentarily stunned into inaction.

Was it time? Tony's life depended on his split second decision to shoot. If he missed…

Now or never, he told himself. Now.

Instinct took over.

He fired.

~End~