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A/N Absolutely overwhelmed by your kind reviews and alerts, L

When The Snow Lay Round About

Chapter Two

The severe snowstorm that had been forecast for Maryland later that evening had been preceded by heavy fog and low visibility that had resulted in a major traffic accident on I-68. With an estimated forty vehicles involved, police and emergency services units had called for military assistance to help free the victims from the wreckage and transport the injured to hospital as soon as possible.

Knocking quietly on the door of the director's office, McGee turned the handle and waited to be invited in. Vance gestured for the younger man to enter and then returned his attention to his telephone conversation. McGee's gaze shifted to Gibbs who was standing in front of the plasma screen watching the live news coverage of the accident.

"I spoke with MSP, Boss," he said. "Due to the accident, they won't have any available units to check the coordinates of Tony's cell for several hours."

"You sure DiNozzo's not caught up in that?" Gibbs asked jerking a thumb at the carnage on the screen.

"Unlikely. The accident occurred between Frostburg and Cumberland. The signal from Tony's cell is coming from the other side of Cumberland, at least twenty miles from there. But there's something else…"

As the director joined them, McGee paused until he'd received a nod to continue.

"I got a hit on my BOLO," he told them. "The Garrett County Sheriff located a body just out of Deep Creek Lake. Face is unrecognisable but…the driver's licence says Eddie Muldoon."

"DiNozzo's informant?" Vance asked.

He watched as a hint of emotion flashed across his lead agent's face, disappearing as his professional detachment returned and he nodded curtly.

"There's a Navy Knighthawk gearing up at Anacostia," the director told them. "It has orders to help with the evacuation of people injured on the interstate. They've agreed to get you to Hancock where there'll be a car waiting for you. Go. Keep me informed."

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After several minutes spent slipping, sliding and cursing down the mountainside, the two gunmen made it safely to the bottom. They walked watchfully toward the inert body sprawled just a few yards away. This man had played possum once before and Gianni Rosetti's lack of caution had cost him his life.

"Jesus," the reed-thin Mickey Kane gasped. "Is he dead?"

Frank Coffey moved closer, grimacing at the macabre sight of Tony's bloodied right foot. The rusted steel jaws of a bear-trap had snapped shut just above the agent's ankle, slicing through tissue and muscle and snapping the bones like dry twigs. Only the metal spacers prevented the jaws from closing completely and severing the foot. He narrowed his dark eyes and watched the agent's chest until he detected its shallow rise and fall.

"He's not dead yet," Coffey replied raising his handgun, taking aim at the unconscious man's head.

"Wait!" Kane said taking hold of the man's arm.

"You know why we're here, Mickey," Coffey replied. "The guy's half dead anyway. May as well put him out of his misery."

"You pull that trigger and you'll kill a fed. That's a capital crime," Kane argued. "Look around you, Frank…we're in the middle of freakin' nowhere. The fog's already settled and there's a snowstorm coming. I'm not gonna face the death penalty for killing a fed when we can walk away and let him expire all by himself…"

The larger man considered for a long moment before he holstered his weapon and nodded his agreement.

"What about Gianni?"

"There's nothing we can do about him," Kane reasoned. "We'll bury him in the snow and by the time they find the body we'll be long gone."

"Let's get out of here."

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Arriving at Anacostia Naval Air Station, Gibbs and McGee were quickly kitted out with extreme cold weather parkas, trousers and RAT boots and were each provided with a fully equipped survival pack. They climbed aboard the Knighthawk buckling themselves into their seats, donning their helmets and activating their communication devices.

"Agent Gibbs," the young Naval officer said. "Our orders are to drop you at Potomac Airpark before carrying on to assist with the evacuation of the injured. We only have a small window of opportunity before the storm forces us to set down. Sorry we can't help you look for your agent, Sir."

"Understood, Commander."

"Sir, if you give me the coordinates of the last position your agent signaled from, once we drop you off we'll fly this bird over the site. See if we can spot anything."

"Appreciate that, Skipper," Gibbs replied. "What's our ETA?"

"We're flying into extreme headwinds, Sir. ETA is at least an hour."

A cold feeling of doom tried to settle in Gibbs' gut, but he shoved it aside.

'Hang on, Tony,' he thought as the helicopter lifted off. 'We're coming for you.'

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As he lay there, gasping and shivering, Tony gradually became aware that the persistent buzz in his head was the sound of his own moaning. Opening his eyes he took a moment to focus them and then, confused, he blinked rapidly as large damp snowflakes impaled themselves on his long eyelashes and landed on his face. It took another moment for his brain to engage enough for him to realise that he was looking skyward, watching the huge soft flakes drift down from an overcast sky.

The memory of being pursued returned and crashed over him like a tsunami. He heaved his shoulders upward causing a spear of pure agony to shoot up his leg. The pain, too enormous for his brain to process, exploded into brilliant, multi-coloured sparks behind his eyes. As he clung to consciousness by a thread, a strangled cry spilled from him; a mere shadow of the scream that wouldn't come.

Collapsing back onto the snow, excruciating pain pulsed with every beat of his heart until his entire body was haloed in a red haze of agony. He saw his leg trapped in the steel jaws of a forty-pound bear trap and gasped at the sight of his blood soaked into his jeans from the calf down. Gritting his teeth, he attempted to wriggle his toes and a tortured moan worked its way free. While the pain was unbearable at least he knew his foot was still attached.

Looking around, he spotted two sets of tracks leading to and away from his position and already starting to disappear with the falling snow. He reasoned that his pursuers had likely found him and left him for dead. Pain and panic overwhelmed him as his eyes followed the heavy chain attached to one end of the trap and staked firmly into the trunk of a large oak tree. His heart hammered against his sternum as he drew his Sig and took aim at the base of the stake, firing frantically until the firing pin clicked on the empty chamber. Mindful not to move his leg, Tony grabbed the chain with both hands, pulling as hard as he could. But after several long minutes of exhaustive pulling the stake remained firmly embedded in the tree trunk.

With a laugh that sounded more than a little hysterical, Tony realised that if the trap had been designed to hold a four hundred pound bear, he had no chance of breaking free. He felt his eyes flood with helpless raging tears. Swallowing the knotted misery in his throat, his breath caught in a sob and he clamped his lips to deny it life. Clenching his teeth, he forced himself to calm.

"Now would b-be good, B-boss," he whispered, shivering uncontrollably.

He caught movement in his peripheral vision and brandished his empty weapon in that direction as a young man in his early twenties gasped loudly, screwed his eyes tightly closed and placed his hands over his ears. Dark-haired, tall and broad shouldered, the young man stood stock-still.

"Don't shoot me, don't shoot me, don't shoot me," he repeated over and over.

"S'kay…I'm not…not going t-to shoot you," Tony said, re-holstering his Sig. "I need your help…"

The man opened one eye and then the other before crossing his arms across his chest in a self-hug and rocking his body in an anxious motion. Wide brown eyes met Tony's for an instant before he looked at the bear trap, frowned and ran away.

"No! D-don't g-go!" Tony pleaded.

Momentarily distracted, he moved his leg and an explosion of pain took his breath away. When he was finally able to draw air back into his lungs, it was expelled in an agonized scream as the pain fractured all thoughts. Blood was pumping furiously in his ears and he had to strain to hear anything else. Unconsciousness beckoned but he fought it with everything he had. He glanced skyward with a look of dread, knowing the clouds gathering above him were preparing to unload their wintry burden. Idly he wondered whether blood loss or hypothermia would kill him first.

"N-nice to have a ch-choice," he laughed humourlessly.

For the next twenty minutes Tony called for help and desperately tried to extricate himself from the trap but every method he tried provoked excruciating pain as the cold metal teeth sunk deeper into his leg flesh. Half out of his head in pain and desperation, he buried his foot in the snow until he could no longer feel it. Removing his scarf, he tied it just below his knee and used a nearby stick to twist it as tight as he could stand. Filling his lungs with the frigid mountain air he forced his grief and impotent rage deep inside where they belonged…and then he reached for his belt and unsheathed his knife.

0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0

Carrying their heavy survival packs by the straps, Gibbs and McGee ran at a crouch to avoid the rotor-blades of the Knighthawk as it dropped them at Potomac Airpark and lifted off again, heading for the pile-up on the 68.

The agents looked up to see a man wearing a thick parka and earmuffs gesturing them over. Guy Sanders was the on-duty supervisor at Potomac Airpark and he had been assigned with coordinating the rescue aircraft. Having taken a call earlier from Director Vance, Sanders led the agents to a light coloured SUV and helped them stow their gear in the back. Gibbs noted that the snow-chains had already been fitted.

"They may slow your speed but the roads are icy and once that snow-storm hits you'll never get out without them," he told them.

True to his word, the commander of the Knighthawk flew to the coordinates of the faint signal still being emitted from Tony's cell and reported seeing a dark SUV approximately twenty yards down the side of the mountain. Due to the thick fog cover and the building storm, the crew of the chopper could see little else and were forced to move on. Sanders produced a map of the area and marked Tony's crash-site with a large X.

"Director Vance said you believe your agent is badly injured," Sanders said.

"He'd have made contact if he wasn't," Gibbs replied.

"Then I hope he stayed with the vehicle," Sanders said turning back to the map and making another mark. "There's a few remote homes out there but the nearest is three miles back the way he came. It's well signposted so he may have noticed it…guess it depends on how observant he is."

"Tony's a crime scene investigator," McGee chimed in defensively.

Sanders held up both hands apologetically.

"Hey, I'm just saying, with the weather like it is and if he's badly hurt…he'd probably never make it back there."

"Who lives there?" Gibbs asked.

"The Gearys. Nice woman. Moved in with her husband and their boy a couple of years ago. The husband died not long after…heart attack as I recall."

The icy wind stepped up several notches as the snow drifted down from the heavens at a greater velocity.

"If the weather gets worse, you head for Mrs Geary's," Sanders continued. "She'll find you a room for the night. I'll give her a call, let her know to expect ya."

Nodding his thanks, Gibbs and McGee climbed into the car and headed out to look for their missing agent.

0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0

"Mister? Mister, wake up?" the young man called. "You gotta wake up now, Mister."

The distress in the voice and the irritating tapping against his cheek brought Tony slowly back from unconsciousness. Before he'd even opened his eyes, he felt the cold seeping through his clothes and the snow falling on his skin. He felt his knife in his gloved hand and frantically looked at his bloodied and broken foot still ensnared in the trap and, more importantly, still attached to his leg. A mixture of relief and cowardice washed over him as he realised he'd passed out before he could cut it off. Big, slow gasps of frigid air gave space for reason to return and as his vision cleared, he recognised the wide dark eyes of the young man leaning over him.

"You c-came back," Tony whispered.

The young man nodded soberly as he placed an old blanket over Tony's upper body.

"I needed my things," he replied. "I'm going to help you but you can't tell my Momma I was here, okay?"

The young man chewed his bottom lip anxiously as he waited for an answer.

"Your…your Momma?" Tony blinked heavily.

"Momma doesn't like me near the stream 'cause I can't swim," he continued as he inspected the trap. "But near the stream is where I find the best wood."

"The best wood-" Tony stared in confusion as his sluggish brain tried to make sense of the conversation.

Summoning his observation skills, he figured the young man to be at least six foot three with the powerful build of a linebacker…but something wasn't right. He hummed to himself and rocked gently back and forth as he rifled through a canvas bag. Realising that Tony had not answered his question, he raised his head and briefly met the agent's gaze before looking away self-consciously.

"You promise you won't tell?" he asked quietly.

"I won't tell," Tony rasped. "What's your n-name?"

"Sam. My name is Sam. I was named after my Dad," he said proudly.

"I'm Tony. I was named after my Dad, too," Tony replied through chattering teeth, as Sam's face lit up in a delighted smile. "Sam, I'm hurt pretty b-bad. I need you to find someone to get me out of this trap."

The smile on Sam's face disappeared as his face clouded over.

"Traps are bad," he said. "There's not supposed to be traps in the forest. Momma says traps are left by bad men."

Tony concentrated on keeping his leg as still as possible but his constant trembling was sending shafts of pain shooting through his body at regular intervals.

"Listen to me, Sam," Tony replied, struggling to remain calm as the snowfall became heavier. He unclipped his badge from his belt and gave it to the young man. "I need you to find someone…give them this badge and bring them back here."

"You're a policeman?"

"Yeah, Sam…I'm a policeman," Tony gasped through the pain.

"Momma says policemen are our friends."

"Your Mom's right..."

Sam's eyes grew impossibly wide and his jaw dropped open.

"I've never had a friend before," he whispered reverently. "Momma says it's because I'm different."

Gingerly, Tony managed to sit up despite the pain and nausea the movement caused. He extended his hand to Sam, surprised by the strength and firmness in the young man's grip.

"I'll be your friend, Sam," Tony said as the wind bit cruelly through the blanket draped around him. "But right now, I need you to find someone to open this trap."

"I told you, silly, I can open the trap," Sam insisted, producing two C-clamps from his bag. "Sometimes I find animals in traps like this one and I use my clamps to help them."

"That…that works?" Tony asked skeptically.

"Sure!" Sam replied then chewed his lip again as tears filled his wide brown eyes. "But sometimes they're hurt too bad and they die. I don't want you to die, Tony. "

The agent looked at the ominous clouds overhead - he didn't want to die either.

"Storm's almost here, Sam…let's do this."

Sam carefully positioned the C-clamps over the large springs on either end of the trap and nodded solemnly to Tony as he slowly began to tighten them. As the metal jaws reluctantly started to separate, traumatised and severed nerve endings started to spasm. Tony gritted his teeth and suffered, mostly, in silence as his fingernails dug into the palms of his fisted hands. Once the trap was opened wide enough, Sam stopped tightening the clasps and looked at Tony with tear-filled eyes.

"Don't pull. Okay, Tony?" he said with the haunted look of a man who had seen what could happen. "Just don't pull."

Unable to find his voice, Tony nodded, watching as the young man bravely placed his hands inside the jaws of the trap and gently freed Tony's foot. The grind of bone on bone sent agony shooting through his leg as his boot filled with blood and pain pulled the air from his lungs. He tried to scream but couldn't make a sound as spots danced across his vision and everything became a mixed up jumble of colour and sound.

Tony felt himself lifted easily onto the young man's broad shoulders and carried in a fireman's hold. His body jostled agonisingly as Sam stumbled under the added weight, murmuring frantically to himself over and over. Panic took hold of him and Tony tried to lift his head to confirm he still had both feet attached. But the ground seemed to surge up then sink down with every step Sam took and a hot wave of nausea crested over him. Disoriented and with his head imploding with pain…this time when the darkness beckoned he gladly tumbled into it.

0—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-0

The trip from Hancock was frustratingly slow and tedious due to the worsening snowfall and the 30mph restriction of the snow chains but despite the overcast conditions, the break in the guardrail was easily located. Parking the vehicle by the side of the road and switching the hazard lights on, Gibbs and McGee cautiously made their way down to Tony's SUV. A sickening feeling of dread coiled tightly in the former Marine's gut he rounded the vehicle and found it empty.

Tony's cell was on the floor on the passenger side of the car, still attached to the charger and the driver's airbag had engaged. Although he should have been relieved, Gibbs took no consolation in the fact that the only evidence of his agent's blood was a minute amount on the deflated airbag.

"Boss," McGee called from the rear. "Looks like the windows were shot out and the car was rammed from behind."

"Dammit," Gibbs cursed vehemently under his breath. "Spread out. Take a look around."

McGee held his tongue. They both knew the heavy snowfall would have obliterated any tracks but he pulled the hood of his parka over his head and set out, calling Tony's name and hoping for a miracle. He hadn't gone more than forty feet when he stumbled over the uneven ground and fell face first into the snow. A cold foreboding crawled up his spine and he brushed the snow from a small mound and then scrambled away in horror as he uncovered a body.

"Boss!" McGee called.

He heard the crunching of the thinly crusted snow as Gibbs made his way quickly to his side and took a knee beside the body. He placed a supportive hand on Tim's shoulder.

"It's not Tony," he said, somehow knowing without looking.

They uncovered the rest of the body and rolled him onto his back to make the identification.

"Gianni Rosetti," McGee said, raising his voice over the increased howl of the wind. "We weren't told he was back in the country. Should've known he'd come looking for Tony."

"Double-tap to the heart," Gibbs said. "Tony found him first."

The agents struggled against the buffeting winds as they rose to their feet. They continued the search for their missing teammate; calling his name and straining their ears for any response. They walked for twenty minutes, awkwardly wading through snow that came up to their knees but finding no evidence or tracks.

"Boss!" McGee called, reaching out to grab the lead agents shoulder. "Boss, it's no use! We'll never find him in this storm. We have to go back! We need to find shelter."

Gibbs' face remained expressionless but a myriad of emotions flickered in his eyes. He looked at the younger man, noting his reddened eyes and nose, the bluish tinge to his lips and the start of windburn on his pale cheeks. Although his heart insisted they continue to search, his head could not risk the life of one agent to save another. Swallowing convulsively around the lump in his throat, Gibbs' resolve faltered briefly before he found his voice.

"We'll go back."

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A/N ~ I hope you enjoyed that chapter - thanks for reading.

May 2013 fill your home with joy, your heart with love & your life with laughter. Happy New Year! L