AN: Sorry for the delay. In addition to finals, I am dealing with a cold and migraines. I can only do what I can right now. Things are getting wild, and I'm having some fun with Dunham and Wilson. I need to intersperse some fun with the heaviness or the weight of this story will crash down on all of us. Tell me what you think, Please! sheila

P.S. Chances are you have never seen Buckaroo Bunzai, a movie from 1984, but it is tremendous fun, and once I thought about it, I couldn't let go. It is referenced heavily in this chapter. You can watch it a thousand times, and find something new to laugh at every time. How can you not love a movie where the earth has been overrun by aliens all named John and the chief alien is John Lithgow playing John Whorfin with a really bad Italian accent. On youtube, type in Buckaroo Banzai end credits, and you will see the best ending credits ever, IMO. Type in Buckaroo Banzai John Whorfin, and you will see John Bigboote' saying his name. It's hilarious.

Surviving Winter

Chapter 11

Abby woke up when she felt the body and then a mouth breathing on her neck. It was something of a surprise to find that Ziva was in her bed with her, an arm wrapped around her shoulder, her head lying on Abby's shoulder. Abby blinked the sleep out of her eyes, "Ziva?"

Ziva's head shot up. "I came to see you and got tired. Needed a batnap. I knew you wouldn't mind. You know that nobody thinks I know how to be an emotional support. They were very reluctant to leave you with me."

"What are you talking about?"

Ziva sighed. "This morning, Gibbs got permission to go to Afghanistan to see if he could find McGee. We were on MTAC with Colonel Winter and Sec Nav. Sec Nav told Winter he had to help Gibbs in whatever way he needed."

Abby teared up. "He's going to find Tim?"

Ziva patted her cheek. "I don't know for sure, but I do know that Gibbs is going to do what he has to find out what happened to Tim, and if it's possible, he's going to bring his body home."

Abby nodded. "I was confused for awhile. I thought if I wished hard enough, he would come back."

"I know, Abby. I know what it's like to wish for something like that so hard. That happened to me after my sister, Talia, was killed. I kept seeing her. I convinced myself that she could come back. It was very sad."

"Then you know that I'm not going crazy," Abby blinked her large green eyes at her.

Ziva kissed her on the cheek. "I know. You just needed a break."

"I think you're good at emotional support."

Ziva nodded. "I am very good at this. You'll be sure to tell them, won't you?"

Abby nodded. "Gibb didn't go alone, did he?"

"No, he took Ducky, and then I stepped in and told him that Tony needed to go too."

"You did?"

"Gibbs is carrying such a burden of guilt. He's so sad. Gibbs can still do almost anything, but he needed Tony; I could feel it in my bones. And Tony needed it too. He's really lost without his…probie. Plus, Tony has enough wild energy in him to make just about anything happen."

"You didn't want to go?"

Ziva nodded. "I did, but we have to keep an eye on Hussain's group. There is a chance he'll come to town, and Fornell and I will be ready for him when he does. Plus, I didn't want to leave you alone here."

"I'm ready to face reality now."

"I know, Achot. The doctor says you can come home with me in two days."

"You want me to come home with you?"

Ziva cocked her dark head. "You'll not have me wait alone for them to return, will you?"

Abby grinned. "Okay, you got me."

Ziva hugged her fiercely. "Good!" She slid off the bed. "I'm on night surveillance tonight. Gotta' go."

"Thanks, Ziva. Thanks for knowing that I'm going to be okay."

Ziva turned at the door and looked at Abby again. "I don't suppose anyone has told you that Tim's four Marines have been rescued and are currently recuperating two floors above you."

Abby sat up. "Seriously!"

"I imagine Gibbs didn't want to stress you. He asked me to visit them and tell them that Gibbs has gone to find the truth. It's past visiting hours tonight. I could go tomorrow night unless you might want to go. I will be quite busy tomorrow."

Abby stared at her, mouth open.

"Think about it, Achot. If it is not right for you, call me, and I will make sure it is done."

…

McGee woke that morning with the same headache and chest pain that had been plaguing him since Sgt. Tilson took him from the clinic. He was almost certain that one of his ribs hadn't set back in the clinic. There was a deep pain radiating from the lower right quadrant of his chest. He also wondered about pneumonia. Coughing spasms had gotten so bad that he'd passed out from the pain of them. He could feel fever rising in his cheeks most afternoons, and his sheets were always from the fever breaking in the night. He was starting to lose track of where they were. They travelled, commanders would set him up in communications huts, McGee tracked signals, troops were set out, and Tilson would put him back in the MRAP and they would head off in another direction.

The pain in his head was deep and throbbing, and he lay back down and looked up at the canvas roof of the hut. There was no use in trying to go back to sleep. Lying down inspired more coughing. Besides, Tilson would be in, and he suffered no nonsense. When that old sergeant wanted him up, it was useless to argue. He slowly groaned his way into a sitting position, taking time to hold his breath until the pain settled. He rubbed at his dirty face. The last time he'd been clean was sometime back when he was at the clinic; he was unsure how many days ago it had been.

The mute Sgt. Tilson came into the hut with an MRE and a glass of something orange. It dawned on McGee that he was holding orange juice. McGee looked up at him, "Orange juice?"

"There's a Lieutenant Gomez in the mess who's hoarding it. I thought I would liberate a bit for you."

McGee winced. "You stole orange juice for me?"

Tilson grunted. "You haven't perked up or nothing despite all the pills I'm giving you."

McGee blinked. Tilson used as many words in those last two sentences that he'd heard out of him in their entire acquaintance. "I'm still sick, Sergeant. I am not getting better because I have not healed."

Tilson frowned. "That's pretty obvious."

McGee shook his head. "You don't understand. I need to see a doctor. I think I might have pneumonia. I might have a bad rib still."

"I gave you pills that should've healed all that."

McGee struggled to stay patient. "The pills didn't work. I need to see a doctor, Sergeant."

"Winter's got you on a mission."

McGee swung an arm in the air. "Doing what? Am I helping to find those Marines? Tell me 'cause I have no idea right now what I'm doing. We're all over the map, Sergeant. I have no idea what's going on."

Tilson frowned. "A soldier's job, Lieutenant, isn't to question the big picture."

"I'm not Lieutenant Thomas! You know that! I'm a frickin' civilian, Sergeant! I'm Timothy McGee and I need to talk to Winter!"

"He's a busy man, Lieutenant. Doesn't have time for your coughing problems."

McGee sighed as deeply as his chest allowed. "I need a doctor, Tilson. Winter wants you to keep me alive, doesn't he?"

"Those are my orders."

"You said yourself that I'm not perking up despite the valiant efforts you've put into my recovery; what with the orange juice and the pills and everything. I think we're going to need another x-ray, Sergeant."

Tilson thought for a moment. "I'm going to go see what I can do, Lieutenant Thomas."

McGee nodded wearily and then reached for the orange juice with shaky hands as the old sergeant disappeared out of the hut.

…..

Gibbs understood the Marines as intimately as he understood building boats so when they sat in the Processing Center and waited as Staff Sergeants argued over their possible quarters, he knew there was nothing to do but sit and wait. DiNozzo and Ducky sat with him, Tony taking the opportunity for another nap on Ducky's shoulder.

An hour later, Ducky had also given into slumber, leaning against Tony's head on his shoulder. Gibbs let part of a warm smile slip when he saw the two of them snoring. It reminded him that he still had many precious parts of his life worth protecting.

There was a little scuffle at the door, and Gibbs turned to see two bearded men argue their way past the sentries and come trotting in his direction. They both wore bright green Amnesty International t-shirts with the words, Justice for Dunham, written in red marker on the front. Gibbs shook his head as they approached. "Dunham, I thought they'd kicked you out of here by now."

Dunham shushed him. "I'm carrying new ID now. Wilson and I are living off the grid."

"You're wearing a t-shirt with your own name on it."

"I'm part of the committee to seek justice for Dunham, but I'm not Dunham. Dunham left Kabul two days ago. The members of Dunham's committee seek the first amendment rights stolen from Dunham when he confronted Winter. Amnesty International is considering a petition."

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Are you going to be of any use to us at all?"

"Damn straight, Gunny! Wilson and I have eyes and ears everywhere. We're hiding in plain sight. Nobody pays attention to nut jobs in a war zone. They're already dealing with too much nonsense. Ignoring us is the only way they can cope."

"That's not bad, Chad from Chad." Tony lifted his head.

"Hey DiNozzo! Good to see you there, ol' buddy!"

"Likewise, I think." Tony sat up.

"What say we go have a bite to eat while they sort out your billets? I reckon Winter left orders for you to be housed on top of a landmine or something. Staff Sergeants are probably just trying to work through the legality of it all."

Ducky awoke and eyed the two CIA operatives with some concern. "Are you sure we should leave the Processing Center, Jethro?"

Gibbs sighed. "They're probably the best intelligence we're going to get around here."

"Well, I'm hungry." Tony was up, hitching his backpack on his shoulder.

Gibbs shouldered his pack as well so Ducky sighed and gathered up his things and followed the two lime green shirts onto the streets of Kabul.

…

McGee sat on a sterile metal table, naked from the waist up. He knew he smelled sour and dirty, but the nurse made no mention of it. He hadn't seen his own chest since the first clinic, and it surprised him that evidence of bruising remained. The rest of his skin had taken on a distinctly yellowish cast. Tilson sat in the corner of the room, and glared at everyone coming in. McGee had tried several times to convince him that waiting outside was better, but Tilson was stubborn and ignored pretty much everything coming out of McGee's mouth.

A doctor came in and she attached the x-ray on the light box on the wall. McGee peered at it. There was a lot of haziness in both lobes particularly the right one. "What do you see, Doc?"

She shook her head. "The fact that you are still on your feet is amazing to me. You're full of pneumonia, and I think you have a partial lung collapse in your lower right lobe. I think a rib fragment did pierce the lung. Good diagnosis, Lieutenant."

McGee wanted to correct her, but Tilson sat there like a gargoyle staring down at them. "What do we do, Doc?"

"We put you to bed with a new set of antibiotics. You're also dehydrated and anemic. We'll do more tests to see if we can isolate the fragment. Hopefully, surgery is not indicated."

"Think this will take more than a day?" Tilson growled from his seat.

The doctor's eyes widened. "I'm thinking more like a week or two, depending on how his pneumonia responds to treatment. He'll probably need to recuperate stateside after that."

"We oughta' get back on the road," Tilson was on his feet.

"Who is your commanding officer, Sergeant? I'll need to talk with that person because the Lieutenant is going nowhere. I have the medical authority to shut this mission down right now."

McGee closed his eyes in relief.

"I'm on orders from Colonel Winter himself!"

"Sergeant!" McGee barked. "Put me on the phone with Winter, and I will work this out. I'm not backing out of anything, but I'm hardly any use to anyone in this condition. Just give me enough time to fight the infection. Then I'm all yours."

"I don't know," Tilson grumbled.

The doctor looked at one and then the other. "You do outrank him, Lieutenant."

McGee smiled wearily. "It's a complicated relationship, Doc. Do you think a nice, hot bath might be in my future?"

She smiled. "We're going to take good care of you, Lieutenant."

After she walked out, McGee looked at Tilson. "I'm no good to anyone if I'm dead, am I?"

"Going to need to talk to the Colonel." Tilson dug in his pockets for his phone.

….

"So what is your new name, Dunham?" Gibbs asked as he ate Afghani bread with lentils.

Dunham frowned and looked at Wilson who shrugged. Then he thought to pull out his wallet and look at it. He smiled. "I'm John Bigboote'."

Wilson pulled out his. "And I'm John Smallberries."

Tony chortled. "Oh my God! Are the two of you at all sober? The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension? You really think no one has seen that?"

Dunham looked at Ducky's and Gibbs' bewildered expressions. "So far, it's been checked twenty three times and you're the first one to notice. Most of these grunts weren't even born when the movie came out, but it also sort of helps if you don't say it out loud too much."

Gibbs frowned. "Why hasn't the agency burned you?"

"Director hates Winter. Took five days to get him to spring Chad here. He doesn't really care if we kick up a little dust around here. Plus, we're CIA. We're expected to go off the deep end from time to time. Stress reliever, you know. The agency makes allowances. The boss here knows what's going on. He would've bagged us by now, but we're doing it for McGee, and he knows enough of the story to know that something very off color is going on around here."

"If your name wasn't Bigboote', I'd kiss you on the mouth right now," Tony said.

"Guess we'll have to take a rain check on that offer, DiNozzo. Wished you looked more like Ziva though." Dunham said with a wink.

Tony frowned and Gibbs jumped in. "Alright! We get it! You two are as crazy as a pair of March hares, but do you know anything!"

Wilson got serious. "What we got, Gibbs, is oddities. We're trying to make the pieces fit."

Dunham nodded. "First off, we can't find one unit that was sent to search for McGee. We've talked to just about everyone we can think of. It's a funny thing. Marines don't do it like this. They like to know what happened to folks. Seems like Winter already knows where McGee ended up."

Tony frowned at Gibbs. "What's he saying?"

"Dunham here thinks—"

"Bigboote', Gibbs."

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Shut up. Dunham here thinks that Winter hired Hussain's men to stage the attack and execute McGee."

Tony looked like someone just slapped him. "What the hell!"

"Calm down there, urban cowboy. It's a long shot. I got a feeling. Caught one of Winter's men negotiating with Hussain a few weeks back. Hussain's people are mercenaries; they are used by both sides for missions. They specialize in kidnappings, but not executions as far as I know. Still, my gut hasn't been right about this since I seen that Captain with Hussain." Dunham took a long draw of his coffee.

Tony's energy was electric. "Why?"

Dunham took a deep breath. "Winter can control McGee better if he doesn't have to worry about NCIS breathing down his neck. I figure that he could run McGee at whatever speed he chose."

"Executing him doesn't make any sense!" Tony's fingers were shaking on his coffee cup.

"Well, Smallberries here and I have been discussing that very thing."

"Don't say that name all the time, Dunham!" Wilson growled.

"Can you at least whisper my name if you're going to say it?" Dunham hissed.

"We don't like that beheading video. The second camera could be a thousand things, but we like the idea that the whole thing was staged. It leaves Winter in the driving seat until his hack techs come."

"Remarkable!" Ducky said softly.

"Boss, you considered this?" Tony stood to try and calm himself.

Gibbs sighed. "I have. Like Dun- like the cowboy here says, it's a long shot."

Wilson grimaced. "We didn't want to get nobody's hopes up so we've been following that line of thinking very quietly."

"Found anything?" Gibbs sounded casual but his eyes burned with intensity.

Dunham took a deep breath. "We found two people talking about a new ringer out there. Said that this fella' shows up with a Sergeant, sits down in Communications, and catches signals with ease. He doesn't talk to anybody, and the Segeant loads him up as soon as possible and moves on. Fella's name is Lieutenant Scott Thomas. One Marine said he looks sickly. Says he's real pale and kind of hunched over. Coughs a lot. Said he's tall and lean and he's got real green eyes."

Tony put a hand to his mouth. "Oh God, it's him! Probie's alive. Oh My God."

"Easy does it, Tony." Gibbs reached for his arm. "Sit down now. It sounds good, but we could find this man and we could be all wrong. We're skipping logic. If it's McGee, why hasn't he contacted us?"

Wilson cleared his throat. "We did background on Thomas. There are three Scott Thomas's with the rank of Lieutenant in the US Marine Corp. Two are at Camp Pendleton. We asked Fornell to confirm. Sent him the info. right before we picked you up. The 3rd one is at the Pentagon, and Fornell's checking on that one too. There aren't any in country."

Dunham caught Gibbs's eyes. "But there was a Lieutenant Scott Thomas who died in battle here about nine months ago."

Gibbs closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they were wet. "Damn it, Chad. I think you found my agent and he's not dead."

Dunham nodded. "Yeah, Gibbs, I'm thinking that's what we got."

Wilson nodded. "But we don't have much time. Winter isn't going to allow McGee to magically come back to life when the hack techs come in. He plays for keeps. My guess is that Lieutenant Thomas is scheduled to die in battle again real soon."

Tony was on his feet. "Boss, we get Sec Nav on the phone right now!"

Gibbs shook his head. "Not going to work. Sec Nav works through channels. Gives Winter time to take McGee out. Just the fact that we're in country means Tim's days are numbered."

"No Boss, if he's alive, we're going to make sure he stays alive. You hear me? I'm not doing this again!" Tony looked ready break a wall down.

"We may have another problem," Ducky said quietly. "The Marine's description of Timothy suggests that the wounds from his torture are still plaguing him. Coughing with that condition adds up to pneumonia. My guess is that he is quite sick right now. Untreated pneumonia in his condition can be quite deadly."

"Do we know the name of the Sergeant with McGee?" Gibbs asked feverishly.

…

McGee rubbed his hand over his face in his sleep, grateful for the clean skin they found underneath the dirt. He started to smile when he was thrown into the air. Pain exploded in his chest. His eyes flew open. He wasn't in the clinic anymore. He raised up as much as his screaming chest allowed. He was lying in a pile of blankets in the back of an MRAP, his head resting on Tilson's thigh. "What the hell, Tilson?"

"Now hang on there, Lieutenant. I talked to the Colonel. He said all you have to do is complete two more missions, and he's gonna' let you rest for ever."

The MRAP hit another bump, and McGee groaned in pain. "He doesn't care whether I live or die."

Tilson looked at him in confusion. "Not true. Just hang on. Two more missions and the Colonel says you are done for the rest of your life."

…

TBC

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