"So…we went down. But, O'Shea did good. And the MH-60 can float a bit. I think I may have cracked my ribs on the landing…can't figure how else I did it…" he was looking at the table again, trying to remember the details correctly for himself.

"So, then what?" Jarvis asked.

"You know the rest I think, Mr. Secretary."

"I suspect I do, Tony," he said gently. "But I need you to tell me."

Tony scratched his head for a moment, and blew out a shaky breath.

"We both got out, in life vests. The chopper was floating in the wrong direction, so we did our best to get off quickly…we…tied a line to each other. I was pretty worn out. And Brian, he…he was still bleeding from the wound in his neck…." Tony closed his eyes again, brow knitting together. He made himself open his eyes, though he knew they were watery. Don't lose it now, not now DiNozzo…

He licked his lips again slowly, looking to the side and then back to Jarvis.

(Flashback)

O'Shea was giving as best he could, swimming and almost pulling Tony for a while. The water was roughly 70 degrees, thankfully not too cold.

Tony wondered if they would both be eaten by sharks. For some reason, he thought about the chatty potato he yelled at in Latham's state room. He would have laughed but he didn't want to swallow more seawater than he already had.

O'Shea started to flag, and Tony took the emergency compass off him, treading water for a bit. The sun was burning their skin now, and he guessed it was about noon.

"O'Shea," Tony called to him, seeing the blue eyes closing in the deathly pale face.

"Come on, "he begged, "stay with me O'Shea." He tapped his cheek.

He heard a moan, and the eyes were staring at him again. Tony was trying to swim in the right direction while talking to his friend.

"What'sa…matter…DiNozzo…you see land yet?" he asked hopefully. He was starting to lose his awareness.

"No, Bri, I was.. just thinking…" he turned to swim in the right direction, pulling O'Shea as best he could with him. "How easy… it's gonna be…to drink you under the table …now. You been at sea how long ? I'll even… make you a bet-" Tony choked on some water –"I can win …all that money… I owe you back."

"You're…a…punk…Di…DiNozzo…" it was weak, but Tony was grateful to hear his voice.

Tony wasn't able to keep talking to him and swim. He was trying to concentrate. His body was past the point of exhaustion. But he had to keep going for both their sakes. At least Latham would have seen on the radar that the chopper had gone down. And probably thought Tony was dead. Maybe I am dead, and I just don't know it yet, he thought grimly.

He took breaks, checking on O'Shea, who became less and less responsive as the day went on, until Tony only got the faintest of moans from him.

He started to feel it was hopeless. How far could they have gotten?

We're gonna die out here, because of those scumbags, Stratton and Latham… he thought angrily.

He wondered if they had any idea what happened to him at home, after he had disappeared. They couldn't have…because he knew Gibbs would have tried to come for him.

He had thought a lot about them over the last several weeks of his captivity. He missed them all so much. It hurt.

He wondered if it had been different, had he told Gibbs the truth about the chip the night he went to his house. But he also felt so angry with him, after he saw the file box in Gibbs' basement.

He had gone down and emptied the scrap glass, as he had seen Gibbs do many times, wiping it out to pour a shot of Bourbon. Tony had done it, thinking, he would need it to help him face the man's anger when he found out what he had done. He needed to tell him. Gibbs was the only person who could possibly help.

A screw had rolled from the glass as he'd emptied it, making a little sound as it went to the side of the room. Tony reached for it, under a workbench along the wall, and saw the file box there. He knew he was being nosey, but hey, they all knew he was. He figured it was Gibbs' fault if he saw anything he wasn't supposed to. He listened for the stairs for a moment, then smiled and opened the box.

On top lay a file, with the words "Phantom Eight" jumping out at him. Within a few minutes he had perused it quickly, finding the photo of Latham and Stratton in the original group.

His heart was beating loudly in his hears.

Gibbs hadn't told him.

His hands shook now, in shock and anger, and he put it all back quickly. He took a few paces, putting his hands to his head. Oh, Goooood," he groaned to himself. "You'd think after all this, time, you wouldn't be doing this to me anymore."

Tony felt crushed. The only time he ever lied to Gibbs was when ordered to. And even then, he had still come to him during the mole hunt with Cade.

Gibbs on the other hand…starting back with Domino, had kept things from him when he chose to. And Tony understood Gibbs felt he had good reasons…but as time went on and their relationship, their friendship deepened, he was somehow expecting it to change. He thought maybe after he had almost been killed this time, there would be no more secrets. And now this? If he had only seen that picture before Jarvis cornered him in the coffee shop…

A splash of seawater snapped him out of his reverie.

"I…don't wanna die…mad at you Boss…" he said to himself, pushing on now as the sky was darkening.

He forced himself to think about happier times with Gibbs, even getting his head smacked. In spite of all the torture he went through, he still smiled at that. "And that…is…funny," he said to himself, smiling what he knew must look like a madman's grin.

Some time later, he took a break, and pulled O'Shea to him.

"Bri…" he called, tapping the man's face again, as he'd done earlier.

Nothing.

He was so still…

Tony felt for a pulse.

"Well…shit, O'Shea," he said, letting out a sob.

He tenderly touched the man's face, and hair, not caring he had stopped swimming and was just floating now.

He knew the logical thing.

But he didn't care at this point.

"I'm not leaving you," he hiccupped the words out, choking on the salt water and his tears.

He grabbed O'Shea's vest, and pulled him to him. He put his arms around him, and cried, not caring anymore if the ocean swallowed them both.