Filler for "SWAK." Next chapter will pick up post-episode (aside from the very last scene with Kate which is supposed to occur after some time has passed).

"Darkest Hours – Part II"

Something is definitely wrong with me.

Somewhere between his lengthy discussion of the movie "The Boy in the Plastic Bubble" and his bold assertion to Kate just a few moments ago that he, Anthony DiNozzo, was not afraid, he'd become acutely aware that he was feeling just a little bit off.

The fever had been initially so subtle in its onset that he'd wondered if the feeling had been caused by the blue lights. Or maybe I caught the same cold Kate has, and it's just taken longer to show up. That has to be it…Except without the stuffiness. Or the sore throat. Or pretty much anything that resembles a head cold.

It had been a very short-lived hope. It wasn't a cold. But what was it then? Brad and Emma hadn't even acknowledged the existence of his fever, even though he knew they must be aware of it. They'd been monitoring his and Kate's every move since they got here. Why weren't they saying anything?

How he wished he'd paid more attention to his bio-terrorism training. To things like, "What are the symptoms that tell you you've contracted some deadly awful disease for which there is no known cure and you're going to die a slow and painful death?"

Reflexively, he reached up and touched his forehead again, carefully watching to make sure Kate wasn't looking in his direction. She was the one person in the room he was pretty sure had no idea that there was anything unusual going on with him. He could have sworn it felt even warmer to the touch than it had just a few moments ago, but perhaps his imagination was simply running rampant.

I wish I knew what Gibbs and the rest of the team were doing right now. His wish that his boss would come rushing in to tell them that the whole thing was a sick joke and they could go home was now a distant memory. Gibbs wouldn't let them suffer here needlessly. That meant that either he hadn't made any progress yet, or that he had – and that the situation was serious. His fever seemed a pretty reliable indicator of the second option. But, no one seemed willing or ready to say anything just yet, and it was about to make him go stark-raving mad. He needed a distraction and he needed it badly.

"Kate, you know what the worst part is about being stuck here?"

His partner had been lying in her bed obsessing over all the diseases that could be infecting her body at that very moment. Every time she had something resembling a coherent thought, her uninvited bunk mate had interrupted it with a never-ending string of nonsensical chatter. On some level, in spite of his protests to the contrary, she knew it was his way of coping with fear. She just wished his coping mechanism wasn't so annoying. And loud. "I know what it is for me…" she grumbled, hoping he would take the hint.

"It's being away from my car. I haven't even had a chance to break her in yet," he sighed, either oblivious to his partner's intimation or simply choosing to ignore it.

"I suppose I should have guessed that. You've forgotten your Corvette awfully quickly. Typical man."

"Kate, Kate, Kate," he scolded, with a completely forced laugh. "I haven't forgotten. Just because I've found room in my heart to love another car, doesn't mean I don't still love the one I lost. I'll never forget her. But she's gone, and there's nothing I can do about that but move on."

She was tempted to roll her eyes, but there was something sweet and heartwarming about his response. Well, aside from the fact that the man was talking about a car as if it had been his soulmate, tragically taken from him at the height of their love affair. He could be so confusing. "I'm sure the two of you will be reunited soon, Tony."

"Yeah," he responded with false confidence. "You know, maybe I'll take her for a nice long weekend somewhere. Out on the open road, to let her stretch her wings and fly…"

"Why not take her for a whole week? Or how about two?" Kate suggested.

"Because you'd miss me terribly if I was gone that long. And I just couldn't be that cruel to my partner. You'd be lost without me, Kate. Admit it."

She raised her eyebrows at him. Of course, there was absolutely no way she was ever admitting that she may have missed him, just the teeny tiniest bit, when he was in Panama City. "Why don't we give it a try, and I'll let you know," she said smugly.

He was trying to come up with an appropriate retort when Dr. Brad and Nurse Emma came in. And they were looking far more solemn than when they'd left the room a few minutes earlier.

The plague. I have the freakin' plague.

The room had gone painfully quiet. Brad and Emma had left, giving both their patients time to absorb the shocking information they'd just relayed. And the two caretakers also needed to discuss privately what to do about Kate – uninfected, yet refusing to leave, and allowing her partner to think she, too, was sick. It was unprecedented. It was brave. It was compassionate. It was unthinkably reckless, impulsive, and dangerous.

The idea of the plague had crossed Kate's mind, of course. McGee had mentioned the bubonic plague. This, apparently, was pneumonic plague according to what Dr. Pitt had explained to Tony a few minutes ago in an impossibly clinical tone. He would start coughing soon, his fever would spike even higher. He would develop severe pneumonia, then start coughing up blood. Thankfully, he'd stopped short of finishing the story with Tony drowning to death in his own fluids. But you didn't have to be a doctor to discern that that was the most logical outcome.

And the only emotion her partner had shown had been when she'd lied about having it too.

The reason behind Tony's earlier non-stop chattering had become clearer. He knew. Maybe not that it was the plague. But he knew something was wrong because she heard him ask Dr. Pitt what he had before the doctor had given him an indication that he had anything at all. He knew… but still he went on talking about movies and football and that stupid car like he hadn't a care in the world. While she had been the one fretting. She could slap him. And she could hug him. And, realistically speaking, she couldn't do either, because he had the pneumonic plague and she had this ridiculous head cold.

But she would not leave him.

I have the freakin' pneumonic plague. Me. Anthony DiNozzo. And so does Kate. Kate could die because I'm an idiot.

No one had spoken for what seemed like days, but in reality had only been a few minutes. It was Tony who broke the heavy silence first.

"Kate?" he asked in a small voice that didn't seem to her as if it could possibly have come from Tony DiNozzo.

She jumped up in a near panic. "Tony? What's wrong?" she asked breathlessly.

All pretense of humor was absent from his face, and he was openly concerned. She simply misread the source of that concern. Until he spoke again. "How do you feel?"

Kate physically jumped just slightly at the question. "Me? How do I feel?"

"D-do you feel like you have a fever? Or anything?" he asked haltingly.

It wasn't until that moment that Kate realized the full impact of her decision. He's probably dying. And because of me, he feels guilty too.

But if I tell the truth, he won't let me stay. So I either let him be guilty, or let him be all alone.

He'll eventually figure out I'm not sick. And he'll be pissed at me. But at least he won't be alone.

"I feel like I have a cold, Tony. I've been sick all day, remember?" she said in as testy a voice as she could muster. C'mon, Tony. Get mad at me. Fight back.

"I know. I'm sorry. I just meant…."

"What? You expect me to whine about every little thing? Like you do?" She hated being so harsh. But she needed him to fight back. And fighting with Tony was one thing she'd always been a master at.

His reflexes kicked in. "I do not whine about every little thing. When have you heard me complain since we've been here?"

"'I miss my car,'" she mocked.

He was starting to sit up now. "That was not whining. It was a simple statement of fact. You're the one who's been griping since we got here."

That's it Tony. Fight. Because right now, a good fight was exactly what he needed. And she could give him one. "Mother Theresa would complain about being locked up with you for hours."

"Most people have this thing called a 'sense of humor.' You should really try it some time, K-" He was interrupted by a series of coughs.

As Nurse Emma rushed in to check on her patient, Kate settled back against the pillows on her bed never taking her eyes from her partner. Something cold and heavy settled itself down in the pit of her stomach and refused to budge.

So it begins.

"You should go home, Timmy."

After obtaining a search warrant for Lowell Pharmaceuticals at Gibbs' directive, Agent McGee had sat down dejectedly in Abby's lab, where the younger woman had also remained in spite of the fact that there was nothing left for her to do.

"And do what?" he asked incredulously. "Sleep? While Tony might be dying?" And it's all my fault.

"No one is going to die, McGee!" Abby cried out stubbornly.

"People die every day, Abby," he pronounced more coldly than he'd intended. "It's why we have jobs."

Her eyes filled with tears and he regretted his outburst immediately. "Not Tony. He wouldn't. He couldn't do that to us. Besides, Gibbs wouldn't let him."

McGee let out a long breath and rubbed at his eyes. "Gibbs is just a man. He doesn't have any say in the matter."

"I'm going to overlook that statement, since you're tired and stressed out and sad. But believe me when I say that Tony would never disappoint Gibbs like that. Never. You'll see."

He didn't really believe it, but he wasn't about to let Abby know that. Tim pulled her into a hug and held her there until he felt her body go limp, assured that she'd drifted off to sleep.

He simply stared at the picture on the plasma. The "moldy bread" as Gibbs had called it, with the blue tip. Also known as the monster that was currently stealing away the life of his teammate. And his friend.

"Tony, is there someone we can call for you?" Kate heard Nurse Emma ask her roommate.

You mean like my father? Current location unknown. Doesn't answer phone calls. At least not ones from his only son.

"No. Thanks, though."

Emma nodded her understanding sympathetically. "Doctor Mallard is here by the way. He wanted me to let you know that and tell you that Gibbs will be here when he can."

"Ducky's here?" Tony said with the first hint of excitement since he'd learned he had the plague.

"Yes. I'm sorry you can't have visitors. But he's working with Doctor Pitt checking your progress. Also, I need to ask if you have a Medical Directive in place."

Tony had never even given it a second thought, surprisingly, considering his profession. And right now he wasn't sure he was thinking clearly enough to make a decision like that.

"No," he sighed, followed by a few wet-sounding coughs.

"What about a medical proxy?" Emma asked after Tony had recovered sufficiently.

He frowned in concentration. "A medical proxy? Is that where someone else can make decisions for you?"

"Yes, but only if you are unable to make them yourself."

After a moment of thought, he said softly but decisively, "I'd like to sign one of those. I want to make my boss, Agent Gibbs, my medical proxy. Just in case. Can I do that?"

If Emma was surprised that a handsome, charming, funny young man like Tony DiNozzo was willing to turn over the most important decisions of his life, not to a family member or significant other, but to his boss – she didn't let it show.

"I'll get the paperwork together for you."

Gibbs couldn't go home and wasn't allowed to go up to the bullpen. He had the search warrant he needed, but Lowell Pharmaceuticals and the woman he needed to see weren't ready for his arrival just yet. He'd sent Cassie to her hotel room to freshen up.

He wanted to go to the hospital so badly. They wouldn't let him in to see Tony. But if he could just be there, maybe it would relieve some of this aching in his chest.

But once he was there, he feared he wouldn't be able to leave, knowing that once he left, he may never see Tony again. And he owed the younger man some answers and, most importantly, a chance at that life-saving antidote.

So instead, he was sitting here alone in the dark in autopsy. He knew McGee and Abby were still in the lab, and he supposed he could be waiting there with them. But it didn't seem right to rob them of their time alone together, and they'd be more comfortable providing each other whatever comfort they could without an audience.

How badly he wanted to speed up time, and yet slow it down as well. Each minute that ticked by brought him closer to possibly getting his hands on Tony's salvation. Yet each minute also made Tony sicker, robbing him of more and more precious breath.

Could life really be this cruel? Could it take Tony from him, even after he'd already lost so much?

He jumped when his phone rang, both startled and afraid. The realization that it was Ducky send a chill of anticipation and dread straight down his spine.

"Duck? How is he?" Gibbs asked, his trembling voice betraying him.

There was a long pause and the Lead Agent thought his heart may explode. "I'm afraid he's getting worse, Jethro. He's coughing quite a lot now, and his sputum is becoming bloody."

The ME was met with silence, the only evidence that the other man was still on the other line being the ever-so-faint sound of shaky breathing. He decided to continue. "The other concern is Kate. Apparently she is refusing to leave and even went so far as to allow Tony to think that she's infected as well in order to stay. I don't understand what the dear girl is thinking, Jethro."

Expecting some sort of angry outburst this time from his friend, Doctor Mallard was stunned when the only response he received was, "Tony. She's thinking about Tony, Duck."

"Yes, I understand that, but…"

"Let her stay. She's an adult. It's her choice." Gibbs knew he should've been angry, but he couldn't bring himself to be. He mostly felt grateful. There was someone else who apparently cared for Tony quite a lot, too. In spite of the pretense of hostility his two agents showed to the outside world.

"There is one more thing I need to share with you. Anthony has decided to make you his medical proxy."

"Me?" the Lead Agent asked around the stubborn constricting of his throat. What about his father? Has Tony even called him? Recalling the lack of response from the last time his agent had tried to call the man, he decided he wouldn't ask. If Tony didn't feel comfortable calling his father he certainly wasn't going to force the issue.

"Yes. Of course, it is unnecessary at the moment. But, should decisions need to be made, and should Anthony be unable to make them…"

"It won't come to that," Gibbs insisted.

Ducky was terribly worried about his friend's state of mind but remained silent on the matter. "Jethro, I know it's necessary for you to try to obtain the antidote." He hesitated slightly before adding the last part. "But please, do hurry."

Throughout the night and into the wee hours of the morning, Tony's coughs became louder, wetter, and arrived with increasing frequency.

He was now covered in a constant sheen of perspiration. But Kate kept pushing, and he never stopped pushing back. If he was sidetracked by a fit of coughing, he simply waited for it to subside and then picked up where he left off, often in mid-rant.

Kate had gradually moved from the bed at the far end of the room to the one next to it, just a bit closer to Tony. Then she'd found that she was spending most of her time standing, not directly next to Tony's bedside, but close enough for him to see her and talk to her without too much of a strain. Or, mostly, to argue with her.

They fought about everything Kate could come up with. She dug all the way back to the beginning of their partnership, things Tony had believed long forgotten. Tony was dying. If there was anything that might give him that extra spark to keep fighting, it was fair game.

"I'd keep an eye on my stuff with this one around, Emma. He has no boundaries. He'll listen to your calls, read your emails, go through your PDA…"

"I did that…" cough "to send you…" cough "flowers, Kate."

"And you should see what a suck-up he is when our boss is around. He thinks Gibbs is like Superman or something. Gibbs made a mistake once. I thought Tony was going to rip my head off."

"I don't" cough "think he's perfect." Cough, cough. "I just" cough "respect him" cough "a lot!"

"He doesn't have any personal boundaries either. He asks me if I'm PMSing all the time…"

"If you didn't" cough "act like" cough "you were PMSing" cough "all the time…"

"And his taste in women…let's see…there was Paula Cassidy – he practically drooled over her even after she dumped him. There was the ATF agent who was dealing in illegal arms. Then Lieutenant Kim, who egged his car right after Christmas. Of course, we mustn't forget the pre-operative transsexual…"

"Kate doesn't exactly" cough "bat a thousand" cough "when it comes" cough "to judging people.." cough. "Suzanne McNeil…" cough, cough "Ari Haswari…"

"You should hear him whine about his stuff. Gibbs gave his sunglasses away once and he almost never stopped whining about it. Thought he was gonna cry…"

"DiNozzos" cough "don't" cough "cry."

"And he still goes on Spring Break.."

"Speaking" cough "of Spring" cough "Break…"

At some point in the early morning, Doctor Pitt intervened. "It's time for Tony to rest now, Kate."

Nodding silently, she conceded, "Of course." Against the doctor's wishes, she took her place in the bed next to Tony. Dr. Pitt gave her a hard look, but said nothing, instead producing a surgical mask for her to wear. She knew if her partner thought about the situation enough, he would realize that the mask was unnecessary if they were both infected with the same disease.

Tony caught her eye. "Kate" cough "needs her" cough "rest, too."

The look Tony gave her through the feverish haze told her everything she needed to know. She'd been caught.

The fighting was finally over. Tony simply couldn't do it anymore. He was tired. So tired.

Breathing took all of his energy now. He was only vaguely aware of his surroundings, feeling the pull of unconsciousness tugging at him every so often. Offering a much-needed escape. He wanted the escape so badly, but he was waiting for something. What was it again?

Someone was holding his hand now. The other hand was soft, small, warm. He struggled to focus. It was Kate. She was wearing a mask, but he could still see her eyes. They weren't angry anymore. Maybe they never really were.

Suddenly he understood it all. She lied to me. She never had the plague. She lied to stay here with me. Even though I drive her crazy. The fighting wasn't real either. It was a game. It was the game they played, and they played it well. It had been something familiar and normal to hold on to, keeping him from succumbing to the fear.

He felt guilty for all that he'd subjected her to over the past couple of years. He could be a royal pain in the butt. Maybe it was too little, too late, but he had to tell her how sorry he was….

Stupid cough. He couldn't get out all the words he'd wanted to say. Somehow he'd been sidetracked by James Bond and then he couldn't breathe. He was choking, drowning, then Kate was gone, and he was being pulled closer and closer to the darkness. And it was welcoming him, arms wide open ready to embrace him.

He just wished he'd been able to hold on long enough to say goodbye to Gibbs.

If Gibbs had been racing against a bat out of hell on his trip to the hospital from Lowell Pharmaceuticals, there was no doubt he would have won.

All the while, he distracted himself with all the creative suggestions he could offer to that scientist regarding exactly what he could do with his "15%."

Tony was not going to die. Not on his watch. All that time and energy he'd spent focusing on a non-existent antidote, when the answer was inside of his Senior Field Agent all along.

So, there was no antidote. So what? They didn't need one. Because it was up to Tony now. And Tony would simply do exactly what he told him to do.

I'll just order him not to die. It's that simple. Because Tony wouldn't dare disappoint me.

On some level he felt as if he were taking an unfair advantage of the younger man's need to please him. But if that kept Tony alive, then he'd have to worry about feeling guilty later.

Right now there was more urgent business to take care of.

Kate could see him slipping away right before her eyes.

In just a few hours, the vibrant, funny, charming man who both energized and infuriated her, so full of life, had been stripped of his bravado, his strength, his breath, and now, perhaps even his very will to live.

And after putting up the fight of her own life to stay, she was finally being forced to leave, after one last look at her partner, choking, gasping. Dying.

Once the doors closed, the floodgates opened, the tears held back so forcefully refusing to be denied any longer. Ducky wrapped her gently in his arms and the only thing she could say was, "He's dying, Ducky."

But there was at least one will even stronger than her own.

She heard the growling voice from somewhere behind her. "Ah, the hell he is."

He just wanted the darkness to swallow him at long last. He couldn't do this anymore. Why wouldn't that voice simply leave him alone? Why was someone demanding his attention now? Didn't they understand? His strength was all gone. He had nothing left to give.

The voice wouldn't be satisfied. Something deep in the recesses of his mind warned him that he'd better listen to it.

"Tony, listen to me." Pause. "You listening?"

Even through the haze, he knew that voice. Gibbs. He was going to be able to say goodbye to the man who had meant so much to him after all.

Just a little longer, Tony. For Gibbs. You owe him this much. "I'm li – I'm listening, Boss." He'd just barely gotten the words out.

"You will not die."

Huh?

The Boss couldn't possibly be asking that. He doesn't understand. I can't do it. I must've heard him wrong.

There was a new pain. One that couldn't have been connected to the plague. This one came from outside his body and landed firmly on the top of his head. It stung, but it also held a familiar comfort, encouragement. Even a sort of love.

I'm dying, and Gibbs just headslapped me. And Kate says I have no boundaries.

"I said….YOU…WILL NOT….DIE"

Only Gibbs could make a whisper sound as if the words had been bellowed instead.

There was no question about it this time. Gibbs had made it an order. Maybe he could float around in the darkness for a while, but he wouldn't be succumbing to it. Cause Gibbs was counting on him. And he seemed to remember now that the one thing he wanted more than anything else in the world was to make that man proud of him.

Somehow, impossibly, he got the words out.

"I gotcha, Boss."

He was vaguely aware of the Boss putting something in his hand…cell phone?...pausing just long enough to offer a reassuring pat in the process. And something about women calling and asking for "Spanky," no doubt knowing the naughty nickname would grab Tony's attention, even on his very deathbed.

Then, Gibbs was gone, and he felt himself sinking into the darkness again. But unlike before, it was without any intention of remaining there permanently.

Kate and Ducky looked on incredulously at the scene unfolding on the other side of the double glass doors. The shock was enough to abruptly put an end to Kate's weeping.

"Ducky…did I just see what I think I just saw?"

"Yes, I do believe so, Caitlin. Gibbs just struck Tony on the top of the head."

"What good is that supposed to do? Tony's sick enough without Gibbs…"

"Caitlin, I believe there is much more to that gesture than you understand. Anthony and Jethro have their own way of communicating. I assure you, Gibbs wouldn't do anything to harm Tony."

Gibbs was walking out of the double doors, but he stopped in front of Kate and Ducky.

Looking Kate in the eye, he challenged, "He's going to be fine. And I don't want to hear anybody say otherwise anymore, is that clear? I don't want to hear anymore 'uh-ohs,' 'oh, nos….'" Getting right up in Kate's personal space, he warned, "And I most certainly do not want to hear the word dying one more time. Got it?"

Stunned Kate nodded her understanding.

"Good. I'll be back."

With that Gibbs strode confidently out of isolation, feeling better than he had since the disaster had started. He finally believed that Tony was going to get better. Because Tony gave him his word.

But before they could get to the better, they would have to get through the worst.