Gibbs manoeuvred with stealth through the arid hills eyes peeled for any sign of Fornell or DiNozzo. He darted from bush to bush, grateful for what little cover they provided. Soon the camp was back in view. Scanning the area he could see a group of armed men taking cover against the wall of one of the tents. They looked like Navy SEALs but he couldn't be sure whose group. He decided to head in their direction. Crouching as he ran he remained alert to the probable dangers that lay ahead. With his weapon at the ready, he continued on through the darkness. As he approached an open area the eerie silence was shattered by a burst of gunfire, which was immediately followed by returning fire.
Gibbs instinctively dived to the ground for cover and lay flat on his stomach. He raised his head slightly and tried to see from where the gunfire was emanating. The muzzle flashes were more evident through the night vision goggles which he still wore. The shooting was coming from the direction where he had seen the group of SEALs moments earlier. Realising that they might need his help he got back to his feet and ran to the nearest tent for cover. He crept around the tent so he could get a better view of what was happening. There were a couple of bodies on the ground. Thankfully none of them were wearing the fatigues that he and the other units were wearing. As he crept closer, he was startled by another armed figure diving for the same cover as he. His finger almost squeezed the trigger but thankfully he realised that it was a familiar face just in time.
"Jeez, DiNozzo, I could've killed you," he shouted above the now intermittent gunfire.
"Glad you didn't, Boss," Tony replied his life having flashed before his eyes.
"Did you find any more prisoners?" Gibbs asked.
"No one. Did you find Ziva?" Tony wondered in hope.
"Yeah, she's with McGee," Gibbs informed him.
"Is she alright?"
"They beat on her pretty badly. She's tough though," he replied still watching the camp.
As they spoke another Navy SEAL joined them. He was an imposing six foot four hulk of a man who ordered them back to the rendez-vous point.
"The missile strike has been ordered for zero four twenty. That gives us ten minutes to get clear. Go, now!" he commanded as he hustled the rest of his unit out of the camp.
"Where's Fornell?" Gibbs asked one of the retreating SEALs whom he recognised as one of Fornell's unit.
"Not sure, Sir. He was going into that tent over there last time I saw him. Then the shooting started. I took cover and didn't see where he went after that," the SEAL replied.
"Godammit!" Gibbs shouted. Tony looked at him sensing his intentions. He knew Gibbs would never leave a man behind. Gibbs turned and appraised the situation. The dust was beginning to settle where the gunfight had been. There were more bodies lying prone on the ground. There was no movement. It looked like the imediate threat had been eliminated. He decided that there was still time to look for his friend.
"Give me five minutes," he said to DiNozzo as he turned and ran into the camp. He didn't give Tony a chance to even try and talk him out of it. He was gone, his weapon sweeping from one direction to another, prepared for anything. He looked every inch a marine. He approached the bodies, praying that none of them were his friend. Much to his relief Fornell was not among the dead.
Cautiously he made his way towards the tent where the SEAL had last seen Tobias. Keeping vigilant he approached the opening. Slowly he pushed open the tent flap with the barrel of his weapon. It was then he saw the boots. His heart skipped a beat when he saw the bloodied body of a man lying face down on the ground. He stepped in through the entrance before a movement further inside the tent warned him of imminent danger. Instinctively he dived and rolled just before a shot rang out. As he rolled back up onto one knee and steadied himself to return fire, a flicker of recognition stopped him.
"Tobias?" he said straining to see the man sitting awkwardly in the shadows.
"Jethro? Ah Christ, I thought you were one of them," Fornell explained, a hint of pain in his voice.
"Lucky for me you can't shoot straight," Gibbs mocked approaching his friend. Fornell guffawed slightly before pain took his breath away. Gibbs knew immediately that his friend was injured.
"Where are you hit?" he asked as he knelt beside him and tried to see for himself.
"The gut," Fornell replied removing his blood soaked hand from the wound close to his navel. While Gibbs would like to have stopped the bleeding and tend to his pal's wound, he knew they hadn't any time to spare.
"We've gotta get out of here," Gibbs told him. "Can you walk?"
"Maybe … if you give me a hand," Fornell replied.
With some effort, Gibbs managed to get Fornell to his feet. Fornell's breathing was rapid and he was obviously in great pain but he never complained. Gibbs put his arm over his shoulder and took the weight of his friend. However, this meant that he was unable to keep his weapon at the ready and this put both of them in danger. Gibbs knew they were running out of time so hurried as best he could. They got out of the tent undiscovered and began a hazardous route to the camp's perimeter. Fornell was weak and struggling to stay on his feet. At times Gibbs could feel that he was just dragging his friend along, but he would do whatever it took to get him out of there. He had no intention of ever having to tell Diane or little Emily that he had left Daddy to die in some foreign land.
They had almost reached safety when Gibbs heard the popping of rifle fire behind him. He hauled his friend towards the rocks. At least they would provide some cover for them. They were almost there when Gibbs felt a massive blow to his back as a bullet slammed into his Kevlar vest. He stumbled forward onto his knees and dropped Fornell roughly onto the ground. Gibbs coughed and tried to get his breath back.
"Are you hit?" Fornell asked with concern.
"I'll be okay in a minute," Gibbs replied sounding winded. After a few lengthy seconds he had slightly recovered. With his breath returning, he fingered his weapon and turned and faced where the shots had originated. He could see a lone figure walking boldly through the camp his rifle resting confidently on his shoulder, aimed into the air. He thinks he's killed us, Gibbs presumed.
With that, Gibbs rested the barrel of his rifle on the rock, took aim and with a single shot eradicated the threat. Gibbs relaxed back against the rock, still struggling a little for breath. He was anxious to meet up with the rest of the SEALs and get out of there. They couldn't risk remaining where they were.
"Let's get the hell out of here," Gibbs said, getting shakily to his feet. "C'mon."
Painfully and with great effort on his part, he pulled Fornell back to his feet and they headed as far away from the camp as they could get. Gibbs knew time was of the essence and that the strike could be anytime now. As they rounded one of the larger hills, they were met by an out of breath DiNozzo and one of the SEALs.
"There you are!" he said, relieved to have found them. "You found him then."
Gibbs glared at DiNozzo. He hated when people stated the obvious. The Navy SEAL with him took Fornell and helped him away from danger while DiNozzo and Gibbs followed.
"Hey, Boss, are you hit?" Tony asked noticing the blood on the back of his fatigues and his somewhat unsteady gait.
"Took one in the vest," Gibbs told him.
"But there's blood…" Tony pointed out.
"Yeah? Probably Fornell's," he replied as they eventually reached the others. Just as they did, one of them shouted "Incoming!"
They all took cover as the guided missile, which had been fired from the USS Freedom winged its way towards the camp. The ground shook beneath their feet and the sky lit up as the missile obliterated its target. The air around them filled with dust and smoke. Mission accomplished. It was time to get moving again and return to their extraction point.
Gibbs and DiNozzo linked up with McGee and Ziva once more.
"How is she doing?" Gibbs asked his junior agent looking down at Ziva who was oblivious to all that was happening.
"She's pretty weak. We really need to get her to hospital. How's Fornell?" McGee asked looking over at the medic who was tending to him.
"Got himself shot in the gut. He needs a hospital too," Gibbs explained feeling a little like he could do with a visit to the E.R. himself. He was starting to feel a little light headed. Probably the exertion and the blow to his back he thought.
"Okay men, back to the truck ASAP," the C.O. ordered. Everyone gathered their equipment and a few of the SEALs volunteered to carry the injured. It didn't take long to get to the truck. Gibbs was grateful because his legs were beginning to feel like lead. Maybe he wasn't as fit as he had thought, he considered.
They all climbed into the back of the truck and it wasn't long before they were bouncing along the rough track. Gibbs realised that the pain in his back was much more noticeable and he was starting to suspect that he may have bruised ribs or something of that nature. He was pleased when they reached the proper roadway and settled back for the rest of the journey in relative comfort. Before he knew it, the truck ground to a halt. The journey seemed to have flown. Had he fallen asleep? He couldn't remember. The others were jumping down from the truck. Gibbs rose slowly to follow them. His vision blurred all of a sudden. He swayed slightly and tried to steady himself. It didn't go unnoticed.
"Boss, are you okay?" Tony asked alarmed at the sight.
"Yeah, DiNozzo, I'm fine," Gibbs replied without his usual sharpness.
As he climbed down, Tony noticed that the blood on the seat where Gibbs had sat was wet. He looked at Gibbs back as he crouched to jump down. His shirt was soaked. That wasn't Fornell's blood, Tony realised, it was Gibbs' blood.
"Boss, you're bleeding," Tony pointed out.
"I'm wearing a vest, DiNozzo, I couldn't be bleeding," Gibbs snapped as he jumped down from the truck. Upon landing he fell to his hands and knees. Tony jumped down immediately to his side. Gibbs didn't even attempt to get up.
"I need a little help over here," he shouted to the medic who was checking on Fornell. Thompson, the medic, ran over straight away. They sat Gibbs on the ground and leaned him forward to try and see exactly where the blood was coming from. Gently they removed his Kevlar vest. As they did, Thompson and DiNozzo exchanged concerned glances when they saw the hole in the vest. The bullet had gone straight through. DiNozzo paled visibly upon realisation that his boss had been shot with an armour piercing bullet.
"Agent Gibbs, you've been shot," the medic announced straight out.
"Ah hell," was all that Gibbs replied. That would explain how crap he'd been feeling. It felt like there was a weight on his chest, making it difficult for him to breathe.
"There's an entry wound just below your shoulder blade. Don't see an exit wound. How do you feel?" the medic asked. Gibbs looked up into his face and gave him one of his "how do you think I feel" type glares. The medic wasn't even slightly intimidated though.
"Any chest pain, difficulty breathing?" he asked. Gibbs nodded. Thompson poured antiseptic on the wound causing Gibbs to wince before sticking a field dressing over it. "That'll have to do," he told him outright.
"Can he be moved?" the C.O asked, anxious to get the troops back to the beach.
"The sooner the better," Thompson replied. He signalled to some of his colleagues to lend a hand and they helped Gibbs to his feet. They left the truck and began the hike to the beach. Tony's face was etched with worry as he watched his boss being helped by two Navy SEALs. It wasn't very often that he had seen Gibbs in need of anyone's help. He wanted to be the one to help but with his broken arm, he knew he would be of little assistance so offered only vocal encouragement. Thankfully the beach wasn't too far from the drop off point.
By the time they reached the beach, Gibbs was really struggling for breath. Tony noticed blood bubbles on his lips and knew that it couldn't be a good sign. His face was ashen and beads of sweat trickled down his face. The two Navy SEALs helped Gibbs into the boat. Tony climbed in with him while McGee looked after Ziva in the other Zodiac. Tony called Thompson back when he realised that Gibbs was losing consciousness. He was scared for his boss.
"He's getting worse," Tony pointed out as Thompson moved across the small craft towards him. Thompson checked his pulse. It was getting weaker. He opened Gibbs shirt and put his ear to the right side of his chest. It was as he suspected. No breath sounds. Gibbs pleural cavity was filling with blood. It was making it very difficult for him to breath. He would have to perform a thoracostomy to drain the blood. He had hoped that he wouldn't have to do it in the field but Gibbs condition was rapidly deteriorating. It was far from an ideal setting to cut into a man's chest but necessity knows no law. He asked the Platoon C.O. to wait before casting off so that he could perform the emergency procedure. The C.O told him he could have five minutes. The medic rooted through his kit and found the chest tube, scalpel and the medi-tape. He had done the procedure a few times but never under such conditions. He had no choice.
It was while this was all going on that Fornell realised that there was something seriously wrong with his friend. Despite his own injury, he strained to see what was going on in the other craft.
"McGee, what's wrong with Jethro? Tell me!" he demanded.
"He was shot through his vest. I heard the medic say that he's bleeding into his chest. They're trying to help him breath," McGee explained as calmly as he could. He tried his best to remain composed for both Fornell and Ziva's sake but he had seen Gibbs and knew how serious his injury could be. He didn't see why they had to make it back to the Freedom before linking up with the helicopters to take them to the carrier. Surely with seriously injured people on the beach they could get the Seahawks to pick them up from the beach and fly directly to the Ronald Reagan.
He jumped back out of his boat and marched with determination to the Platoon Commander.
"Can't you call in an emergency air lift out of here for the injured?" he asked the imposing officer.
"What?" he replied turning around, startled by the young agent.
"I said why can't you have the injured air lifted out of here?" Tim repeated.
"Because our mission doesn't involve air support," he replied.
"Can't it change? I mean there are two men over there possibly bleeding to death and a girl with God knows what kind of injuries. They need medical attention sooner rather than later," McGee reminded him.
"I can't just go and change the mission just to suit me," the Commander replied.
"Well then, change it to suit them. You could save their lives," McGee said, hoping to play on the SEAL's hero complex. The Commander looked at the usually meek young agent. He knew he was right. He could cop some flack from the brass but people's lives were at stake. He turned to his communications officer and told him to request an emergency airlift directly to the Ronald Reagan for the three wounded.
McGee was relieved and walked over to where Thompson was treating Gibbs. He reached him just in time to see him cut a small incision between Gibbs ribs and stick his finger through it. Gross, he thought. Then Thompson inserted a tube into the incision and once it was in place, blood dripped from it, releasing the pressure from Gibbs lungs. The sound of his breathing improved almost immediately. He watched as the pale figure's eyes fluttered as the improved blood oxygen level brought him back around.
McGee looked on and felt relief knowing that the Seahawk was being dispatched to evacuate Gibbs, Fornell and Ziva off the beach and to the relative safety of the sickbay on board ship. He hoped it wouldn' be too late.
TBC
Thanks for the review guys! Hope ur enjoying it. Let me know what u think either way.
