Author's Note: Hey guys, still sick. Results came back negative even from the out-of-office lab so this clearly was and is a bad round with allergies. Ugh--I don't know why now, that I am older, I have to deal with allergies. I never did as a kid. Anyway, enough about me. I hope nobody minds the mixture within this chapter--and sorry if the title screams terror. I felt like changing it every so often, but then I figured--what the hell, let me just leave it to what it is. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter and by all means, if you have time, let me know what you think. I really dig getting reviews (as I'm sure we all do). Later Days--Geek.

Chapter 11: Left For Dead

The elegant walls of the estate shake with every heavy thump that came from one of the upstairs bedrooms. Abby's music will not let up for anything in the world because her nerves are on edge, and her yearning to feel Gibbs near is being ignored by the actual fact that he literally is not able to be close to her.

Inside the den, Director Shepard sits with Agent Huntington; her nerves on edge. She has not been able to reach Gibbs or McGee for the last hour.

"They might be in a bad spot." Jasmine tries to calm the tension in the room. "Things like this happen all the time."

"If he were with DiNozzo I would find myself understanding something like a lost connection--but he is with McGee."

"McGee's the best at what he does--his background in Computer Forensics goes a really long way…I wouldn't worry so much, Director. McGee will get them both back on the map…so to speak, in no time."

The Director looks down at her desk, a heavy sigh wanting to come out of her. She holds her breath when she hears another thump from the upstairs.

"If she breaks anything in that room I am billing Gibbs."

Jasmine smiles in reply as the Director trties to find comfort in her usually comfortable desk chair. In seconds she realizes that until she hears back from Gibbs, she will not find comfort.

A sigh escapes her, drawing attention from Huntington. The Director smiles sheepishly, indicating a silent apology.

"This is a nice place you got here, Director."

Director Shepard smiles at Huntington's obvious liking to her home. It is something in the way her eyes wander around that reminds her of Tony.

"Abby sure has a nice place to hide out in."

"She'd prefer Gibbs' basement." She snorts. "…there's a lot about Abby that prefers Gibbs."

"I've learned through the rest of the team that she is his favorite."

She smirks, "That's one of the best lessons the team could ever teach you."

"Noted." Jasmine studies the liquor cabinet. "Do I detect bourbon?

"A few bottles." She can not help, but smile at the glimpse of Gibbs' face that passes through her mind. "In stock just in case a friend drops by."

"Any friend?"

"Any friend not on the job…" Her tone warning. "Maybe sometime, Agent Huntington. For now our senses should be clear…for Abby's sake…" The sinking feeling in her stomach begins to grow. "…and for the rest of the team…wherever they may be."

He finds it hard to open his eyes even though the room is only being lit by a single bulb flickering somewhere to the far left of him. A buzzing and zapping noise registers in his mind as mosquito's, or other forms of bugs trying to get as close to the warmth of the bulb as possible.

A grunt escapes him as he tries to sit up against the wall. He stays slouched; his back nearly slipping off the wall. It makes him feel miserable. A sharp pain is digging into the lower areas of his back every few minutes.

He tries to use his hand to sooth the pain, but he finds his hand to be weak. His brow furrows; eyes still closed, and he tries to use his other hand--the same weakness there. He tries to take a deep breath, but the sharp pain in his back shoots up through his side and straight into his ribcage. A hoarse cry escapes him as he tries to find enough strength throughout his whole body to keep himself in this very position without moving.

He begins to hear noises; material being dragged across the floor and then there is a quick intake of air.

"…McGee?" He tries to open his eyes, but they will not open. He uses his tired hands to touch his eyelids, wondering if they are completely swollen shut. "…that you…McGee?"

"…yeah…"

"Can you see me?"

"I haven't tried to open my eyes yet."

"Do it." The room falls completely silent. "Did you do it?"

"I'm trying…" He hears a heavy sigh. "I can't, boss."

"Do they hurt?"

"No…they don't feel swollen either."

Gibbs shakes his head. "We should feel something."

"Maybe they gave us something to numb the pain."

Gibbs shakes his head again. "Then we're going to feel a whole lot worse in a few hours." Another sharp pain hits him square in the ribs.

"What's the matter?"

"…hang on…" He holds his breath, waiting for the pain to cease. "…your ribs alright?"

"I think so…" McGee feels around his body. "…I think the rest of me is okay too, boss…"

Silence fills the room. The damp air creates an undeniable musk. The mildew is being unseen by the two people trying to determine their conditions and whereabouts.

"…boss?"

"Yeah, McGee…that's good…that's real good…" Gibbs inhales midway knowing that a full intake of breath will cause him another round of striking pain to his ribcage.

"…you alright, boss?" He feels his senses heighten as his nerves system shifts into the next gear. "…anything I can do for you?"

"Fine, Mcgee. I'm…" Another moment of pain stops him mid-sentence.

"BOSS!"

"…don't strain your voice, McGee…" Gibbs slouches against the wall effortlessly. "…just relax."

McGee sighs heavily. "What good is it to relax when no one knows where we are?" He rubs his hands over his face. "…we don't even know where we are…"

"You suddenly starting to think this was a bad idea, Ma-Gee?!" Gibbs physical pain making him angrier by the minute.

"No, Sir!" McGee straights his back against the wall.

"Don't call me Sir." He says through a slightly opened mouth. "…and don't give up on me already."

"I won't."

"Good."

Inside his mind, a million images of Abby, with her chipper smile and her hyper-animated body language, begin to play in a never-ending reel.

"Don't go there, McGee."

He turns his neck towards where he assumes Gibbs is, "Huh?"

"Don't. Go. There…" He pauses for a moment. "…I've been there…plenty of times…and right now doesn't call for one of those times."

"What if we never get out of here?"

"That kind of thinking won't get you anywhere in life."

McGee turns his head away from his boss and tries to open his eyes once again--nothing happens. "How did Tony get past this?"

"Who says he did?"

"…my gut…" McGee finishes easily; almost afraid of what following his own gut might lead him.

Gibbs sighs; his voice off balance and shaking slightly.

"…mine, too…"

Tony eyes his Risotto questionably. Ziva notices this, but she does not make an effort to ask any him questions. Instead she focuses on the steak in front of her.

"…I'm not sure this is exactly kosher."

"That it is not." Tony sharply looks at her. "What?"

"If this food isn't proper then what's it doing in front of me?"

"Kosher does not mean proper."

"Okay so proper is too much of an elegant word, but it sure as hell isn't acceptable."

"It is under Jewish Law."

"…so?" He knits his eyebrows. "I'm not Jewish."

"Neither am I."

"…well you're closer to it than I'll ever be."

"That does not make me Jewish, Tony." She cuts into her steak. "Are you going to watch me eat the rest of the evening?"

"That depends…" He puts his fork into the Risotto. "…something is telling me to stop right here at this point in time."

Ziva drops her fork. "What is the matter with you, Tony? You wanted Risotto so we ordered Risotto." She picks her fork up in a fashion that clearly looks like one of her many killing tactics. "EAT!"

"Alright, alright…crazy ninja chick!" He stuffs a fork full of Risotto in his mouth, chews, then swallows. "Wow--not bad."

"Why would you think it would be bad?"

"Italian food in China is questionable."

"How so?"

"…Uh--because this isn't Italy."

"I've seen a million American, such as yourself, eat plates upon plates of Italian food right in America."

"That's different."

"…no it isn't." She slows her chewing and waits for him to continue.

"Yes it is. America has Little Italy--not only that, but we have China Town, too."

"China Town is in Singapore."

He feels stumped, but he also feels he must prove her wrong. "Singapore isn't a country."

"It's a State."

"That doesn't make it a country." His forehead creases, "And you're wrong, it is not a state. It is an Island State somewhere…on some Peninsula."

"Not 'some Peninsula'…on the Malaysian one."

"Who cares it's not like you know the exact location--"

"On the southern tip of the Malaysia Peninsula."

His makes a scowled face, "Well…apparently you've got enough time on your hands to study heaps upon heaps of history books and world maps."

Her eyes light with amusement at his displeasure.

"Next time I come to visit I'll make sure I bury my nose into a ton of books instead of keeping my both eyes on beautiful flight attendants before the plane lands."

He notices how serious she has gotten and he wonders if it is something he said or if it is something she is thinking all of her own.

"Penny for your thoughts."

"I do not have any American money."

He chuckles at her usualness. "It's an American saying, Ziva…it means, I'd sure like to know what's going around that head of yours."

"Do you suppose there will be a next time, Tony?"

Her blunt question even chills his Risotto. Leaning back in his chair, he tries to find a witty comeback, but fails.

"It is a logical question, no?"

"Logical, sure…" He clears his throat. "Appropriate…not quite."

"How so?"

"We're supposed to be enjoying ourselves…don't ruin it with what if's and doubts."

"I apologize if my usualness is making you uncomfortable, but this is who I am, Tony. I have to live my life wondering if I will see the people I care for ever again. I have to treat every moment as if it is our last--"

"Slow down, Ziva…" He places a napkin over his full plate of Risotto. "You've killed my appetite."

"Isn't there anything you take seriously?"

"Do you really need for me to answer that?" He has become annoyed. "Don't leave me with the impression that you're battling through each day of your life--like I can deal with that."

"I assumed you've grown."

"I have!" He feels such resentment to her statement. "Don't worry about what I've achieved while you've been gone." He knows his words hit her straight forward as he sees her now put her napkin down over her own plate. "…but don't let me ruin your appetite."

She does not like the way the coversation has shifted, so she stands with her plate and orders him to clean his own.

"We going to go through the rest of the night like this?"

"No." She begins to see the meaning behind his reasoning. "We'll go out."

"I'm not sure I packed for such an occasion…" He breaks into a sheepish grin. "Okay, I might have packed a few items that are perfect for a night out on the Hong Kong town."

"Be ready in ten minutes."

"…I'll try, but this change of climate has got my hair doing all sorts of wicked things on its own…" He pats his head, smiling as he watches her burst into a full-fledged smile. "Why Ms. David, I do believe this is the happiest I've seen you in quite sometime…"

"Your trip would not be complete if I did not put on a show for you."

"Ohh…care to let me in on the upcoming surprises?" He rubs his hands together. "You know how much I love details…"

"Maybe after you've finished, how do they say? Dolling yourself up, Tony."

His face grows serious as she leaves him, laughing her way to her closet.