Author's Note: Hiya guys, how are we doing on this kind of nippy Sunday afternoon? Things are alright here, just nippy fingers and kind of hungry. Anyway, I hope the fic is going good so far. It'll only be a matter of time before everyone will be back together again. Hopefully brighter days are ahead for the characters, huh? Okay--that's all for now. Hope you will enjoy the chapter. I stepped a bit OOC, but I think considering what is happening...that's kind of alright. I 'hope' it is alright. LATER DAYS--Geek.

Chapter 13: The Forgotten

The numbness around their eyes has long passed. Now the swelling can be felt and the pain can not go without feeling.

McGee is in better condition. Though his face is swollen, he is able to open both of his eyes. The feeling is a shift in the positive direction and his unnerving fear has subsided somewhat. Now with his sight he will be able to take a mental picture of their surroundings.

Gibbs on the other hand is not only in need of a way to open his completely swollen shut eyes, but he needs to find an explanation for the weakness in his hands.

As another sigh escapes McGee, it is then that Gibbs begins to see the error in his ways; from the moment he sent Ziva away to the very moment at hand. A decline in his stubbornness could have kept his current partner from enduring pain he had absolutely no reason to experience in his lifetime.

"I gotta say, boss…you're awfully quiet." He looks to the fallen Marine, slumped against a wall that appears to be infested with every form of mold and human decay ever known to mankind. The steam of light that is able to pass through the dingy, cloudy window is the their only source of light now that the single bulb in the room had blown an unsure amount of time ago. "…anything you think I should be doing now?"

"I don't know, McGee." His voice heavy; almost annoyed, too. "Maybe you can find a way to explain the issue I seem to be having with my hands."

His eyes travel to his boss's hands; they are on the side of his slumping form.

"…never experienced something like this…" The self-hate begins to form inside the older man. "…no way for me to even begin to know how to fix this."

"Sounds like you're giving up on me, boss." McGee holds his breath, afraid that he might have spoken the truth.

"Yeah--McGee--that so?" His smirk is forced do to pain, but is sincerely intended.

McGee catches his attempt and smiles weakly though he knows it can not be seen.

"Botulism."

"What?" Gibbs tries his best to sit up more.

"You could have botulism." McGee swallows, unsure if he should continue.

"What the hell gives you that impression?"

"Weakness." He swallows again. "The weakness in your hands can be caused from botulism."

"This didn't just come about."

"No, but you could have been injected with something--something containing bacterium Clostridium Botulinum."

Gibbs stops moving, still unable to properly position his back flat against the wall.

"What?"

"Clos--"

"I got that part, McGee--but what is it--where'd it come from?"

"My first guess would be a form of beauty treatment."

"…I'm going to pretend I didn't just hear what I know I heard."

"…not that you would need one…" He sighs. "This bacter--" He hears a loud sigh. "…this stuff you might have been injected with is the same substance that is found in Botox."

"You're trying to tell me that somebody decided to inject my hands with Botox?" He can not help it and so he chuckles, despite his pain and his surroundings. "Now you've got me thinking I took DiNozzo along with me."

"They could have injected you with this toxin anywhere--perhaps our faces, actually." McGee shrugs. "It could have something to do with the numbness we felt although I am not all that sure."

"Come on, McGee--this isn't a likely form of torture."

"There are side effects to this sort of injection. Some can result in problems breathing and swallowing--in some cases it can cause a loss in strength and muscles anywhere in the body."

Gibbs clears his throat. "You sure you're not reading from a pamphlet?"

McGee waits for Gibbs to process this information before continuing.

"…this could be the reason you feel a sudden weakness in your hands."

"People get themselves injected with this shit everyday--"

"It doesn't mean it makes it any more safer."

"Okay fine, McGee--when does this wear off?"

"I don't know." McGee sighs tiredly. "Chances are you weren't really injected with Botox."

"Then why bring it up in the first place, McGee?" Gibbs' voice is tired as well.

"…to give you an example…the real issue lies in the amount of Clostridium Botulinum you could have been injected with."

"Meaning?"

"…meaning if you weren't given this injection in small doses, it can be toxic."

His head falls back against the wall. The small impact makes a light thud echo inside the room. "…and millions of people inject themselves with this shit everyday…" He sighs. "…people never seize to amaze me."

"I wouldn't worry about what you could already have in your system, boss."

"Then what the hell should I worry about, McGee?"

"…how much more of this BC they have…left to give…"

If Gibbs had been able to open his eyes, they would have shut at the very moment.

"…we've got to get out of here, boss--they'll come back for us. They'll…" A shaky breath escapes the younger Agent. "…I--"

"Easy, McGee." His mind races to find something comforting to say. "…just take it easy."

"Yeah--um, I'm having a hard time doing that…" He begins to sweaty profusely.

"Cracking up's not gonna do you any good!" He snaps. "Man up, McGee!"

McGee holds his breath as he wipes sweat from his brow. He soon exhales slowly and wipes his brow again.

Gibbs inhales deeply, forgetting about his rib, then exhales quickly in an episode of pain. He waits to hear more from McGee, but he is only met with silence.

"McGee…" He feels unsure about what he wants to say.

"Don't bother, Gibbs." McGee knows what he can not say. "…back in DC I was thinking about things…about why we were coming to Tel Aviv in the first place. He laughs cruelly. "As I packed my bag I kept wondering why I had to be the one to come along and it was then I realized--there wasn't anybody else." He looks at his boss. "If Tony had remained in DC--if he hadn't went against the chain of command, he would have been right here with you--right here, right now…" He shrugs. "…and just maybe we wouldn't be stuck in this situation."

"Feeling bad for yourself, McGee?" His tone sarcastic.

"Just saying how I feel, Gibbs." McGee looks away from him. "…it never hurts to be yourself."

"Better not be implying something negative about the way I choose to react to situations." He is becoming angry. "…and don't think just because DiNozzo isn't here, he's somewhere he should be."

"He's probably dipping into his retirement fund as we speak!" McGee retorts.

"He might have ran into trouble."

"Maybe his trouble was deserved!"

"OH YEAH?!"

"YEAH!" McGee hollers. "And maybe…maybe I'm just fucking sick and tired of picking up Tony's slack. Maybe I've just had enough of being shoved to the back of the line until I'm needed."

"You pulling yourself out of my team?!" His teeth grit inside his mouth.

"I'm just telling you how I feel."

"Bullshit! You pick a time like this to tell me this?!" He stomps one of his feet against the cold, cement floor. "You're fucking scared out of your wits you're talking completely out of your ass, McGee!"

"Then don't listen to me!"

Quick rustling outside turns their attention away from each other. In a split second the door, bolted from the outside, unlocks and the cloudy skies of an oncoming storm greets McGee.

"Who's there, McGee?" Gibbs is frantic for a need to see.

"…I don't know…" McGee braces himself. "Who are you?" He asks to the first shadow of the man he sees.

The shadow only laughs as a response.