Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS.

Hey everyone! I'm SO SORRY it's been so long since an update … life just go the better of me for a few days. But fear not, I am back and this is a nice l-o-n-g chapter for you to enjoy! Thanks for your patience, reads, reviews, and favourites!

"Ow!" McGee exclaimed. "That was my hand."

"I'm sorry, Timothy. I cannot see anything."

"Hang on a minute." Ziva felt around her overnight bag, found a flashlight and turned it on. The LCD light gave a ghostly look to the four but at least it was light.

"The storm must've knocked out the power." McGee said. Abby was peering through the blinds, into the dark street.

"I wonder how long it will be out." Ziva questioned.

"Probably awhile, if the storms keep coming." McGee said.

"It's freezing outside." Abby said, turning away from the window. "And it won't be long till it's freezing in here, too."

"We'll make a fire." Ducky said. "Timothy, come help me. I know Jethro has wood stacked by the back door."

McGee and Ducky abandoned the cot, which Abby and Ziva figured out in no time, and returned a few minutes later, their arms laden with wood.

"Here, let me." Ziva knelt down in front of the fire place, handed McGee her flashlight, and in no time, the four were admiring the orange flame and feeling warm from its heat.

"Do you think Tony and Gibbs will be alright?" McGee asked. "They won't have heat upstairs and I doubt the fire will carry all that way."

"You needn't worry, Timothy." Ducky said. "They are both warm enough on their own. Now, if you excuse me, I am going to wash up and then hit the hay."

Ducky left, leaving Ziva with a questioning look on her face.

"Hit the hay?"

"It means go to bed."

Ziva nodded.

"It is a good idea. It has been a long day and we should all do the same."

Abby and Timothy muttered agreement and soon all of them were comfortably tucked in, the fire flickering shadows onto the walls. Tim shifted in the chair, trying to get comfortable.

"McGee, why don't you sleep on the couch in the dining room?"

"There's too much stuff piled on it. I didn't want to move everyone's things."

"We can move them." Ziva started to get up but Tim stopped her.

"I'll be fine. This chair is pretty comfortable. Plus the fire won't be as warm over there."

"If you are sure." Ziva laid back down. "Good night, everybody."

Good night's echoed around the room and Ziva was left staring at the ceiling, the fire illuminating it softly.

It had been an interesting day. Tony falling sick was something she had suspected, though not voiced. Ziva had to smile – Tony and Gibbs were completely different and yet completely the same. They were opposites in terms of their care. Tony was a whiner; Gibbs the strong silent type. However, both despised the fact they were sick and would and (in Gibbs' case) had tried to ignore what they needed to get better. Ziva knew that the next couple of days would be trying for all involved, the weather outstanding. However, all these thoughts didn't preclude Ziva from falling asleep almost immediately.

Abby woke up in the middle of the night, shivering. Their fire had died down to embers and the air was cool. She shuddered and huddled even closer to Ziva, pulling the blankets tightly around her. Unfortunately, Abby didn't fall asleep again. She wasn't used to being cold at night and it made it very hard to relax. Finally, she got out of bed and draped herself with a blanket sitting on the floor. Abby peaked outside – it was pouring and the wind was as strong as ever. Moving away from the window, Abby thought of Gibbs and Tony. If she was freezing in the living room, then they must be blocks of ice by now. Taking the flashlight from the mantle, Abby walked as quietly as she could up the stairs. She opened the linen closet, holding her breath when the hinge squeaked, and found several blankets.

In Gibbs' room, Abby draped a blanket over the man and listened. His breathing was deep and even; he was sleeping naturally, not affected by a fever. Satisfied, Abby crossed the hall and opened Tony's door. Like she did with Gibbs, she draped the blanket over Tony's form. As she did so, her hand passed by his face and she gasped at the heat radiating off his brow. Instantly, she laid a hand on his forehead and upon feeling how warm it was, she ripped the blanket she had just put on him off and ran for the bathroom, returning with a cold compress. Tony jerked when she laid it on his brow.

"Who's there?" he mumbled, not opening his eyes.

"Shh." Abby soothed. "Relax, Tony. It's just me, Abby."

"What's happening?"

"It's alright, don't worry. You're just sweating out a fever. It's nothing to be overly concerned about."

Despite her comforting words, Abby bit her lip. She was worried … Tony's temperature was dangerously high and with the power out and roads dangerous, there weren't many options should things go sour.

Tony opened his eyes a crack and tried to force himself into a sitting position. Abby gently pushed him back down but Tony resisted.

"No, Tony. You shouldn't get up."

"Have to." Tony said, still trying to push past Abby.

"Just lie down." Abby said comfortingly. "You'll fall asleep again in a few minutes."

"Abby, I'm going to be sick."

"What?" Abby exclaimed, jumping out of the way. "Can you make it to the bathroom?"

Tony shook his head, not daring to open his mouth. Abby scanned the room and saw a trash bin in the corner. She thrust it under Tony's chin just in time and turned away to let him have as much privacy as one could have while vomiting in a bedroom. Tony threw up until there was nothing left and dry heaves were wracking his body. Finally, he gained control and fell back against the pillows, exhausted.

"I am so sorry, Tony." Abby said, setting the trash bin down. "You tried to get up but I wouldn't let you."

"It's alright, Abbs." Tony murmured.

"Do you feel better now?"

"No."

"Do you want to go the bathroom?"

Tony nodded and Abby helped him sit up and then supported him as he made his way down the hall, where Abby refused to let him lock the bathroom door. Abby paced outside the bathroom for about fifteen minutes – twelve or so of those she could hear Tony bringing up whatever he still had in his system. Finally, she decided enough was enough and stood by the door.

"Tony, I'm coming in, okay? Tony?"

When Tony didn't answer, Abby turned the knob. Tony was leaning against the bathtub, panting. Sweat was pouring off his face and glistening on his arms. Abby knelt next to him and wiped his face with a wet towel.

"Thanks."

"Do you want to go back to bed?" Abby asked. Tony merely lunged for the toilet again.

"That's it." Abby said. "I'm going to get Ducky."

Tony was too pre-occupied to say anything and Abby left the flashlight in the bathroom and made her way down the dark stairs.

"Ducky!" she whispered over the sleeping doctor, who awoke instantly.

"What is it?"

"Tony's sick."

Without waking the others, Ducky got up and followed Abby to the bathroom.

"Oh my, Anthony." Ducky exclaimed, seeing Tony curled up by the toilet. He turned to Abby.

"I will need my bag and some water."

Abby returned downstairs, this time taking the flashlight, and found Ducky's bag. When she returned from getting a glass in the kitchen, Ziva was sitting up.

"What is going on, Abby?"

"Tony's really sick, Ziva. Ducky's up there now. He's waiting for me."

Abby didn't wait for a response but made her way up the stairs. She thrust the bag at Ducky and filled the glass with cool water from the tap.

"Here." she handed the cup to Tony who took a delicate sip, the clear liquid burning his throat.

"Try to last as long as you can." Ducky said, sliding the thermometer into Tony's mouth for the third time that day. Tony began to fidget but managed to last long enough for the thermometer to get an accurate reading.

"Well, a bit of good news," Ducky said to Abby (Tony was currently throwing up the water he had just drank). "His temperature is down. The fever must've broken but I am still going to try and give him more medication."

"It won't do any good." Tony spoke up, joining their conversation. "Nothing will stay down."

"That's a good point." Ducky said. "Unfortunately, all I have here are oral pills."

"There's nothing unfortunate about that, Duck."

Ducky and Abby smiled, but their smiled faded as they watched their friend be sick yet again.

"I don't remember vomiting when I had the chicken pox, Ducky." Abby's phrase sounded more like a question.

"Most children do not." Ducky answered her. "It is only in very severe cases and Anthony here is a perfect example. It is his second time contracting the disease and he has a weakened immune system. I doubt that Anthony's nausea will end any time soon so why don't you get some pillows and blankets and make him more comfortable?"

Abby nodded and returned with three pillows and three blankets. She handed Tony one blanket and two pillows.

"What are those for?" Tony asked her, putting one pillow between his back and the edge of the tub.

"Me, silly. You don't think I'm leaving you here alone, do you?"

Abby turned to Ducky.

"You can go back to bed if you want. I'll stay with him until he falls asleep again."

"Are you sure, Abby?"

Abby nodded.

"Positive."

Dr. Mallard yawned.

"Then I will be downstairs. Do not hesitate to call me if anything seems off. I will leave my bag up here, should you require the thermometer or any other items."

"I'm sure we'll be fine, won't we, Tony?"

"Uh-huh."

Abby settled herself on the floor after Ducky left. She and Tony didn't talk much – any time Tony wasn't throwing up, his eyes were closed. Abby began drifting off between bouts as well. At one point she must've fallen asleep because she woke up to Gibbs' voice.

"What is going on in here?"

So what'd you think?

Just something to point out here … it was brought to my attention in a review that what's happening here isn't entirely medically sound. The fevers they are running are dangerously high and would require a trip to the ER almost without question (as would all of Tony's vomiting). However, there is a reason this is called fanfiction, which I know is no excuse but it's all I can really say. I'm not planning to make the story so serious that someone lands in the hospital.

Anyways. That aside … don't you feel bad for poor Tony? I know I certainly do (which is rare – I have to be really horrible to a character before I feel bad for them). Review?