As they stepped out into the bright, hot sun, all Tony could think about was movie theaters.
His co-workers had long been annoyed that he seemed to find a movie reference in everything, and that seemed to extend to hovels in the desert. But as he and Tim aided Ziva out of the hellhole she had been in for the last couple of months, his first thought was emerging from a movie theater to the outside, waiting for your eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness. Well, there were worse ways of thinking.
Just a few steps away from them was Leroy Jethro Gibbs, all decked out in his sniper camo, looking like some creature in a horror flick. Yes, another film reference, and he kept that to himself as well. Then, Gibbs stepped aside and a couple of corpsmen rushed to their aid.
"Take her first," Tony ordered, releasing his grip on Ziva's upper body. Unfortunately, when she was removed from his grasp, there was nothing left to support him, and he sunk to his knees, his legs unable to hold him up anymore.
"Tony, you alright?" a question was posed to him. He wasn't sure until he saw McGee who it was asking, but his partner was at his side, watching over him.
Normally, this would have been a situation he would have waved off, machismo winning out over common sense. But the truth serum was still coursing through his veins, making him admit, "I've been better. Could use a little medical attention myself, Probie."
A second set of medical personnel appeared and attended to him, peppering him with questions. His mouth was so dry, he couldn't really answer them, so Timmy helpfully supplied the information they were looking for. By time they got him on a stretcher, the jeep that Ziva had been put on had sped away with Gibbs keeping watch over her.
Soon, they too were off, driven a mile or so from where they were to a plane that seemed to be waiting for them. "I'll take the window seat, thank you," he said, but he wasn't sure if he had been heard. Then he felt a needle prick his skin and he almost fought it off until Tim placed his hands on the arm.
"They're here to help, Tony. Let them do their work." Why was McGee giving orders? He was the Senior Field Agent, that was his job!
"Listen to him, DiNozzo," Gibbs' gruff voice directed. It was a relief to hear that order coming from the boss. The world was being set back on its axis, even if it was agreeing with what McGee had just said.
"How is she, boss?" Tony needed to know. He still wasn't sure if it was all a dream, that he had imagined her seated across from him. He had felt her body, but his mind wasn't working well right now.
"She'll be fine now, DiNozzo, thanks to you." That sounded like a compliment from Gibbs, a rare thing to hear. Tony thought he had said more, but the roar of the engines starting drowned out any other sounds.
He must have fall asleep, or lost consciousness, because the next thing he felt was cool air blowing down on him. He opened his eyes to find himself on what looked like a ship. "Ah, you're awake," a voice said. It was familiar but he couldn't place where he knew it from. Then the owner of the voice came into his view. "So, now you're my patient," Doctor Russell Nguyen informed him.
"Doctor Feelgood, how'd I get stuck with you?" Tony asked, his throat still scratchy.
"You're onboard the Seahawk. We were ordered on standby for this mission," Nguyen replied.
"'Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world,'" Tony paraphrased, "I had to be dropped in yours."
"Yes, there is an irony to it," the doctor agreed before stepping aside.
"Tony, you hear me?" McGee practically yelled in his ear.
"Jeez, Probie, no need to see if I'm dead," he yelped, jumping off the bed a little.
"Sorry," he mumbled an apology.
"What time is it?" Tony needed to know how long he'd been out, was desperate to know.
But McGee had no answer. "Truthfully, I couldn't even guess. My body clock is so screwed up with all the time zones we've travel through the last couple of weeks."
Tony knew what he meant, but even without an answer, he seemed calmer. "What did they give me?" he asked.
"They?"
"Doctor Feelgood, Doctor Nguyen, whatever his name is."
Tim seemed to understand. "They had to flush out the toxins from your body that were in the serum Saleem injected into you. Plus, you were actually suffering from the worst dehydration of all of us. But other than that, you're in pretty good shape."
"And Ziva?" Tony needed to know and waited from the answer, which Tim seemed hesitant to provide. "Come on, Probie, I can handle it."
"Same as you, severe dehydration. Various broken bones, mostly ribs. They did a, ah…" He hesitated and Tony feared the worst. "They did a rape kit on her."
Tony didn't need to know the result. "When can we get back to Washington?"
"Gibbs is on the call with Vance now, giving him a SitRep. And the doctor says he wants to keep you here a few more hours, just to be on the safe side."
But Tony didn't want to hear that. He somehow managed to sit up and grabbed for the IV in his arm. However, his movements were slow and Tim stopped him before he yanked it out. "Tony, you do that, you'll be here longer. Better to be fully recovered than under the ministrations of a doctor who I think doesn't like you much."
Tony laid back down, defeat in his voice. "Fair point. But not a minute sooner than necessary. You tell him that McGee." But the junior agent didn't move. "Don't you know what an order is?" That got him up and moving. He saw Tim go over to the doctor, but whatever he said was lost as he fell back asleep.
He began to relive the past couple of weeks, his mind going back to Vance's office, which he had just stormed out of.
Gibbs had followed and clued him into the interplay that had been going on between him and the director. He was surprised that Gibbs hadn't headslapped him for his lack of recognition of what was going on. Gibbs eventually returned to the office and Tony went back down to the bullpen, finding McGee and Abby waiting for him.
"What did Vance say?" McGee asked him immediately.
"It's still a no-go," Tony answered, letting it hang there for a response, as he sat at his desk.
It came from Abby. "WHAT!? What more do they need? We have the satellite intel, we have the manifests with Caf-Pow, what more do they need?"
Tony merely shrugged his shoulders. "Vance said the Joint Chiefs won't sign off on a mission on a terrorist's apparent caffeine addiction alone." He saw Abby's agog look, and played up his own frustration. "What can I say? I gave the Toothpick a piece of my mind already, but he was unmoved. Said we'd need to change the circumstances for them to authorize it."
"How the hell can we do that?" Now Tim piped up, calmer than Abby had been.
Tony made sure he was facing his computer, so as to not let the two see the smirk crossing his face. "We need our eyes on the prize," he said at last, wiping his expression before turning back to them. "Quite literally."
"How can we do that? They don't seem to be accepting the thermal imaging data we got, l mean what more are they expecting?" Abby's voice was only lower by a couple of decibels.
But Tim seemed to get it. "We need to have a physical presence for certainty," he said, catching onto what Tony was getting at. "Do they have an idea about who they'd send? Is Dunham still in the region?"
"I'm not sure about Chad, but I think Vance'll be looking for volunteers," Tony said. Then he smiled, one that typically got his coworkers nervous, as he saw the change in McGee's face. "Luckily, I just offered him some, through Gibbs."
"Wait, hold on a sec. You're saying someone's going to have to go into Somalia and see the camp?" Abby looked skeptical at the idea. "Who'd be crazy enough to do that?"
"Me," Tony answered, "and McGee."
"WHAT?!" Tim squealed, before opening and closing his mouth a few times, trying to formulate more articulate thoughts.
"I volunteered us," Tony said, getting up and walking closer to McGee's desk. "What, don't want to do it, huh?" There was anger in his voice, even though he tried to stem it.
Tim looked appropriately remorseful. "No, it's just…" Tim's eyes slid from side to side, trying to appease Tony. "Of course I want to go. It's just...you should have asked me first." He looked up to Abby, muttering, "I knew I should have gone up with Tony."
Abby still hadn't said a word since he dropped the bomb about going on the mission. Then, at last, she whispered, "Tony, that's…" She couldn't complete the thought.
"Yeah, I know. But I haven't wanted to get a bastard like this since Ari," he said.
"We'll get him, DiNozzo," Gibbs said as he entered the bullpen. "You, McGee, mission briefing, now. We're going to lay it all out for Vance, SecNav and the commanders."
What had followed was a precise plan of attack. They still had to find the camp, and it was agreed that there would be check-ins every hour. If there was no check-in for two hours, the signal would be sent. A SEAL team had been assigned to go with them, and Gibbs would be the signal once contact had been established. Tony knew the danger the whole thing entailed, that capture was inevitable, and maybe even death. But he was willing to die to avenge Ziva, he told the gathered officials.
For the second time that night, he didn't catch the looked that passed between Leroy Jethro Gibbs and Leon Vance.