“A Friend in Needâ€� â€" Chapter Twenty-two

Warning: Graphic description of injuries - if this makes you uncomfortable, you might want to skip the last half of this chapter.


Inside the plantation house, the inhabitants had paired off and were gathered in various spots, doing whatever they could to escape the anxiety and pressure that had permeated the air ever since Barker and his men had returned the day before with the NCIS agent. No one had been able to relax since then, and DeAngelo’s visit the night before had only ramped up the growing sense of apprehension and turmoil. Even though Barker’s men had not been privy to the argument between Phelps, Barker and DeAngelo, they had felt it’s after effects. Phelps had become even more aloof and superior in his attitude towards the others in the house, and Barker’s temper was on a hair trigger, causing him to slam doors, snap at his men, and curse for no apparent reason. Everyone had been glad to see Jillian arrive that morning, hoping her presence would calm Barker down, and his people had gone out of their way to provide them with some privacy, avoiding the kitchen where the two sat talking.

Holmes and Franklin, the most raucous of the occupants, were in the living room, game controllers in their hands, deeply engrossed in a game of Halo. They hooted enthusiastically in triumph whenever their character did well in the game, and groaned with equal volume when their character lost a fight, content to lose themselves in a world of make believe. Joe White and Phil Garrison were in a room down the hall from the kitchen, where the camera in Galvin’s room was providing a live feed of their prisoner’s activities on the monitor in front of them. White had wandered in there an hour ago, having just returned from checking on DiNozzo. He had been disturbed by how labored the man’s breathing had become, and didn’t know what they would do if he ended up dying on them. Not really feeling up to playing video games, but not wanting to be alone, he had sought out Garrison. Garrison had been glad for the company, and they sat together, occasionally checking the monitor, while they discussed sports, trying hard to forget everything that had happened the day before.

Jillian and David were still seated at the kitchen table, yet again going over the details of the tape DeAngelo had played the night before, trying to figure out what Gibbs’ next move would be. Barker had described the torture of DiNozzo the day before, knowing Jillian was tough enough to hear it, and desperately needing to get it off his chest. He wasn’t averse to physical violence, but had never felt the need to utilize it for no real reason. Even though he’d reluctantly agreed to Phelps’ plan yesterday, he hadn’t believed it would end in the results Phelps had been hoping for and expected. He had wanted to stop long before Phelps had let him, and the nausea he had begun to experience by the end of the whipping had yet to abate, and that, coupled with his fear of Gibbs, had him at the breaking point. Together, he and Jillian were trying to decide if there was any way they could get out of the whole thing at this late date.

Outside the house, all three of Gibbs’ teams had moved into place, crouching next to their assigned entry ways, using the house as shelter, quietly saying, “In position,� over their headsets, to let Gibbs know they were ready to enter. Dobbs, Primrose and the rest of the Bravo team crouched along the side of the house, next to the stairs that would lead them up onto the veranda where the front door was located, guns drawn, waiting for Gibbs to give the command to enter. Each team had reported that they were in place, so Dobbs knew the signal would come at any moment. The anticipation of the imminent entry had adrenaline pumping through his system, making it hard to stay still. When Gibbs’ voice crackled “Go!� over the headsets, Dobbs nodded at his team, and as one they moved up the stairs.

McCartney and Kaiser positioned themselves on either side of the door, and Dobbs, with Primrose at his back, reached out and turned the door knob. Discovering it was unlocked, Dobbs pushed the door open and stepped in, crouching low. Taking only a second to get his bearings, he moved silently through the entry way. Off to his left was the living room, and two men sat with their backs to the doorway, facing a television, game controllers in hand. When the others in his team had made their way into the house as silently as possible, he waved his hand forward, and together they entered the living room. McCartney and Kaiser snuck up behind the couch the two men sat on, and pressed their guns against the backs of their heads, placing their free hands over the men’s mouths. Dobbs and Primrose moved into view in front of them, and could see the surprise on the men’s faces when they were quietly told to freeze. It took very little time to bind and gag the men, immobilizing them where they sat, the gags intended to prevent them from sending out a warning to the others in the house. After Dobbs had announced the living room secured, with two perps captured, leaving Kaiser to guard the two, Dobbs and the rest of his team quickly swept out of the room and proceeded to check out the adjoining study, only to find it unoccupied. From there they advanced into the dining room, again finding it empty. Confident that the front of the house was secured, they headed back to the living room. “Front of the house is clear. Gibbs and his team are supposed to sweep the back of the house, so we’re moving on to the upstairs,� Dobbs told Kaiser. “Stay here and keep an eye on these two,� he ordered, as he and the other three members of his team headed for the stairs which led to the second story of the house.

While this had been going on, Gibbs and his team had also entered the house through the back door. When the door crashed open, Gibbs and Ziva charged in, and Gibbs called out, “Federal Agents, freeze!� to the two people sitting at the table in the kitchen. David and Jillian leapt to their feet in confusion, and turned towards the voice. When they did, they saw four people standing there, with guns pointed directly at them. Automatically, their hands flew up in surrender, and Ziva advanced towards Barker, intending to pat him down for any weapons. Fornell jerked his gun towards Jillian, and told Liz, “Templeton, go check out the woman,� while he and Gibbs stood guard.

“Hands on your head and spread your legs, now!� Ziva hissed after she had grabbed Barker and pushed him face forwards against the nearest wall. When he complied, she pulled the gun out of the holster at his hip, automatically checked that the safety was on, then tossed it to Gibbs, and began a thorough search for any other hidden weapons.

Templeton had moved towards Jillian, and was reaching out to grab her left arm, intending to twirl her around, when Jillian lashed out with her other hand, chopping across the wrist on Liz’s gun hand, causing her to loosen her grip on the gun, and allowing Jillian to grab it. The terror that sparked with the recognition of Gibbs and the Mossad officer had Jillian reacting without thought, self preservation overwhelming rational responses. Her military training kicked in, and the moves she employed were all ingrained responses to an enemy laying hands on her. While Liz was trying to recover, Jillian swung the palm of her other hand into Liz’s windpipe, temporarily stunning her and causing her to fall to the ground. David saw what had happened out of the corner of his eye, and lashed out with his foot, catching Ziva on the shoulder as she was beginning to straighten back up, having just patted down his legs and ankles looking for a concealed gun. Ziva lost her balance and landed on her butt, but before David could move, Ziva had sprung back onto her feet in a crouch and lunged forward, tackling David behind the knees, sending him to the ground next to her. While this was going on, Jillian raised the gun she’d grabbed out of Liz’s hands and aimed it at Fornell. Seeing this, Gibbs immediately pulled his trigger, hitting Jillian in the right shoulder, causing her to fall backwards. The gun went spiraling out of Jillian’s hand and skittered across the floor, towards where Ziva and David were now rolling around, in a deadly struggle to establish dominance. As Jillian flew back, her head slammed against the kitchen counter, knocking herself unconscious, and she crumpled to the floor next to Liz. With one threat temporarily eliminated, Gibbs and Fornell trained their guns on Ziva and Barker, but the pair was grappling so violently they couldn’t get a clean shot at the man.

All three agents in the kitchen watched as Ziva and Barker rolled around. When Barker was on top it was almost impossible to see Ziva, as he was at least a half a foot taller and easily had sixty or seventy pounds on her, but Gibbs wasn’t overly worried, having complete faith in Ziva’s skill in hand to hand combat. He wondered whether Barker would survive the struggle, but he couldn’t bring himself to call out a reminder to Ziva that Jenny wanted the perps captured alive. He’d be just as happy to watch Ziva snap the man’s neck, and planned to shoot him through the head himself, if it looked as though the impossible might happen, and the man managed to overpower his agent. From where she lay on the floor, Liz watched the Mossad agent wrestle with Barker, and couldn’t help but be in awe of the woman’s agility and strength. Fornell winced, when Ziva, who was now sitting on top of Barker’s chest, reached up and wrapped her hands through his hair, then proceeded to use that grip to bang his head against the floor repeatedly. When Barker ceased to move, Ziva sprang to her feet, and after delivering one more savage kick to the unconscious Barker’s side, she turned to face Gibbs, a wild and feral grin on her face. “Everything is now under control,� she told him calmly, and then she looked down at Templeton and asked, “Are you alright?� When Liz nodded mutely, Ziva reached out a hand and pulled the FBI agent to her feet.

“Kitchen clear, two hostiles down,� Gibbs said into his headset, as he nodded his head towards the hall door.

“Stay here and watch these two,� Fornell ordered Liz, as he fixed her with a disappointed stare, and handed her back her gun, which he had just scooped off the floor. Without another word, he turned his back on her and followed Ziva and Gibbs as they began to progress down the hallway off the kitchen.

White and Garrison had jumped when they heard the sound of a gunshot coming from the kitchen and had frantically grabbed for the weapons sitting on the table beside them, White grabbing the shotgun and Garrison a semi-automatic. Once armed, they had stilled, listening for any more sounds that would give them a clue as to what was going on. “What in the hell’s happening?� Garrison whispered to White.

“I don’t know, but I doubt if either Jillian or David shot at each other, so I’m betting it’s the cops or NCIS,� White whispered back. In the distance they could hear the sound of a fight, and they stood up from their chairs, preparing to investigate. They were just beginning to move towards the door when they heard footsteps in the hall, and a female voice calling out, “Clear,� followed by the sound of a door opening and a male voice echoing the “Clear.� Garrison and White both realized what that meant. The cops were there!

Gibbs, Ziva and Fornell were progressing down the hallway, having checked the pantry and the laundry room, and were headed for what the ground plan had described as a small bedroom at the end of the hall, when shots rang out of that door, hitting the ceiling and sending plaster debris raining down on their heads.

“Get down,� Gibbs called out, as he fired at the door. He knew he'd missed when the doorway beside him erupted into wooden splinters, a few embedding in the back of his vest and in his shoulder. He saw Ziva trying to crawl her way towards the doorway just up ahead of them, which had to be where the shots were coming from, but before she got even a foot along her journey, there was another shot and the plaster was raining down on them again, along with pieces of lathing, and suddenly, he, Fornell and Ziva were all firing in a staccato rhythm that was counterpoint to the shots being fired in their direction. There were so many bullets flying up and down the hallway, it was amazing to him the hallway was still intact, not to mention the three of them. He knew he had to replace his clip, as he had been subconsciously counting his shots, and as he flipped the spent clip out of his gun, and pushed the new one in, he heard a yelp from down the hallway, and then there was just the sound of Fornell's automatic, a loud booming reverberating off the walls and ceiling, as the people shooting at them were apparently reloading, too. Ziva began to move again, and Gibbs was about to join her when she suddenly jumped up and threw herself towards the doorway from which the shots were coming, shooting with both her primary and back up pieces simultaneously. Gibbs' could feel his heart move up to his throat at the sight, and only started breathing when she hit the floor on the other side of the doorway, and went into a roll. He knew she was unhit, if a bit bruised, and if that move didn't deserve a headslap, nothing ever had before.

Liz had been standing in the kitchen, listening to the sound of gunfight coming from the hall, trying to decide what to do. She knew Fornell had told her to stay put and guard the two people in the kitchen, but they were unconscious, and it sounded as if her team needed her. The incident with the female hostile had made her look bad to the other agents, and she felt the need to redeem herself by offering back-up. Decision made, Liz edged her way out into the hallway, moving as quietly as possible. She had just gotten out there when Ziva took her rolling dive to the other side of the doorway, and Gibbs and Fornell had edged closer to the other side of the door. As Liz stood behind them, she saw Gibbs signal to Ziva, indicating that he would go in high and she was to go in low. As she watched, she saw the Mossad agent nod her understanding, and as one, they moved through the door, with Fornell moving forward to offer back-up.

Once they were in the room, Gibbs and Ziva saw two men, sprawled on the ground, both bleeding from multiple bullet wounds, one clutching a riffle against his chest, which was aimed towards the door, and the other holding a semi-automatic in his hand. Ziva moved forward and kicked the automatic out of Garrison’s hand, while Gibbs moved towards White. Fornell was just about to step all the way into the room, when he heard a sound behind him. Spinning around, gun aimed forward, he had barely stopped himself from pulling the trigger, when he saw Templeton looked at him with wide eyes. As this had been going on, Gibbs had kicked at White’s hand to dislodge the rifle. Unfortunately, when Gibbs kicked White's gun away, his finger had reflexively tightened on the trigger, and a shot went wild, hitting Fornell in the arm. Gibbs heard Tobias grunt when he was hit, and moved immediately towards him to see how badly he was hurt, while Ziva stood with her gun trained on the two downed men.

When he got over to where Fornell was leaning against the doorframe, clutching his arm he saw Templeton standing in the hall. He exploded, immediately knowing that Templeton’s approach was what had distracted Fornell, allowing for him to get shot. “What in the hell are you doing here?� he demanded. “Fornell ordered you to stay in the kitchen, guarding Barker and the woman. Haven’t you done enough already? Get your ass back to the kitchen, Agent Templeton, and don’t move until I say you can. Do you read me?!?� he roared. As Templeton managed to stutter out a quiet, “Yes Sir,� he looked at Fornell, who had visibly paled. “Tobias, how bad are you hit?� he asked.

“Not bad, not much more than a graze,� Fornell assured him, although the amount of blood seeping out around and between his fingers suggested otherwise. Before Gibbs could even answer him, Fornell began to slide down the doorframe, until he was sitting on the floor, his back leaning against the frame that was the only thing holding him up. Gibbs knew he didn’t have any choice but to leave him there for now. While they had been moving down the hallway, he’d heard Bravo Team report that the front of the house was secure, and that they were moving upstairs. According to the plan, his team was supposed to join Bravo in clearing the upstairs, and although he wanted nothing more than to go in search of Tony, years of sticking to a mission plan prevented him from straying from the prearranged plan.

“Ziva,� Gibbs called. “Come put pressure on Fornell’s arm, while you keep your eye on those two.� Switching on his radio, he said, “Back of the house clear. Two perps down in the back bedroom with gunshot wounds, one agent down with a shot to the arm. Two more hostiles down in the kitchen, one with a gunshot wound. I’m moving out to join Bravo Team, leaving a team member in the bedroom and another in the kitchen to guard the perps.� When Ziva had taken her place beside Fornell, pressing hard on his arm, while she kept a gun trained on the unconscious men with her other hand, Gibbs began to move back down the hallway, stepping over the debris.

As he stepped into the living room, and saw Kaiser standing, holding a gun on two men who were gagged and tied, he heard Balboa’s voice come over the radio. “Charlie Team reporting. Basement clear of hostiles, and we have DiNozzo.� Gibbs paused, waiting for more information, and when none came, he cursed quietly. Once again, it took all of his self discipline to stop himself from abandoning the plan, and rushing to the basement, to see Tony for himself, to check on his condition, to make sure he was alive. Instead, he forced himself to move up the stairs, determined to end this quickly, so he could go to Tony.

Back at NCIS headquarters, Jenny stood in MTAC, listening in frustration to the transmissions from the mission over the speakers there, wishing they had set up a visual feed as well. Down in her lab, Abby and Courtney were doing the same thing, since Abby had tapped into the transmission as soon as the two women had gotten back there, determined not to miss out on what transpired. All three women were holding their collective breaths, wondering which agent had been hit, and wanting more information on Tony’s condition. “Please don’t let it have been Ziva,� Abby said quietly, when she heard someone on Gibbs’ team had been hit, and Courtney had reached out and pulled her into a tight hug.

“Gibbs said it was a shot to the arm, Abby, so it can’t be too bad,� Courtney tried to reassure her.

“Why didn’t they say how Tony was doing?� Abby asked Courtney, refusing to be soothed.

“They can’t tie up the radio. If he’d been dead, I’m sure they would have said something,� she assured Abby.

“I wish I was there,� Abby said quietly, wiping furiously at the tears that were once again forming in her eyes. It seemed as if she had lost all control over her emotions during the last couple of days, swinging erratically from euphoria to fear at the drop of a hat, and even though she understood it was due to exhaustion, she was powerless to stop the pendulum of emotions. Courtney just held her tightly, as she too worked silently to conquer her own fears and sense of guilt over her complicity in the situation that was unfolding as they listened.

Charlie Team had encountered problems entering the house. When Gibbs had given the go, Balboa had flung open the storm cellar doors, fully expecting to find a set of stairs, not at all prepared to discover the only way down was a set of wooden slats, set into the wall, forming a primitive ladder. Cursing, when he almost fell, he pulled out his flashlight and shining the light down into the dark abyss, eased himself down the ladder, with McGee leaning through the opening, his gun drawn, ready to provide cover. When Balboa’s feet touched the ground, he turned away from the wall, and swept the beam of his flashlight around the room, not finding any signs of occupants. “Clear,� he called up to McGee, who began to climb down, followed by Henderson and McGuire. When all four agents had their flashlights out to help illuminate the gloom, they began to realize that this was where the DVD must have been filmed. Scattered around the room were powerful work lights, affixed to stands, and Balboa followed the electrical cord on the ground, until he found the outlet. Bending down, he inserted the plug to the extension cord, and the room was suddenly ablaze in light. “Christ,� Balboa said, as soon as his eyes adjusted to the change in light. They could all see the meat hooks suspended from the beams in the ceiling, with chains hanging down from them. The ground below was covered in rock, stained a deep rusty brown, and they all knew that it was Tony’s blood they were seeing.

Next to the stairs that led up to kitchen on the main floor was a small hallway, with one door on the right side. The team moved to surround the door, alert to the possibility that hostiles might be inside the room. Reaching out, Balboa tried the door handle, only to discover the room was locked. Backing up as far as he could, he lifted up a leg, and gave the door a savage kick. Wood exploded, and the door swung open, as it shattered where the bolt of the lock had been engaged. Lunging into the room, Balboa was almost bowled over by the stench that greeted him, a sickening combination of blood, sweat, and urine, and although he couldn’t see anything in the dark, he knew they’d found DiNozzo.

McGee fumbled along the wall next to the door, until his hand connected with a light switch, which he quickly flicked on, bathing the tiny room in a weak yellowish light, from a single overhead bulb. Across the room from them was a cot, on which Tony lay, virtually naked and motionless, although the soft sporadically stuttered gasp for air assured them that at least he was alive. One of his arms hung down at an unnatural angle, and they could see that it had been handcuffed to the leg of the bed. “Oh my God,� Henderson said, swallowing back the bile that threatened to erupt when he stepped into the room and saw DiNozzo for the first time. Nothing on the DVD had prepared any of them for the reality of the situation, and they all stood there, frozen for one brief moment, as the shock of what they were seeing overpowered them. McGee was the first to snap into action, rushing over to where Tony lay. Remembering what he had promised Ziva, he pulled out his cell phone and punched in Jimmy’s number. He knew Gibbs had not given the all clear for the house, but looking at Tony, and hearing how shallow his breathing was, McGee was afraid Tony didn’t have a lot of time. When Jimmy answered, McGee said, “Jimmy, its McGee. I need you and Ducky to drive your truck up to the side of the house by the storm cellar doors. We’ve found Tony in the basement, and he needs help, right away. It’s hard to get down here, so call for us when you get here, and we’ll come help. Be careful, we haven’t cleared the house yet. Just hurry, okay?�

Balboa had listened while McGee was speaking, and although he was supposed to be in charge of the team, he found he couldn’t argue with McGee’s call. It didn’t sound like DiNozzo was breathing well at all, his skin was slick with sweat, indicating he was running a high fever, and he was smeared in dried blood, although some of the welts on his side seemed to still be seeping fresh blood. His entire abdomen area was covered in a vicious bruise, which was already a dark purple in color, and Balboa wondered if he had broken ribs as well. He realized that both of Tony’s shoulders must be dislocated, since they were swollen and looked slightly deformed. The cot itself was covered in blood, and he shuddered to think what DiNozzo’s back must look like. Turning back to face McGuire, he said, “Go cover the stairs leading up to the kitchen, in case a hostile tries to get down here. Henderson, you go wait by the cellar doors and help Dr. Mallard and his assistant down, when they arrive.� When the men had gone, he looked down at McGee, who was speaking softly to DiNozzo.

“Tony, it’s Tim,� McGee said gently. When he got no response, he tried again, a little louder this time, “Tony, can you hear me. It’s McGee.� This time Tony seemed to stir some, although the slight movement of his head caused him to start coughing violently.

As he stood watching, feeling helpless, Balboa realized he hadn’t given the all clear, and after turning on his radio, he said, “Charlie Team reporting. Basement clear of hostiles, and we have DiNozzo.� He didn’t really know what else to say. There was no way to describe the horror they’d stumbled into. “McGee,� Balboa said, as he watched the younger agent try to help DiNozzo. “We need to get that cuff off his hand. Move over so I can take a crack at it.� He knelt down beside McGee, pulling a lock picking kit out of his back pocket. While Balboa worked on the handcuff, McGee frantically continued to try and rouse Tony, not knowing whether Tony was in a coma, or merely unconscious.

Tony’s coughing was abating slightly, but his breath was coming out in alarmingly loud wheezes now, and it was clear he wasn’t getting enough air. Suddenly Tony’s eyes cracked open, and he looked around in a daze. McGee took a deep breath in relief.

“Tony, relax, its me, Tim,� McGee said, when Tony struggled to sit up, yanking on his imprisoned arm, and then gasping in pain. He attempted to lift his other arm, but it refused to move, and again he cried out in pain. The sheet under Tony was stuck to his back as he rolled onto his side in an attempt to sit up in order to get away, as he looked over at the two NCIS agents kneeling before him, with glazed and uncomprehending eyes. “Tony, calm down. You’re safe now. It’s me, Tim,� McGee tried again, as Tony swung out at them with his legs, clearly not recognizing either man. In his struggle, the sheet had ripped away from his body, breaking away the partial scabbing over his wounds, and from the position McGee was in, he could see pools of blood beginning to pour from the lacerations across his back and legs. Not knowing what else to do, McGee reached out and grabbed Tony’s face, in an attempt to force him to stop struggling, but that only served to make Tony struggle more violently, as he shook his head to dislodge McGee’s hands. During all this, Balboa succeeded in opening the lock, and now Tony was able to force his body upright, as he fought against his perceived attackers. The coughing began again, and Tony’s struggles weakened, as he collapsed forward, fighting feebly for both air and his freedom.

McGee was still trying to subdue a wheezing, groaning and coughing Tony, when Ducky and Palmer rushed into the room, both carrying large medical bags full of supplies. “Oh dear Lord,� Ducky said quietly, when he saw Tony. “My poor boy.�

Hearing Ducky’s voice, McGee cried, “He’s delirious Ducky, and doesn’t seem to know me. I can’t get him to stop fighting, and I don’t know where it’s safe to touch him. He’s covered in welts and cuts, and I don’t think he can even move his arms.� By now McGee’s hands were slick with Tony’s blood, and he was finding it even more difficult to keep Tony on the cot, as his wet hands slid across his body, but he was afraid to push Tony down by his shoulders.

Ducky hurried over to the bed, and assessed the situation. “I need him lying down, Timothy. I want to start him on IV’s right away, but I’ll need him to be still in order to get the lines in. You and Palmer are just going to have to hold him still.�

“But where do I grab him, Ducky? His entire body is covered in wounds,� McGee said desperately.

“Go ahead and grasp him by the shoulders, Tim; I don’t think you can do much more damage than has already been done. Mr. Palmer, I will need you to secure his legs.�

That was how Gibbs found them, when he charged into the room, mere minutes later. By the time he had gotten to the second floor, Dobbs and his two men, had already cleared all the open rooms, and were in the process of breaking the lock on the room where Galvin was imprisoned. Galvin had been overjoyed to see them, and Gibbs stayed just long enough to make sure that Galvin was okay, then told Dobbs to stay with him there, in the room, until backup arrived. Gibbs had then announced over the radio that the house was secure, and Galvin had been found alive and well, and called for backup, the FBI forensic teams, and medical assistance. Then he had turned, and rushed back down the stairs, heading for the kitchen, totally ignoring a startled Templeton as he wrenched open the door that led to the basement stairs. When he’d gotten to the bottom of the stairs McGuire gestured to the hallway, knowing Gibbs had come to see about his agent for himself. He had been horrified when he entered the room, to see McGee forcefully holding a struggling and wheezing Tony down, with Jimmy Palmer sitting on his weakly kicking legs, and Ducky kneeling on the floor beside them, saying loudly, “Tony, you must stop this immediately.�

“What in the fuck is going on here?� Gibbs demanded.

“He’s fighting us Jethro, and he’s going to do himself more damage. He doesn’t seem to know who we are, and I can’t help him if he doesn’t lie still. Speak to him, maybe he’ll respond to you,� Ducky said urgently.

“Tony,� Gibbs said, as he moved to stand next to where Ducky knelt. When Tony didn’t seem to register him at all, Gibbs knew that words weren’t going to do it. Leaning over, he reached out and smacked Tony on the top of his head, none too gently, as he called out, “DiNozzo, cut it out.� Behind him, Balboa and his team, who had drifted back into the room, gasped in shock, although McGee, Ducky and Palmer didn’t seem the least bit concerned.

Balboa and his people were even more amazed when Tony stilled, and managed to say in a hoarse, barely audible voice, “Boss?�

“Yeah, Tony, it’s me. Now stop fighting and let Ducky help you,� Gibbs said, as relief washed over him, and he released the breath he’d been holding. At least Tony was able to speak, although Gibbs couldn’t understand how that was possible, giving the extent of his injuries.

Tony’s head rotated to the side, and through the narrow slits of his eyes, he seemed to see Ducky for the first time. “Hey Ducky, when did you get here?� he croaked out. Before Ducky could even respond something else seemed to occur to Tony, and he struggled once again to try and sit up. “Liz…. alright?� he asked desperately between coughs. “Is Liz okay?� he managed to wheeze out, before the coughing started up again in full force.

Gibbs looked down at Tony, absolutely stunned. There was Tony, desperately gasping for air, fighting for his life, and all he could think about was the safety of his partner; while Liz, who had merely been hit with a stun gun, couldn’t be bothered to show any concern for Tony’s well being. “She’s fine,� he growled. Then, more gently he pleaded, “Just try and lie still now, Tony, so Ducky can fix you up.�

With Palmer’s help, Ducky was able to get Tony to lie back down, and he quickly pulled out the equipment needed to start an IV line in Tony’s arm, so he could get fluids and the antibiotics Dr. Pitt had sent over from Bethesda going. “We need the paramedics, now, Jethro,� he said tersely, once the line was established. “Can they land the Medivac anywhere near the house?� he asked. “The sooner we get him to Bethesda, the better his chances,� he said, as he looked at Tony, who had once again slipped into unconsciousness.

Gibbs turned on his radio and said, “We need a team of paramedics down in the basement, ASAP, and then the Life Flight helicopter. There’s room for it to land in the front of the house.� Looking over at McGee, he said, “Fornell got shot in the arm, and Ziva’s with him. They’re in the bedroom off of the kitchen. Go see how he’s doing, McGee. We’ll send him to Bethesda with Tony.�

“What about the other wounded?� McGee asked, before he headed up.

“All hostiles,� Gibbs grunted. “They can take their chances with the local hospital. I don’t give a damn if they all die,� he said vehemently, as he looked back down at Tony’s wrecked body, and listened to him struggling to breath.

Ducky looked over at Balboa and his team. Realizing Gibbs wasn’t able to focus on anything but Tony, Ducky said, “Perhaps it would be best if you gentlemen go and see if you can be of any assistance upstairs. There isn’t much more that can be done for Tony right now.�

When only Ducky and Palmer remained, Gibbs couldn’t contain his worry any longer, and in a tight voice, laced with far more than the normal amount of concern a team leader would show for a fallen comrade, he managed to say, “Tell me everything that’s wrong with him, Ducky.�

Ducky stood and gently grasped Gibbs’ arm, then moved them both away from Tony. Even though Tony was unconscious, Ducky didn’t want to risk him waking up while they were having this discussion, and inadvertently overhearing something that would only serve to worry him. Once Ducky felt they were safely out of earshot, he said quietly, “It’s pretty much as both Jimmy and I told you before, after we’d seen the DVD. Both of his shoulders are most definitely dislocated, and besides being very painful, there may have been damage to the muscles, tendons, and blood vessels around the area. We won’t know about that until we can get him to the hospital and they have x-rayed the area. His feet are ripped to shreds, and it will be days before he can step on them without experiencing a great deal of pain. I’m sure you can tell that he has clearly developed bronchitis. Whether it has progressed to full blown pneumonia will once again have to wait, since an x-ray will be needed for that diagnosis. Several of the wounds on his back are infected, and have started to fester. I can’t be sure of the magnitude of the infection, although his temperature is 102, but again, I can’t be sure if that is a result of the infection or pneumonia. The bruise on his abdomen is worrisome, but I can’t tell whether he has broken ribs, or any internal bleeding. Yet again, only x-rays will tell us that.�

“So what in the hell can you tell me?� Gibbs snapped in frustration, not really mad at Ducky, but needing desperately to release a small bit of the anger that consumed him.

Ducky didn’t take any offense; he was actually impressed that Gibbs hadn’t resorted to physical violence as a way of dealing with his anger and fear. “What I can tell you, Jethro, is that Tony is very ill. I don’t think he will die, but I cannot promise you that, since a less strong willed person would most likely already be dead. Fortunately, Tony never does the expected, and he’s almost as stubborn as you, so that will work in his favor. If he does survive, it will take him weeks to recover, however, and it is far too soon to even speculate about whether there will be permanent damage. At the very least, I think it is safe to say he will always have some scars from the deepest of the lacerations caused by the whip.�

Gibbs wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, to punch his fists into a wall, to take out his gun and shoot every one of the perps upstairs, but knew he couldn’t. Instead he had to settle for going back over to Tony, taking one of his limp hands in his own, and murmuring assurances as he waited for the paramedics to get there.