***********************8

Gibbs felt relief at being alone again—except he wasn't alone. Ducky had left him with explicit instructions regarding everything Tony, from changing the IV bag, to checking his respiration. He pulled up a chair and sat down. His patient was breathing steadily, his body initiating the process of healing itself. With the help of the antibiotics, Ducky thinks he should make a full recovery.

Until the next time.

"Why were you taken, Tony? What did they want?"

There was no answer, of course. His agent lay sleeping, passed out from the physical exertion of fighting the straps and the mental exertion of dealing with the pain. The tie-downs had long since been removed, but not the belts that tied his legs and wrists. He bent down under the table and unhooked them, removing the leather from Tony's wrists and ankles, rubbing each one to encourage circulation. Following Ducky's instructions, he reached over and laid his hand gently on Tony's forehead. Good sign, no fever.

"Okay, Tony, you're gonna be fine." He said more to convince himself than his house guest.

Chapter 9

Gibbs was startled awake by a noise. He rolled off the plank and forced the cobwebs from his head. His first thought came out his mouth, "Tony?"

"Boss?"

Stumbling to his agent's side, he asked, "How're ya feeling?"

"Not so good. I think I'm gonna be sick…"

Gibbs grabbed a bucket and helped Tony roll over. There was nothing in his stomach, but that didn't stop the wave of nausea. Exhausted, he laid back, catching his breath and fighting off the pain in his gut. "Was Ducky… was he successful?"

"Yeah. He got the bullet out, and the piece of fabric. You're hooked up to antibiotics now."

Tony lulled his head and it was evident he was fighting off more nausea. "Breathe through it, Tony, I'll be right back." He set the bucket on the floor and rubbed his hands over his face before he ascended the steps towards hot water and coffee. When he returned, he was carrying two mugs, but it looked as though his senior field agent had fallen back asleep. He watched the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest while sipping on the hot liquid.

"Boss?"

"Yeah."

Tony didn't say another word.

"Here, I brought you some coffee." He helped him take a sip, but it did not set well. "Keep it down, Tony. Try to, at least."

Tony swallowed multiple times, concentrating on anything but how much his stomach was rejecting the liquid.

"I have to go into the office today. If I don't, they'll get suspicious." Gibbs studied his senior field agent. "You'll be okay. I'll check on you in a couple hours."

He nodded.

"Ducky left me with specific instructions to get you up and moving as soon as possible. That means that you're going to have to get up and walk around before I can leave, and I have to leave soon."

Tony rolled his eyes. The last thing he wanted to do was start moving about, but the proposition did have one good result, "I have to hit the head."

Gibbs set his mug down and slid his hand under Tony's shoulders, lifting him up. He ignored the objections that spewed from his agent's mouth. Holding him steady by his shoulder, he moved around the table and carefully swung Tony's legs around.

"Don't you have anything for the pain?"

"Advil."

"Give me some," Tony hissed, trying to shut it out.

Gibbs disconnected the IV, helped his agent slide off the table, and took most of his weight as he walked and Tony limped to the bathroom.

By the time they returned, Tony was in even more pain than earlier, and his breathing gave it away. Gibbs helped him back down on the table, reconnected the IV, and checked the bandage. "Here, take these."

Tony took the pain medication that somewhere in the back recesses of his brain, he knew wouldn't dent the agony he was in.

"After I change your bandage I have to go. I'll be back soon. Don't try to leave this basement."

"Where would I go?" he answered, sardonically.

Chapter 10

Tony lay on the table until the realization set in that he was never going to get comfortable. Gibbs had returned as promised, made him lunch, gave him more Advil, checked his bandages, changed the IV bag, and left again.

Looking in the mirror, the person staring back at him looked like shit. The bruising around his eyes had deepened and the cuts on his arms and legs were bleeding again. He couldn't stand for very long, so his trip to the head was only when Gibbs came home. He wondered what they had told the FBI. He didn't dare venture upstairs, not only because he wasn't sure he could make it, but he somehow knew the men in black would still be parked in front and the last thing he needed was for one of them to come walking through the front door.

There was one saving grace amongst all this anguish, and as he lay on the table, he stared at it: the bottle of Jack Daniels. That would surely kill the pain. He figured out how to disconnect his IV and with considerable effort, made it over to the workbench and accidentally knocked the bottle off the shelf. It hit the bench hard, but didn't shatter. Not bothering to get a cup, he took a long swig, letting it burn as it made its way down his throat.

He limped back to his makeshift bed and leaned against it, thinking about yesterday and the operation he endured. The last thing he remembered was… He shook his head because his memory was fuzzy. He thought back again, trying to remember as much of the day as possible when a vision suddenly came to him—"Oh my God!" he whispered. "She kissed me!"

After a moment of desperately trying to recall the image, he finally gave up and chuckled at the thought. It sobered him as he remembered her lips being soft, her mouth being hot, and her scent being intoxicating. That was just before everything went black.

The kiss. Ziva's kiss. Was it real? Was it a dream? Was it wishful thinking? He wanted to believe that it had happened, that his partner had actually kissed him, but she would never have done that. Gibbs never would have allowed it. Or would he?

But it did happen. She did kiss him.

Then again, maybe she didn't; maybe he had imagined it. That's probably the more likely scenario. Yeah, he imagined it all… just wishful thinking on his part.

Chapter 11

Tony was never so happy to be home. He had been cooped up in Gibbs' basement for three days and he longed for a shower. And company. And answers. So far, he knew nothing of why he had been nabbed.

The hot water pummeled his body until it ran cold. He was moving slow, but he was moving without too much discomfort, thanks to Ducky and his expert hand, and a few white capsules he had been given.

"C'mon, Tony!"

"Keep your knickers on!" he yelled from the bathroom. He dried off and dressed, wondering why McGee was pushing him. "Why are you in such a hurry?"

Tim put down the magazine he'd been thumbing through and answered, "Because—unlike you—I'd like to get to work on time. I'm not accustomed to your schedule."

"Relax, McHurry. It's good to show up late sometimes. I'm not too sure why you're here anyways?"

"Boss is worried they'll go after you again."

"And he sent you to protect me?"

"Yes, Tony, he sent me. He couldn't very well send—"

Tony stopped and waited. "He couldn't very well send who?"

"You know."

"No, I don't know. Who?"

"Ziva."

Tony narrowed his eyes, remembering. He'd all but pushed that out of his mind as a figment of his imagination. "Why couldn't he send Ziva?"

"You don't remember?"

"Not really."

McGee felt a little weight lift from his shoulders and shrugged, "Ziva sort of kissed you."

So it was true! He hadn't dreamt it! "Ah ha! I knew it! I knew it wasn't something I imagined!"

"Let's go. We're late enough as it is."

"Come back here! I want to know why!"

Chapter 12

When they arrived, the bullpen was vacant. "Where is everyone?"

McGee put his weapon away and shrugged, "I don't know."

Tony surveyed the room, then sat down, slowly, moving gingerly and inspecting his work area. Exactly as he'd left it. He opened his email and started reading. There was nothing exciting there, no cases to work, and as far as he knew, he was their case right now. Sauntering back over to McGee's desk, he asked, "Why were the dogs called off?"

McGee had waited all morning for that question, and just when he was beginning to think he wouldn't have to face it, here it came. "You'll have to ask Gibbs that question."

"Ask me what?"

"Oh, hey Boss," Tony said, slightly flinching as Gibbs walked behind him. "I was wondering why I'm no longer on the FBI's most wanted list."

"And the CIAs," McGee added helpfully.

"It helps to have friends in high places, DiNozzo."

"The President?"

"Not that high."

"The Secretary of the Navy?"

"Yep."

He didn't get any more details because he really didn't need any more details. But it didn't explain everything. "So who nabbed me in the first place?"

"Well, DiNozzo, why don't you do what you're hired to do and investigate that crime."

Tony sauntered back to his desk and mumbled, "Kinda hard to do when you're both the evidence AND the crime scene." He pulled up the case file and read it. Since he wrote it, there was nothing in it that was helpful. Before he closed it he knew this was going to become a cold case. There wouldn't be anything documented about the FBI or CIAs involvement and even if there was something, it'd be redacted. The only evidence was the bullet and he'd bet dollars to doughnuts that ballistics wouldn't produce any relevant information on it. Not even Abby would be able to trace it.

Tony leaned back and contemplated the last week. Originally he thought he was lucky that they let him live, but now he realized that it was less about luck and more about strategy. A dead body, HIS dead body, would have sent Gibbs on the warpath and the Boss wasn't prone to stopping until he found answers. On the other hand, a roughed up body and orders from SECNAV to drop it would satisfy all parties involved. So, whoever kidnapped him and beat the crap out of him and ultimately shot him, never did learn much about the Black Ops program, but maybe that was just a guise anyways. Maybe they were looking for something else; like how the three agencies responded to a mutual threat.

Now THAT had merit and was worth investigating. He stretched, still hurting from the surgery. He stared at the empty chair and tried to remember the kiss. It was almost impossible at this point. "Where's Ziva?"

McGee looked up.

Gibbs shifted slightly before answering, "She's visiting a friend."

"Who?"

Impatience showed on the boss' face mostly because he knew Tony wouldn't let up until he had answers. The very thing that made him such a great investigator also made him annoying as hell. It was useless to even try. "She's with Ray."

"Oh." Tony wasn't sure how he felt about that. He knew he didn't like Ray Cruz mainly because he felt that Ziva was too good for him.

He stared at her empty chair, unaware that they were staring at him. The kiss was still foggy and he could barely remember it. It was more that he remembered a feeling instead of the actual act. Thank goodness, else he'd probably be able to remember the operation, as well as other unseemly acts of barbarism.

"McGee?"

"Don't even ask Tony. I have no recollection of anything."

"Just verify something for me."

"What?"

Gibbs listened patiently. He knew the only person who would cave under the scrutiny of questions was McGee and that it never took much to get him to spill his guts. As he sat there pretending to read a file, he realized he was also interested in what McGee had to say about Ziva's actions that night in his basement. He had walked in on the tail end of the kiss, so there was a certain amount of curiosity that surrounded the deed.

Tony leaned forward, intently, and asked, "Did you actually eat pizza while I was lying in Gibbs' basement…dying?"

~~ Fini

I'm forcing myself to finish several of my stories, which is why I'm posting them now. They aren't the most original nor are they the best written, and some even fall into the category of plain ol' gratuitous 'hurt porn' (which is probably why I stopped writing them in the first place), but I am trying to make them post worthy. I apologize in advance to those I disappoint; since I have fifty unfinished stories, I could be writing in the NCIS universe awhile. As always, any comments are appreciated, even the TIVA ones. I've learned to never talk politics, religion or TIVA. Happy Reading!

~Jasmine