I found this and decided... why not? Short, and ridiculous. Please enjoy. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own any of the characters in this story.

Tony looked up at a sky he had never known before; memorizing it while trying to catch his breath. It was definitely different than home, he decided. Foreign. The blue was almost faded, the clouds worn and tired, and he identified with them. Sometime soon he would make a decision to gather enough energy to remove his tired body from the slightly sun-warmed concrete. His arm was throbbing with every heartbeat as the heated blood rushed around the damaged limb, and his skin burned where Ziva had just been, straddling his prone form, holding a gun to his chest, to his leg.

He couldn't gather the strength to even sit up, let alone stand, knowing that a previously dulled fire in his broken arm would return with a vengeance after being handled so roughly. He closed his eyes against the harsh sun. It was different, he thought, perhaps it had moved a few degrees in the sky. He didn't know how long he had been there before he heard footsteps on the hard, foreign ground somewhere in the near distance. The echoing stopped for a few moments, and he pictured a dark skinned Israeli, pondering who he was and why he was there. The footsteps came faster now, and he expected an arrival soon. The agile stepping sounds were accompanied with a shout of 'Tony!' from a familiar voice.

In seconds, he could feel a gaze on him, and hands gently grasping his arm. His eyelids blinked open, and he was met by a steely blue gaze, filled with concern. "DiNozzo…"

"Just help me up, Boss," Tony ordered, frustrated that Gibbs had been the one to find him, weak and unguarded.

Gibbs placed a supportive hand on Tony's uninjured shoulder and eased him into a sitting position. Tony's eyes slammed shut like an unhinged window, a kneejerk reaction to the pain. He knew the wince on his face would only worry Gibbs more, but it was all he could do to prevent himself from whimpering.

Gibbs' eyes drifted to his agent's injured arm, slightly loose from the sling. Tony's face was still scrunched up in pain, slowly returning to its normal position. Eyes still closed, the senior field agent raised a hand, indicating that he needed help to stand. Gibbs hesitantly stood and gently took the hand, pulling as Tony stood.

Tony dared to open his eyes again, only to find the horizon tilting. He swayed and feared falling once again, but rough hands grasped his arm.

"Easy, Tony. Let's get you back inside." Despite Tony's internal protests against help, the reassuring hand was comforting.