Hair of the Dog

Written as a Hangman fic for Gallatea. Prompt was a fic containing these three words: chocolate, yarn, and juggle. They're in the second part, and the title will make sense by the end ;) Two-Shot.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort/Friendship

Characters: Tony and Tim, mainly, and brief appearances by the rest of the gang

Disclaimer: Don't own. Yadda yadda.

Summary: In the aftermath of nature's fury, two agents are trapped in a damaged building. Will the rest of the team get to them in time?

"I don't like the look of that sky," declared McGee as he climbed out of the agency sedan, his gaze fixed on the western horizon.

Tony glanced up at dark storm clouds gathering and shook his head when he saw his partner's worried expression.

"Relax, McWeatherman, it's just a little thunderstorm. Besides, it's February: too early in the year for tornados. Let's go."

"Not necessarily true, Tony. They can occur any time the conditions are right." He cast one more worried glance over his shoulder as he followed his partner up the path to the old farmhouse.

"Personally I'd be more worried about what we'll find in there," said Tony. "It looks like Norman Bates' vacation home."

The dwelling in question was the listed residence of one Leonard Campbell, a possible suspect in their most recent case of a murdered Marine, Sergeant Douglas Hanley. Campbell was Hanley's former platoon member, and had been dishonorably discharged based in part on the evidence Hanley had presented against him. Gibbs had given them the task of questioning Campbell, so the two agents had driven to a rural area of southern Virginia in search of their quarry.

"Doesn't look that bad to me," the younger man observed. "We've definitely seen worse."

"Considering some of the places we've seen, that's not a ringing endorsement, McGee."

Tim just shook his head as Tony led the way up the front porch steps and paused at the door where he raised his hand to knock. The first hit caused the door to swing inward and both men immediately stepped to the side, drawing their weapons as they did so.

"Mr. Campbell?" called Tony, but there was no response. He eased the door open and peeked inside. The house was quiet.

"Anything?" asked McGee and Tony shook his head. They eased into the house and cleared each of the first floor rooms before cautiously heading up the stairs to the second floor. They split up to check the front and back bedrooms, and Tony was on his way to check the bathroom when Tim called him. He reversed direction and moved towards his partner's voice. When he reached the front bedroom his followed McGee's gaze and sighed. "Looks like our case just got a lot more complicated."

A man, whom they strongly suspected was Campbell, was stretched out across a blood-soaked mattress. His wounds were quite similar to those they had already seen on Hanley.

"Looks like it," McGee muttered to himself as he pulled out his cell phone. "Only one bar. Let's hope it goes through." He hit the first number on speed dial as Tony surveyed the room.

"No signs of a struggle. Must have caught him while he was asleep."

McGee started to reply to Tony but quickly turned his attention to the person on the other end of his phone call. "Boss? Campbell's dead, looks like the same M.O. as Hanley. Yes, Boss. Got it." He turned to Tony as they ended the call. "They're on their way." He glanced out the bedroom window and frowned. The sky was a sickly gray-green color and the dark clouds were coalescing. He could see the branches of the trees just outside the window whipping back and forth in a crazed dance. "It's really looking bad out there," he said as he turned to Tony with a worried expression on his face. "I hope they can get here. Some of those roads were pretty rough and they'd be damn near impassible in a bad storm."

"They'll get here, McPessimist. Come on, let's get our gear from the car and get started." They didn't have a full scene kit, but the camera they carried would suffice for the initial documentation. They headed back down stairs and when they stepped outside, they were almost knocked over by the force of the wind.

"'It's just little thunderstorm'," muttered McGee as they forced their way through the wind to the sedan.

"Yeah, well, how was I supposed to know the weather'd turn crazy. Come on, I- wait, do you hear that?" They turned towards the source of the sound and froze. A huge, black churning mass was moving towards them at an alarming speed, with pieces of debris flying around the periphery, accompanied by a sound similar to an oncoming freight train.

McGee's paralysis was the first to break and he grabbed Tony by the arm. "Cellar, NOW!" They ran for the house, burst through the front door and dashed to the door that Tim remembered had led to the basement. They clambered down the steps and had just made it to the bottom of the staircase when they heard the tell-tale roar of the tornado.

"Duck and cover!" yelled Tony and they crouched next to the closest wall and covered their heads as the sounds of the house being torn apart drowned out everything else. Tony's covered his ears, closed his eyes and, for the first time in years seriously started to pray.

XXX

"Yeah, Gibbs," the lead agent barked as he attempted to steer the MCRT van through mid-day traffic.

"Jethro, I have some distressing news." The concern projected in the M.E. voice caught Gibbs' full attention. "The area where we are headed was just struck by a violent storm. Mr. Palmer has been keeping track of the event and there have been several reports of tornadoes in the area. I'm concerned that we may be unable to get through. Have you heard from Tony or Timothy?"

"No." He turned to Ziva. "Call Tony. Find out what's going on with the weather there."

"Yes, Gibbs." She dialed the number and frowned as she listened to the message. "Service unavailable." She hung up and then tried to call McGee. "Same message. What is happening, Gibbs?"

"Bad storm. Cell towers are probably out from that." He spoke into the phone again. "Can't reach them, Duck. Keep us posted."

"I will, Jethro."

Gibbs snapped his phone shut and glanced at Ziva, who was staring at him with a worried look in her eyes. "They're fine, Ziva."

She nodded, but the expression didn't leave her face. Gibbs returned his full attention to the road and tried not to think about the sinking feeling he'd had in his gut since Ducky's phone call.

XXX

Tony raised his head and opened his eyes, almost afraid to try and see what was causing the excruciating pain in his left ankle. Finally he ventured a look and grimaced. One of the timbers from the cellar ceiling had fallen across his ankle, pinning his leg to the floor. He reached down and tried to lift it with his hands but it was too heavy, so he maneuvered his right foot into the space beneath the hunk of wood and pushed as hard as he could, moving the timber just enough to allow him to jerk his other foot free. He bit back a scream of agony as his injured limb dragged across the rough floor and he collapsed against the cellar wall. Breathing heavily, he examined his ankle in dismay. It was badly bruised and wobbled unnaturally when he tried to move it, eliciting another groan of pain.

"Sure hope you fared better than I did, McGee," he muttered, and sucked in a breath when the realization finally hit him. "McGee?" He turned to his right, where he had last seen his partner, and froze. Beneath a pile of debris he could see a pale, bruised and battered hand.

Damn it!

He ignored his throbbing ankle and crawled over to the pile where he stared to dig through the pieces of wood and plaster until he uncovered his partner's head and neck, both of which were covered with a mixture of dust and blood. McGee's head was turned to the side, facing Tony. He pressed two fingers against the exposed side of McGee's neck and let out a sight of relief when he felt the slow but steady beat beneath his fingertips. He cleared away more of the debris and winced in sympathy. The back of McGee's coat was nearly shredded, and several dark stains were apparent, slowly spreading around the multitude of wounds the younger man had sustained. Two heavier pieces of wood lay across his lower back and upper legs, neither of which Tony was able to budge. He put one hand on Tim's shoulder and squeezed, hoping to wake him without causing further damage.

"McGee? You with me?" Tim didn't stir, leaving Tony with an even greater sense of dread. "C'mon, Tim, wake up," Tony cajoled as he squeezed Tim's shoulder harder. Finally he was rewarded with a soft moan and the sight of Tim's visible eye fluttering open. "There ya go, Probie. Wakey wakey."

"Wha…hap…n'd?"

"House fell on us. We're definitely not in Kansas anymore, McToto."

McGee groaned. "I can't…move."

"Yeah, part of the ceiling kind of fell on you, Tim. You're pinned down. I tried, couldn't move the boards." Suddenly a horrible thought struck him. "Can you move anything?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm. He grabbed McGee's hand and felt him squeeze his own hand in return. "What about your foot?" Tony looked towards the younger man's feet and saw a slight shifting of the debris around where he expected them to be. "That's good, Tim. You're going to be OK."

"How…you?"

"Ankle's busted. Otherwise, fine." He looked at the large piece of wood laying across Tim's back. "I'm going to try and move these beams again, OK?" McGee nodded slightly and Tony worked to get his good foot under the beam to lever it off his partner. After several tries, he managed to lift it off and away, giving McGee some relief.

"One down, one to go Tim. You doing alright?"

"I think…I've been…better."

Tony gently patted Tim's shoulder and went to work on the other beam. Unfortunately he wasn't able to move it.

"Sorry Tim, this one's not going anywhere."

"Can you get…out. Get help?"

Tony surveyed the rest of the room and sighed. "Stairs are gone, Tim. Pretty sure I can't reach the first floor without them."

"Sorry."

"Guess we're going to have to wait for the rescue workers to find us." He pulled out his cell phone but there was no signal. "Or Gibbs."

"Yeah…"

"And hope the house doesn't collapse in on us in the mean time," Tony muttered after a rather ominous creaking sound broke the silence.

"Great…"

Tony felt a twinge of worry when he realized that McGee's responses were getting slower. "Hey, you've got to stay awake, man." He pulled out a handkerchief and used it to wipe some of the grime from Tim's face and head as he tried to get a better look at his injuries. He found a scalp laceration that was still oozing blood, so he found a clean spot on the cloth and pressed it against the wound, eliciting a moan from Tim in response.

"Sorry, buddy, your head is still bleeding." He continued to clear away more of the debris with his other hand and paused when he uncovered Tim's upper arm. It was soaked with blood. Lacking another handkerchief, Tony removed his scarf and, as carefully as he could, wrapped it around McGee's wound.

"You're going to owe me a new scarf, Probie."

"O…K..."

"Hey, stay with me. No falling asleep with a head injury. You know that."

"Yeah…I do. Sorry."

Tony let out a small sigh of relief at Tim's increased awareness. He tried to think of something, some subject to keep him engaged as he looked at the damaged building above them.

"So much…for pre…serving the…scene."

Tony chuckled. "Yeah, well, I think we have an excuse that even Gibbs will accept this time. Can't stop mother nature."

"Boss…probably try."

"Yeah, probably."

"How…long?"

"Have we been here?" He glanced at the watch in McGee's wrist. "An hour, maybe?"

"Two hours…out."

Tony understood: it would be at least two more hours before the rest of the team could get there, even with Gibbs or Ziva driving. He remembered Tim's earlier concern about the roads and felt a tightening in his gut. What if they really can't get through? He shook his head. No, Gibbs will be here, come hell or high water. Literally.

"They'll make it, Tim. We just have to wait it out."

TBC…