15

Title: Esperanza

Genre: AU/Post-Apocalyptic

Rating: 18

Warnings: Post apocalyptic story. Slash. Violence.

Pairings: McGibbs, Tiva

Summary: It's two years beyond a pandemic that began the destruction of the world. How did Gibbs' team fare in that time?

A/N: This is a very different kind of story. It came to me in a dream and I found myself sort of obsessed with it. It is the kind of AU story that might sear your eyeballs if you are not careful. Heed the warnings. I'm going to post the first chapter and see what happens. Here goes. Sheila

He squatted on the side of the highway and took note of the footprints in the gravel. He had been three days without seeing anyone, and that suited him just fine. People had become dangerous, plain and simple. In the last two years, he'd killed as many people as he'd talked to; so he found it easiest to not see anyone at all.

In the Afterworld, it wasn't hard to find solitude. The Avian flu killed half the world's population in the period of a single month. Because of its virulence, scientists promised that it would die out quickly. It didn't happen that way. Every day, people waited behind closed doors, praying and hoping, but the virus seemed to be everywhere. The problem was that the virus had a two-week incubation period. In the time it took for people to get sick, they had already interacted with hundreds of people.

The rain had been plentiful all spring, and everywhere he looked, the landscape was lush and green. Nature had never been his thing, but he was developing a strong affinity. Abandoned homes and deserted stores had long ago lost their usage. Most food had either spoiled or was out of date, and homes had given way to neglect. Most were pest filled or dusty. Oftentimes, he still found dead bodies fossilized in bedrooms, and memories of that first month would fill his gut. Most times, he pulled blankets and pillows from cupboards, and slept on couches. As time went on, he became more comfortable sleeping outside in a sleeping bag he took from a sporting goods store.

The pandemic itself wasn't responsible for this much devastation, but it was the start. Every major government had fallen in those early months. The sickness created so much chaos that the infrastructure had collapsed. People destined to do evil were left to their own devices. The rest were too afraid to think straight. Guns became the most important commodity in the afterworld. Shooting folks came with no discernible consequence.

He'd always believed in law and order. Order had been so absent from his upbringing that he'd come to depend on it as a Navy cop. In the last two years, he'd attached himself to four different regimes attempting to bring reason to the chaos. He'd run from two of them when he discovered that the lust for power came with nefarious motives. One he walked away from because true leadership was missing. The last one he'd clung to the longest. He believed in the leadership, and thought he'd finally found a cause worth dying for, but this was the one that truly broke his heart.

He adjusted his backpack again. Outdoor living stores had become all the rage among survivors. Any time he found one, he could expect that it had been heavily looted. There were usually pockets of survivors nearby, and so he always went heavily armed. One group had taken over an especially large franchise store, and he had to barter for supplies. When a man owned only what he carried, it was hard to come up with things to part with, but he managed to entice them with a couple of sports watches. In return, he got a month's worth of dehydrated soup, beef jerky, and dried apples. A watch required no infrastructure to operate, and they were fast becoming valuable commodities.

The highway was steadily climbing higher, and the hiking challenged his sinewy limbs. His map told him that he was in the right part of West Virginia, but beyond that, he had no idea on how to find his destination. When the sun climbed high in the sky, he stopped under a tree. He pulled out a piece of jerky and gnawed at it for a while. If he wanted to do more than subsist, he needed to learn how to hunt. Shooting and killing weren't the problem. He had no real idea how to do skin, clean, or properly cook game. Up until this time, he'd stayed inside cities, and traded his services for food. A man at the last sporting goods location had offered to teach him for the price of his boots, but he'd been in too much of a hurry to take the man up on his offer.

He leaned against the tree with his hand on his gun and dozed until early evening. Mosquitoes buzzing woke him, and he gathered his stuff. Half a mile later, he saw a sign for a town called Tubbs in five miles. He pushed himself to make it by 10 p.m.

After the sun went down, he used his lithium flashlight to keep the road. There were too many trees to allow much in the way of moonlight. It was dangerous to approach a population center without knowing the variables, and as he approached the outskirts, he couldn't convince himself there wasn't danger lurking. He decided to follow the edge of town off the highway until he found an isolated house. He used all of his skills he'd formerly used to catch criminals as he checked the windows and the doors of the house. Finally satisfied, he tried the back door. Most ransacked houses had a broken lock on the back door. When it swung open, he breathed a sigh of relief. An occupied house wouldn't have an open door, not in this day and age.

He shone his light through the kitchen and headed for the pantry. The floor was already littered with canned goods telling him that the house was pretty picked over pretty good already. Still, he was able to scavenge three small cans of peaches and two tins of sardines. He found a bowl in the cupboard and emptied two of the cans of peaches in it. Then he started eating too fast, and soon he was choking, and trying to keep himself from vomiting. It showed a loss of control and he became angry with himself. He needed to be in control at all costs.

He was exhausted, but he didn't seek a bedroom. He'd run into too many dead bodies still decaying there. Plus, the bedroom was the most intimate part of a home. It reminded him that he was invading what had once been someone's sanctuary and all the memories it once held. He contented himself with a blanket from a hall closet. Then he picked a spot at top of the carpeted stairs and lay down. If anyone entered in the night, he had to be somewhere where he could have a tactical advantage.

For the first time, he allowed himself to relax in the dark. The only sounds around him were crickets that had clearly invaded the house through cracked windows. He thought about allowing himself a memory. It was a serious decision to make. Earlier attempts at this had left him so depressed that he'd barely been able to function the next morning. Yet the ache for her was so deep, he felt like he would explode if not allowed a moment to remember.

The first two weeks of the pandemic had been terrifying, but there was still a sense that everything could be contained. They were quarantined inside NCIS in those days, and the feelings he'd long had for her had overflowed. He was still incapable of the words, but he kept his eyes on her at all times. She noticed, they all noticed, but no one said anything when he insisted that all of his tasks involve her.

There was talk of the vaccine. It existed. Members of government had already been inoculated, and there were negotiations about how to distribute it to branches of the military. Vance lived in his office in those early days, and when he emerged he was always red-eyed and angry. Gibbs spent most of his time up there with him, but he was tight-lipped about their exchanges.

On day 12, Vance stood at the top of the stairs and addressed his people. NCIS had been allotted 500 doses for over 3,000 people. He prioritized it so that department heads received doses. All personnel deemed essential were going to be placed in a lottery. Those chosen would receive the remaining. All non-essential personnel would not be vaccinated, but would be allowed to stay within the confines of the building as long as order could be maintained. No family members of any personnel including the Director's would be given the vaccine. Names of chosen personnel were posted on the NCIS website. Vance turned and disappeared into his office. Some people tried storming the stairs, but Gibbs stood in their way, speaking quietly but firmly about the need for calm. Eventually, stunned personnel dispersed.

McGee printed out the list and they all searched it for their names. Her name had been absent as well as Abby's, Ducky's, and Jimmy's. There was anger and tears, and the team made noises about refusing the vaccine if all could not be included. It was Ducky, world weary and wise, who stood and calmly reminded them that they couldn't give into their fears. The strongest and the luckiest would be needed to help those not so lucky. Receiving the vaccine was thus not a selfish act but a necessary one to help those in need of care and protection.

He couldn't live with the idea that she wasn't allowed a dose. Luck had been absent her entire life: her mother and siblings were dead, and she had a father who could best be described as Machiavellian. As expected, she was accepted it for what it was, and urged the rest to follow Ducky's advice.

No one yet knew that paper currency would soon have no meaning. On McGee's advice, Tony had begun taking money out of his banking account in measureable amounts since the 2nd day of the pandemic. He took $1000 of it and made a very important purchase. An hour later, he was able to corner her in a hallway and tell her the terrific news. Gibbs had found extra vaccine. She was now on the list. Gibbs' powers were mythical, and so she didn't question the lie. He pushed her into the room where the nurses worked and they got it done.

In the early morning hours the next day, Gibbs gathered the team and let them know that cases of vaccine were on the black market and he intended to go out there and retrieve enough to make sure all of his team and others would be taken care of. They'd all volunteered but Gibbs looked at Ziva and reminded her that she was not yet inoculated. She looked at Gibbs in confusion and then they both looked at him. $1000 couldn't buy a dose of the vaccine, but it could buy a chance to take his name off the list and replace it with hers.

Confusion turned to horror, but there was little time to react. He had to stay back now while she went with the team out onto the chaotic streets of D.C. Lying on the landing of the abandoned home, he remembered the fear he held in his gut while they were gone, and then he remembered the elation when they snuck in the next day through the evidence garage with a case of 300 doses. Gibbs opened it then and there, making sure that Ducky, Jimmy, and Abby got their dose. Ziva took a dose personally for him, and they stole off to an empty interrogation room where she locked the door, covered the two-way mirror, and gave him the shot. Then the words came for both of them as he stroked her beautiful, tear-streaked face.

It wasn't the memory of the lovemaking that he sought when he remembered. It was the memory of touching her face in that way, fully engaged in his love for her. It was a pure moment, one untouched by the fear and the chaos surrounding them. He craved that memory and protected it. He only allowed it now because he felt something in the pit of his stomach that told him that he was close to her again.

…

He spent the morning scouring Tubbs for food and supplies, but the town had been picked over with a fine-toothed comb. The best he could do was a couple of cans of mandarin oranges and a box of stale granola bars. He had very little direction as to where to head next but his gut told him to head deeper into the mountains.

He was thinking about finding a leafy tree to rest under from the midday sun when he heard the sound of wheels on gravel. He turned just as a jeep bore down on him at high speed. He dove for the ditch, and rolled, pulling for his weapon as he did. By the time he got on his haunches, the jeep was stopped and a number of semi-automatic weapons were trained on him. He opened his hand and let his Sig drop to the ground.

They didn't ask for his name. Names had little meaning in a world where databases had largely been destroyed. Instead, they asked him if he was vaccine or anti-body. It was the question of most meaning in the afterworld. To say he was vaccine was to mark him as someone who had had some clout in the before world. Only government, law enforcement, health care personnel or persons with large amounts of money had been vaccinated. To say you were vaccine was a mixed bag especially in rural areas where people were largely on their own during the pandemic. To be anti-body meant that your body had someone been strong enough to resist the virus. It established you as a person of strength and resolve.

If he could, he would identify himself as anti-body, but the vaccination had left a telltale scar on his left shoulder. They could easily pull his sleeve up and see for themselves. Honesty was his best option and he identified himself as vaccine. The four people with guns looked at each other, but said nothing. One of them handcuffed his hands behind his back and pushed him into the back of the jeep. He stayed quiet. He found that his quirky banter had little use in a world that had largely lost its humor. He bounced up and down on the metal floor as the jeep sped to parts unknown feeling very little. He'd run out of fear some time ago.

…

They brought him to an old county jail and put him in a cell. He looked up at them from the cot, his hands still handcuffed behind his back. "Your hospitality is overwhelming. Is it possible to get something to drink?"

They disappeared and a woman returned with a bottle of water and put it to his lips. He gulped at it. Then he lay back. "What's next? You getting the boss?"

She stepped back. "He's a busy man. He'll come when he can."

"I don't mean harm. I'm here looking for a friend."

She stared at him silently and he said nothing more. She was a young woman, but her eyes held a history of grief and disappointment. Words meant so very little in days like these. Actions were the only currency in gaining trust.

His eyes grew heavy, and he realized that the water had been spiked. He wanted to make his case before too many decisions were made, but she had disappeared from the room.

…..

It was dark when he opened his eyes save for a battery lantern hung in the corner of the cell. There was a man sitting in a chair watching him. It took a few moments for his eyes to focus, but the man waited patiently. The light left him in shadows, but when he blinked his eyes again, his breath caught. "Boss?"

The man leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I haven't supervised you for two years, DiNozzo. Don't think boss applies anymore."

"It's really you."

The light caught Gibbs' steel blue eyes. "What's left of me anyway."

DiNozzo tried to sit up but his hands were still handcuffed securely behind his back. "Not taking any chances are you?"

"It's been a long time, Tony. We have a lot of catching up to do."

Tony nodded. "Probably a good idea. I'm not sure if I'd hug you or beat you to a bloody pulp. I have a feeling you wouldn't welcome either response."

"What brings you to these parts."

"Ziva. When she left, I knew she'd come looking for you. I need to see her."

Gibbs watched him silently.

"You know where she is, don't you?"

"You walk the whole way?"

"Most of the way. It took me a month."

"How did you hear where I was?"

Tony swallowed. "This isn't going to be easy, is it?"

"It's been a long time, DiNozzo. We need to do some catching up before I answer any questions for you."

"What do you want to know?"

"Tell me what you've been up to."

Tony smirked. "Really? Well, that'll take a while."

"I carved out a few hours."

"Should I start from the beginning? How about I start from where you took McGee and left us behind?"

"Vance gave us a mission. We had to protect the families of 200 servicemen still out at sea."

"Well, you left us behind in crazytown and I never heard from you again."

"What happened?"

Tony shook his head. "We worked for Vance. We were his little Delta Force. We ran missions trying to protect naval personnel from marauders. We liberated supplies from the quartermaster. We tried to create a self sustaining city within the Naval Yard. It worked well for the first few months, but when the last of the infrastructure crumbled, it became unclear as to whom we were really answering to. Vance did the best he could. He lost his children in the pandemic, and he brought his grieving wife into the building, but he never left his post. More than anyone, he seemed to know what he was fighting for. It was powerful stuff. I always knew that I would walk through the gates of hell for you, and it didn't take too many weeks before I added Leon Vance to that shortlist. He didn't seek power for the sake of it. He stayed focused on protecting Navy personnel."

"What happened to him?"

"I don't know. One day Jarvis was there and Vance wasn't. We asked questions, demanded answers, but SecNav wasn't saying anything. We tolerated it for two days, and then Rusty Balboa staged a little uprising. You know how Rusty was. He…couldn't tolerate change much, and no one knew or much liked Jarvis. Rusty stood at the bottom of the stairs and called Jarvis out. He said he wasn't taking another order until he got a solid answer on Vance. Jarvis accused him of treason. Two of his thugs dragged Rusty up the stairs, and the rest pulled guns on us. We were all in shock. Jarvis told us that Vance was a thief. He said that law and order had to be maintained. He asked Rusty if he had any last words, and before anyone could react, his man shot Rusty right between the eyes. All hell broke loose. Picture a gun battle in the bullpen. Ziva and I retreated, grabbed Ducky, Jimmy, Breena, and Abby, and we left the Navy yard. Haven't been back."

"Rusty deserved better."

Tony looked down and took a breath. "Yeah, we all deserved better. Ducky had the most space, and we all moved in there. For a few weeks, we were all on top of one another. We had no direction. Honestly, I think I was the most in shock."

Gibbs nodded. "Makes sense, Tony. You've always been the one most obsessed with American culture: the movies, the pop references. You were in love with our way of life."

"You know, I remembered wondering if I was wrong to give up Rota, Spain, but the truth was that I like to follow. I can be a leader, but my natural instincts are to serve rather than lead. It's why I was comfortable staying on your team so long."

"What happened next?"

"Ducky and Ziva got me back on track. I waited for you to come back, but there was no word. We got restless after a few weeks. Ducky and Jimmy started going out during the day to work in street hospitals. Abby started disappearing and returning at odd hours. Ziva and I went looking for a cause to champion. We hooked up with the Secretary of Agriculture who had taken over his building. He had a bunch of eggheads working on the blueprints to create small agrarian communities. His theory was that our future lay in returning to nature. We provided some of his muscle. He was a good man. He only wanted to help, but he wasn't ruthless enough to compete with the Jarvis's that were popping up all over D.C. They were dictators trying to restore order by becoming street gangs. We caught word of two groups that wanted his building. We were barely able to sneak him out of D.C. before they invaded. I'd like to think that he's still out there somewhere planting sustainable gardens."

"What happened to Abby?"

Tony closed his eyes. "We tried to contain her but you know her, she has the energy of six people. She kept disappearing. She was working with a group of nuns trying to provide refuge for the sick and people who were starving. Ziva and I would bring in food and supplies to sustain us for a week, and the next day, Abby would've absconded with most of it. She was doing God's work. That I understood, but some of us needed to do man's work so that we could have the resources to survive. We started fighting. I stupidly tried to control her. She accused me of being a fascist."

"Were you?"

"Ziva and I were doing protection work free lance at this point. There were times we didn't choose wisely as to our employers. We always walked away when we found out their motives, but we got our hands dirty more than once."

Tony leaned forward. "Gibbs, we weren't going to stay alive if we all did volunteer work. Somebody had to go out there and play the game so we could eat."

"You think I'm judging you?"

"Yeah Gibb, I do. I'm sitting here trussed up like a condemned man while you demand that I account for myself. You look like the judge, the jury, and the executioner to me."

"I'm no Jarvis, Tony."

"Let me ask you a question. How long did McGee last? You might not have been in touch with us, but you were with others. Fornell told us he was dead maybe six months after we last saw you. McGee died and we had to hear it from Fornell."

Gibbs' face didn't move. "He was indispensable to the end."

"Of course, he was. Could he be anything else? I missed him, and when I heard he was dead, it was…we all thought we were too numb to care, but I cried for him…we all did."

"Tell me about losing Abby."

Tony shook his head. "There's that tone again. I did the best I could. After we learned about McGee, everything changed. The fights were nastier. We were a bunch of islands in a small space. I wanted her to stay, but one day she was gone and so were Jimmy and Breena. Ziva and I looked for them but we couldn't find them. Sister Rosita was gone. We hoped that they'd gotten somewhere safe, but it was…a foolish dream. There was so much chaos out there. People were being taken hostage or forced to live under some group's idea of martial law. Just going from one block to the next was dangerous, and if you were caught, and they found supplies on you, you could be executed on the spot for looting. We were worried that they had been caught with food. We didn't let ourselves imagine the rest."

"Did you ever execute people on the spot?"

Tony glared at him. "No."

"You got close."

"We got creative when we worked for someone, and when it soured, we'd get out. I did things I wasn't proud of, but I never executed anyone."

"And you never found Abby?"

He shook his head slowly. "A week later, Ducky disappeared, and then we heard a rumor that you were in town. We wanted so badly for that to be true, but nothing happened. Then it was just Ziva and I. You see everything, Gibbs. How long was I in love with her before I knew it?"

Gibbs allowed himself a chuckle. "I don't remember a time when you weren't in love with her."

"I was so…obsessed with losing her. She was the only reason I kept breathing. We worked together. We hid out together while the violence around us raged. We made love and we told each other lies about our future. I was uneasy whenever she was out of the room."

"But it went wrong."

"I knew from the first time she threw up in the morning. We didn't talk about it until her stomach began to grow. She wasn't frightened. She was in love with it immediately. Her hand was always resting there, and she was always looking off into the distance as if there was a possibility of something better out there."

"You called the baby an it."

He rubbed at his face. "I was not in love with it. I was terrified. Every time, I closed my eyes, she was dying in labor. There was no hospital to take her to. It slowed her down, made her more vulnerable. I had nightmares of bullets catching her big body. I tried to reason with her. I told her that it was impossible to bring a child into the hell we were living. I begged her; I did everything I could to convince her that this would destroy her…and us."

"And you had no feelings for the baby."

"The baby terrified me more than Jarvis did. How could we possibly keep a baby alive in this world? What if I fell in love with it and it died? It would strip the remaining humanity from both of us. I knew it. I felt it."

"What did you do, Tony?"

"Clearly, she's been here and she's told you."

"I need to hear it from you."

"There was a street doctor who gave me a drug to give her. It was designed to induce a miscarriage. I put it in her food."

"And what happened?"

Tony squeezed his eyes shut. "It almost killed her. She was violently sick for days. I thought she was dying. It was such stupid thing to do. I was so grateful when she recovered."

"And the baby?"

"I don't know. I had to tell her what I did. Couldn't live with a lie of that magnitude. She left me the next morning. That was 9 months ago."

"You waited that long to come looking for her."

"I didn't deserve her 9 months ago. I needed to give her time and space, and I needed to understand why I had done what I had done."

"Do you understand now?"

He shook his head slowly. "Not really. Perhaps, I'm just a savage now. I don't know. I need to see her again. Please, Gibbs. Let me see her."

"Get some rest, Tony." Gibbs got up slowly.

Please! I need to talk to her!"

"Someone will come in and give you an energy drink. You need some calories." He disappeared into the darkness without another word.

…..

He sat for a long time in the dark before he reached over and put his hand on the man's side. He rested it there lightly, hoping not to disturb his sleep. The man was thin, he'd been thin for some years now, but now he was the kind of thin where ribs protruded. Gibbs wished he would eat more. It was possible now. They'd become organized and the rations had gotten much better in the last six months, but Gibbs couldn't get him to eat enough.

The body shifted and Gibbs tightened his grip. It was reflexive. If it were possible, he would've lay down next to him and wrapped his arms around him tightly. Gibbs would've whispered in his ear all the things he'd long wanted to say, but that wasn't possible for now. The body shifted again, and he started to pull away when a hand grabbed his tightly.

Gibbs smiled. "How long have you been awake?"

"A few minutes. Couldn't show it though. Didn't know when I'd have a chance to be this close to you again."

"I was being weak."

He sat up. "You don't know weak, Jethro. If you were weak, things would be much different between you and I right now."

"I have news."

The green eyes searched his face anxiously. "Did the generator go out? Was there an attack? Have people been hurt?"

"No! Nothing like that. Everything is fine. We have a visitor though."

"Who?"

"Tony."

He slapped Gibbs in the arm. "I knew it! I knew he would come for her. How is he?"

"Ragged. Angry. Confused."

"Wait 'til he sees her. Everything is going to change for him. I know it."

"Tim, he tried to kill Ziva."

"He was psychotic. How many of our families tried or succeeded in doing the same thing? The fear of bringing a child into this world is very deep. They moved past it and he can too."

"I'm not ready to take the risk. Ducky will see him in the morning."

McGee patted Gibbs' cheek. "Think of how much we've missed him."

"He's not that man anymore. Too much has happened; too much has changed. We don't really know who he is anymore."

McGee shook his head. "I can't be that cynical. Ducky is still Ducky. You are still you. I'm still the geek."

Gibbs shook his head. "Not to me and not to anyone else here. You're the guy who is making a future possible for our people."

"Can I see him tomorrow?"

"He still thinks you're dead. Let's take it one day at a time."

They both heard a gurgle, and they stopped talking to look over at the basinet on the other side of the bed. McGee rolled over and reached in, gently patting her back. "She's a good sleeper, Jethro."

Gibbs looked down at her. "Every time I see her, she looks more and more like her mother."

"I wish Ziva would get back here."

"Tim, we're not telling Tony anything about his child until she gets back. It's her decision."

"I know he'll love her. I know him. We both do."

"Be careful. You're going to wake her. She's old enough to sleep through the night."

"I kind of miss our late night feedings."

"You need the sleep." Gibbs walked to the door.

McGee lay back and watched him. "I wish this was your home."

"Maybe one day, things will be different. Right now, we have to deal with the circumstances we've been given."

McGee closed his eyes and turned away. "Good night, Jethro."

Gibbs hesitated at the door. He watched McGee settle in again. The connection he felt to the man who'd once been the junior agent on his team seemed to deepen with every encounter. He closed the door quietly and slipped out.

….

He could only allow himself a couple of hours before the start of another day. He came into the room as quietly as possible. It would've been easier to sleep on the couch, but she liked to know when he was around. He slipped out of his pants and tugged on some sweats before climbing under the blanket.

A sleepy face rose up and turned to him. "Jethro?"

"It's okay, Jackie. Go back to sleep."

She sat up, pushing her dark hair out of her face. "I heard you were interrogating someone."

He sighed. Sleep again was going to have to wait. "Tony DiNozzo, if you can believe it."

"Does he know anything about Leon?"

"Nothing more than we already know."

Her face fell.

"I should've waited to talk to you about this."

"I wasn't going to let you. I suppose you went to tell Tim."

"I did. Didn't spend a lot of time there though."

She stroked his arm gently. "That's too bad. The two of you deserve some real alone time."

He smiled. "That's not the kind of thing a wife says to her husband."

She sighed. "I have had only one real husband, Jethro."

"My job is to keep you safe until we can find him again. Thus, our charade is a necessity."

She looked at him for a long moment. "Lay down and get some sleep. I'll make sure someone else can take the early patrol."

"They're not ready."

"But we're not ready to lose you to an old world heart attack. Sleep. I got two eggs yesterday and some ramps and potatoes. You are going to wake up to an genuine omelet."

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Thank God for you, Jackie."

…