Chapter One

McGee looked pale over the transmission appearing on the plasma screen in MTAC. His head was bandaged and he sounded hoarse.

"I'm sorry, Boss," he apologized. "We never heard them, and everything happened so fast. When I woke up Corporal Pearson and Tony were gone. I can't even tell you what happened."

"Not your fault, McGee," replied Gibbs. "Are you sure you're okay?"

McGee nodded, then winced. "The doctors said the bullet hit at just the right angle to be deflected by the skull. I don't know why they didn't kill me, or why they took Tony."

"They probably thought you were dead, I'm sure there was a lot of blood," Director Sheppard spoke up. "And who knows why they took Special Agent DiNozzo. Maybe they wanted to see if they could get information from him, or sell him on the black market."

Seeing McGee's puzzled look, Gibbs explained, "There's a huge market for human ‘goods', McGee. Tony's young, strong, healthy and attractive, gender doesn't matter." He stopped there, letting the information sink in. McGee's expression changed from questioning, to aware, to horrified.

"I'm coming down," declared Gibbs. "Gather all the information you can about the area for me from Joe Tabaraz."

Sheppard turned to confront him. "You are not, going down there. Special Agent McGee is returning to NCIS as soon as he's declared fit to travel."

Furious, Gibbs towered over the Director. "I am not leaving an agent down there, not now, not ever..."

"There is every reason to believe that DiNozzo is dead, Special Agent Gibbs," interrupted Sheppard. "I will not let my top agent go down there on a wild goose chase just to satisfy some ridiculous ‘code' of never leaving a man behind. Not when it's so obviously hopeless."

His expression turning cold and hard, Gibbs moved closer to the Director, standing nearly toe-to-toe. "I'm going to Ecuador, and I am bringing my agent back home, one way or another. You can try to stop me if you want to, but I wouldn't advise it." His eyes bored into hers daring her to do something. Finally, Sheppard blinked and turned away, frowning grimly.

Gibbs turned on his heel and stalked out of the room, followed closely by an uncharacteristically quiet Ziva David.

Striding to his desk, Gibbs slammed his chair back angrily, then ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He felt helpless; two of his agents had been ambushed on what should have been a simple retrieval mission. Corporal Roger Pearson, a mule for drug runners, had run to Ecuador to hide when his illegal activities had been discovered. Tony and McGee were to bring him back to the States to be court-martialed after the local authorities found him holed up in a run-down hotel. Somehow things had gone terribly wrong and now McGee was stuck in a foreign country with a head injury, and Tony was missing.

"She could be right," Ziva said softly.

Gibbs looked up at her, eyes questioning.

"Tony could already be dead." Ziva's usual confident tone was gone, she was hesitant and appeasing, and her eyes glistened slightly. In the months since first joining NCIS, Officer Ziva David had become an integral member of the team, forming an almost telepathic partnership with DiNozzo, in particular. Gibbs was confident that his team was the best it could be. They'd all finally moved on.

"DiNozzo is not dead, and if he is, I'm going to kill him." His face dared Ziva to make a comment. "I want you to find out who took him."

"How?"

"You're a smart girl," he growled. "Just do it."

--------------------------

"What is this," demanded Gibbs, squinting at the video playing on the large plasma screen in Abby's lab.

"I pulled some twine," replied Ziva, not noticing the odd look that Abby gave her. "This is surveillance video of a local group of resistance fighters."

Gibbs, Ziva and Abby watched silently, as a motley group of men went about their business in a small camp surrounded by rainforest. There appeared to be nothing especially interesting going on and just as Gibbs was starting to get impatient a group of men walked out of the trees toward the camp. The two groups seemed to know each other, and Gibbs' eye was caught by the sight of someone being led by one of the armed men.

"Tony," whispered Gibbs.

Tony DiNozzo looked a bit worse for wear, his clothes were dirty and torn, his hair disheveled. He had a few days growth on his face, his hands were tied behind his back and a rope was looped around his neck, the guard using it like a leash to lead the helpless agent around. Tony stumbled and almost fell, but was jerked upright and pulled forward. Once they had reached the other men, he was hit on the back of his legs causing him to fall to his knees. His head was forced to the ground, and he was left there, in a huddled position, while the guerillas talked and laughed.

"He's alive!" squealed Abby, her enthusiasm quickly squelched by a look from Gibbs. "This is a good thing, Gibbs. Tony's still alive."

Ignoring Abby, Gibbs turned to Ziva. "When was this footage taken?"

"Yesterday," she replied. "Yes, there's no guarantee that he's still alive, but as of yesterday morning, Tony was among the living."

Gibbs turned back to the screen, scowling at the sight of his agent huddled on the ground, possibly in need of medical attention.

"What now?" Ziva looked at Gibbs expectantly.

"We go get him and bring him home."

"Yessss!" Abby bounced up and down excitedly.

This was like something out of a movie, Tony DiNizzo thought to himself. A very bad movie and he was the unnamed extra who ended up getting killed before the second act.

It had been two days since he and McGee were surprised by five gun-wielding, masked men. McGee had gone down almost immediately. Tony closed his eyes, not wanting to believe that the younger agent was dead. No, Probie would survive, he had to. Tony had pushed their prisoner to the ground and tried to get to McGee when he was shot in the shoulder. As he lay on the ground, stunned, he was struck by a rifle butt. The next thing he knew, he was in the back of a sleek car, tied up like a Christmas turkey, his shoulder crudely bandaged. There was no sign of McGee or Pearson.

The men that had taken him looked like they were auditioning for Men In Black 3; they wore black suits and stylish sunglasses. When Tony tried to say something, he was abruptly gagged and shoved further into the back seat. They drove for what seemed like hours, until they came to a crossroads out in the countryside. Waiting for them was a scruffy crew of men, dressed in a mixture of stolen army uniforms and local clothing, heavily armed with what looked like contraband weapons. After some spirited haggling, Tony found himself being dragged out of the car and handed over to the leader of the other group. The sedan headed back toward the city, leaving the hapless agent in the hands of the rebels.

"He's pretty!"said one soldier, putting his hand under Tony's chin and examining his face. "Maybe we could keep him as a mascot?"

Another man scoffed, "You need a woman, Manuel, you're ready to hump anything right now!"

The other men started examining Tony, causing him to struggle, despite the disadvantage of being tied up. The leader of the group fired a gun into the air, freezing all action.

"Enough!" he yelled, "We take him back to camp, rest up for a few days, then go to the coast. We can sell him to the slave traders."

Manuel looked hopeful, "Can we test the merchandise? Make sure he's got all the proper parts and holes?" The other men snickered.

The leader looked disgusted, "No. We can get a better price if he's a virgin."

Another man spoke up, "How do we know he is?"

"They can test him when we get to the coast. At least we can assure them that we didn't touch him."

Tony sighed inwardly in relief. He was afraid he was going to be used as an outlet for sexual frustration, and that definitely was not something he wanted to experience.

The ropes and gag were removed and his arms were pulled behind him, his hands bound tightly. A rope was looped around his neck. The leader put his face five inches from Tony's and said, in thick-accented English, "You will not fight us or you will get hurt very bad." To prove his point he backhanded the bound agent, causing Tony's head to snap back and splitting his lip.

Okay. This was not good. Tony shook his head slightly until it cleared. One of the men picked up the rope that was looped around Tony's neck and started walking, leaving Tony no choice but to follow meekly.

After a few miles, Tony's head was pounding, his shoulder was on fire, and he was burning up. His mouth was dry and he found himself stumbling along, unable to walk straight.

"Can I have some water?" he called out to his captors. He didn't want them to know he could speak and understand Spanish; he needed some advantage.

The group stopped and talked amongst themselves. One man brought a canteen over to Tony and let him drink a mouthful of water.

"May I have some more?"

His request was answered by a fist to the stomach, causing him to vomit the water he had just consumed and eliciting laughter from the other men. Tony had fallen to his knees when he was punched and now the rope around his neck was pulled as the group started walking again. Unable to pull himself up onto his feet, Tony found himself being dragged for several feet, the rope tightening around his neck until he couldn't breathe.

"What are you doing?"exclaimed the leader angrily. "We need him alive, you idiot! The traders will not pay for a corpse."

He bent down and loosened the rope; Tony lay on his back, gasping for air, his head spinning. Rough hands yanked him up to his feet and he was pulled down the rutted track, stumbling occasionally. Finally, unable to stand up straight, Tony fell to the ground, his eyes closed in pain, perspiration soaking his clothing. The wound on his shoulder was bleeding again, staining his shirt a dark brownish red.

"We'll rest for an hour,"declared the leader. "Bastien, clean his wound and give him some water. He's no good to us if he dies out here."

Swimming in a haze of pain, Tony felt himself being turned over, his shirt pulled away from the bloody bandage on his shoulder. He moaned in pain and tried to move away as rough hands prodded the bullet wound. A cry was torn from him as some whiskey was poured on the open wound and he slipped into oblivion, not feeling the rough ministrations of his 'nurse' as his shoulder was re-bandaged.

After an hour of restless sleep, Tony was slapped awake and pulled to his feet. He stood there, swaying slightly, as his captors prepared to continue their trek.

Tony walked on in a daze, his feet sometimes catching on a stone, sending him stumbling. He fell several times, adding scrapes and bruises to his growing catalog of injuries.

The group eventually came into a clearing, where a camp had been set up. The men in the camp greeted the travelers like long-lost friends. Tony was pulled to the center of the camp, his legs were struck from behind and he landed hard on his knees. The leader came up and pushed Tony's head down, forcing his forehead to the ground.

"You stay down until we move you," he growled. "You don't try to get up or I let Manuel use you like a woman."

Even though Tony knew the man wouldn't let his "merchandise" be damaged, he stayed still. It seemed the guerrilla was determined to keep Tony's honor intact, but had no problem with inflicting pain in other ways.

Tony managed to find a comfortable position, grateful that he was a bit more flexible than he thought. He closed his eyes and tried to let his mind drift, but he couldn't calm his fears. He hoped Gibbs was looking for him, along with Ziva. Between the two of them Tony knew they had the experience and know-how to find him, but would they be in time? Would they even be able to try?

He sent up a brief prayer for his rescue and McGee's well-being. Silent tears leaked from his closed eyes, as he tried to banish his fears.

Less than 36 hours after they had confirmation that Tony was still alive, Special Agent Gibbs and Officer David were meeting with Joe Tabaraz and Special Agent McGee. A map was spread out on a table and the four were bent over it, discussing their plans to rescue one of their own.

"We can get you close to the location you say their camp is at, but not too close, or we'll spook them. You'll have to hike the rest of the way." Tabaraz's tone was apologetic.

"Not a problem," replied Ziva.

"We'll be fine. We need to time our arrival at the camp for nighttime," Gibbs said. "It'll be easier to surprise them, grab Tony and get him out of there."

Ziva looked concerned. "We may have to carry him; at the very least we'll have to support him."

"We'll manage," Gibbs replied grimly.

"What do you want me to do, Boss?" McGee asked, looking expectant.

"I'll need you at the drop-off point with a radio, monitoring any channels the guerrillas may be using and keeping in contact with us. What?" he demanded, noting McGee's disappointed expression.

"Is there a way I can monitor communications and help in the actual rescue?" McGee looked down, embarrassed. "I feel like we've become good friends and I want to help him. I heard him calling me and trying to get to me when we were ambushed." McGee's voice trailed off.

"You will be helping him, McGee," explained Gibbs, kindly. "You know that monitoring radio frequencies and keeping us apprised of what's going on will be as vital as physically pulling Tony out of there."

McGee looked contrite and nodded, "Sorry, Boss," he said. "I just need to see Tony... alive."

"We all do, McGee."

"Ziva, you know what you need to do?" Gibbs looked over at the diminutive agent as she examined their weapons.

She tested the weight of one of the automatic rifles, hefting it in her hands, looked up at Gibbs and nodded. "I'm prepared to do whatever it takes to get Tony out of there alive." Her mouth curved into a cruel smile, her eyes bright with anticipation.

Checking his own weapon, Gibbs nodded curtly. Snapping a clip into his Sig and grabbing an automatic rifle, he looked at his team.

"Let's go."

-------------

The air had gotten cooler as the sun began to set. Tony managed to lie down on his side without drawing the ire of his captors, and curled up to try to keep himself warm. The rowdy soldiers drank whiskey, played cards and insulted each other loudly, their harsh laughter echoing in the trees. Occasionally, Manuel would go over to Tony and stroke his face, murmuring loving things to him, his whiskey-soaked breath hot in Tony's ear. When he was called away, Manuel would swear and kick the helpless agent before rejoining his comrades.

Tony suspected that his shoulder wound was infected, he was alternately sweating profusely and shivering uncontrollably. He had difficulty hearing, his ears filled with a rushing sound, as if he was in a wind tunnel. He started to give up, certain that he was either going to die from his wound or end up in some Asian whorehouse, servicing drunken businessmen. Tony tried not to cry, he didn't want to give his captors the satisfaction of seeing his tears. He felt completely alone and vulnerable, in pain and feverish. He closed his eyes in an effort to fall asleep and escape the nightmare, at least in his mind. Maybe when he woke up he would find that it was a nightmare, and he was back in his own bed in DC.

The mood inside the helicopter was tense as Gibbs, Ziva, McGee and Tabaraz headed into the interior of the country to rescue DiNozzo. The nature of the mission would be in question until they reached their target. What they hoped would be a rescue could well turn out to be retrieval of the young agent's body.

Joe Tabaraz waved toward a clearing below, indicating that the pilot was going to land there. When they were on the ground, McGee began setting up the communications equipment as Gibbs and Ziva checked their weapons and supplies. They were bringing water, food and some medical supplies with them- anticipating that Tony would need some care before he could hike back to the base, if he could hike back. They also had a portable stretcher, in case they had to carry him back. Tabaraz would be coming with them as back-up, while McGee kept in close contact with the rescue team. Few words were spoken as each member of the team went about their assigned tasks.

"Ready?" Gibbs looked expectantly at the others.

"Ready," replied Ziva, slinging her back-up rifle over her shoulder. Joe indicated he was ready, as did McGee.

Once they were out of sight of the helicopter, Gibbs tested the communications devices. "McGee, can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, Boss. You?"

"That's affirmative. Ziva, Tabaraz, can you hear everything?" Receiving answering nods from the other two, Gibbs pressed on toward the last known location of the guerilla camp. Making good time, the three approached the area cautiously. Stopping when he thought they were a few hundred yards from the camp, Gibbs signaled the others to take cover.

"McGee," he whispered into the com link, "has there been any chatter over the radio?"

"No, Boss," replied McGee. "It's been very quiet."

"Ziva, you and Tabaraz stay here. I'm going to go see if I can spot Tony and check out the position of the men."

Gibbs edged forward stealthily, taking care not to step on any branches. He was starting to get a bad feeling, it was too quiet. Dusk was approaching and they should be able to hear the guerillas talking among themselves. As he reached the tree line his heart sank. The camp was deserted.

"Damn."

Ziva's voice crackled through his earpiece, "What is it?"

"They're gone!" Gibbs stalked into the abandoned campsite, scanning the area for any signs of life. He heard Ziva and Tabaraz come up from behind.

"What happened?" asked Ziva. "It's very unusual for people to break camp at night."

Gibbs kicked at the smoldering embers of the campfire. "Maybe they got word we were coming. Or maybe something came up and they had to get to their meeting place sooner."

"It's too dark to track them," Tabaraz observed.

"The hell it is," growled Gibbs. "I'm not letting them get too far ahead of us." He scanned the ground, sweeping the beam of his flashlight around. "They headed that way. Let's go."

Luckily the moon was full and bright that night, illuminating the jungle in silvery light as it rose in the night sky. Determined to rescue their teammate and friend, the three pressed forward.

--------------

Tony was awakened by a shout. He looked around, confused, and saw two of the guerillas fighting. One of them pulled a large hunting knife and thrust it into the stomach of the other.

The leader of the group burst from his tent angrily. "What's going on?" he bellowed. "Ramon, Jorge, stop fighting!" He strode over to the injured man, lying on the ground clutching his abdomen, and bent down to check him out. Disgusted, he stood, took out his pistol and shot him in the head.

Tony felt his stomach jump at the sight of the cold-blooded killing. He knew there was no chance of his escaping, not when he was outnumbered and weak from dehydration, hunger and fever. His only hope was to antagonize the leader enough to have him lose his temper and kill Tony. Or wait for rescue, which seemed more impossible every minute.

"We go to the rendezvous now," announced the leader. "I'm not wasting any more time, you fools will end up slitting each others' throats. Grab what's important and let's go. Tomas, you get the prisoner and bring him to me, I'll make sure he doesn't give us any trouble."

"The sun is setting!" complained one of the men.

"Are you afraid of the dark?" sneered a second man. Another fight almost broke out, only to be stopped when the leader shot the complainer in the chest. "Does anyone else have something to say?" He glared at the others, smiling cruelly at the silence that surrounded him.

A big, burly man approached the prisoner and dragged him to his feet. Pain flared in Tony's shoulder and he got lightheaded. Unable to resist, he was dragged roughly to the man that had just callously killed two others.

The leader grabbed the front of Tony's shirt and pulled him forward. "We're going now, to trade for guns and ammunition. You will bring a nice price for extras, maybe some grenades or machine guns." He put his face within inches of Tony's and growled, "Give us any trouble and I will gut you like a deer. That will not make me happy, but I will do it."

"I don't know if I can walk very far," argued Tony, weakly.

The man just laughed and pushed him back toward Tomas. Pushing Tony to the ground, Tomas untied his hands and re-tied them in front of him. Then he tied Tony's knees and ankles together. Calling someone over, Tomas grabbed a long, heavy branch and threaded it through the ropes; then he and the other man lifted the branch, and Tony, and placed it over their shoulders. Tony hung helplessly from the branch, the wound in his shoulder sending tendrils of pain up his arm and through his body.

The group of men headed off as the sun began to set.

-------------

"Boss, can you hear me?"

"What have you got, McGee?" Gibbs never slowed down, leading the other two agents through the shadowy jungle.

"I think I know where they're heading. There were a couple of transmissions, it sounded like coordinates for a meeting."

"Did you know they were breaking camp and moving?" demanded Gibbs, angrily.

"No, Boss! These transmissions just came over a few minutes ago. It sounds like they're communicating on the go. The people they're meeting with aren't happy that they're coming sooner, but they gave the guerillas their position anyway." McGee sounded insulted.

Gibbs didn't bother to apologize for snapping at the young agent. "Which direction do we head?"

"The rendezvous point is about 7 miles west of your position. From the short conversation they had, the guerillas aren't far from there." He paused, then said hesitantly, "Um, Boss?"

"Spit it out, McGee."

"They said something about having someone to trade for extra munitions. That he was young and strong and would make good money for the buyers overseas."

"No," replied Gibbs firmly, "he won't. Is there any place near the rendezvous point that you can land the helicopter and wait for us?"

There was silence as McGee checked the map. "Yes, Boss, there's a hill nearby, with a flat top, according to the topographic map. We can swing further west and approach it from the other side, so we don't attract attention. You'll have a little over a mile to get from the camp to the helicopter."

"Good. Meet you there, McGee. Keep monitoring the communications."

"On it, Boss."

Taking out his compass, Gibbs checked their position and then led Ziva and Tabaraz west.

Tony drifted in and out of consciousness as he hung from the branch, swaying to the movement of the two men carrying him. The pain had become so pervasive that he couldn't think of a body part that wasn't hurting. His mouth was dry and he could feel his fever getting worse.

"Please," he called hoarsely, "may I have some water?"

The men walked on, ignoring his weak pleas. Tony passed out again; the next thing he knew they had entered another camp. The two groups of men faced each other warily, as the Leader moved to greet his counterpart.

Jeffrey Garner was a mercenary, an ex-SEAL dishonorably discharged after being implicated in arms smuggling. There was no way to prove his involvement, but Garner had a record of insubordination and other offenses, making it easy to kick him out of the service. He made his living selling his military expertise to the highest bidder.

Garner had a small group of hardened men working with him. All had some sort of military experience, and no ethics.

"What's the big hurry?" he asked the Leader. "You're a day early."

"My men are getting restless. We need to get our guns and go back to the fight," was the terse reply.

"You mean go back to terrorizing villages," snorted Garner. He signaled his second-in-command. "Show them the merchandise. Make sure you see their money first," he ordered.

The Leader motioned a man to follow the other.

"So," said Garner, "what's this about a man you want to trade?" He walked over to the two men carrying Tony, his expression curious. Seeing the prisoner's weakened condition, he laughed. "You said he was strong. He looks half dead to me."

"He's just injured, he'll recover," scoffed the Leader. "He's young and healthy. My cousin gave him to us. This one's a government agent."

"Oh yeah?" Garner seemed impressed. "Which government?"

"Estados Unidos. He's one of you, is that a problem?"

"Nope." Garner moved to get a closer look at Tony, turning the agent's face toward him. Tony stirred at the touch and opened his eyes.

"Hey," said Garner, "who do you work for?"

Tony tried to talk, but started coughing instead. "Please," he croaked, "may I have some water?"

Grabbing a canteen from one of the guerillas, Garner dribbled some water into Tony's mouth, making sure he didn't choke the injured agent.

"Thank you," murmured Tony, his head dropping down.

"I asked you a question." Garner's voice was hard.

Clearing his throat, he whispered hoarsely, "NCIS."

"Navy, huh? You guys are civilian, though, right?" Tony nodded.

"You guys gave me nothing but grief. Lost a really sweet deal when I got kicked out of the Navy." The mercenary laughed cruelly. "You got no friends here, buddy." He turned to the Leader. "Your guys do any sampling?"

"No," assured the Leader.

"Denny, come over here," Garner called out. "We got us a piece of meat we can sell to Lucho. Check him out, make sure he hasn't been used."

Denny led the men carrying Tony to a tent. Tony was untied and dropped to the ground. Everything appearing hazy, Tony looked over at the young mercenary. Snapping on latex gloves, Denny approached the injured agent.

"Now, let's have a look at you."

Too weak to fight, Tony closed his eyes, resigned to whatever was going to happen to him.

----------------

Moving steadily through the jungle, Gibbs and the other agents found themselves nearing a clearing. Motioning for quiet, Gibbs edged closer, using night vision goggles to observe the group of men camped out. Most of the men were gathered around campfires, drinking and laughing. There were two tents, but no sign of Tony.

Slipping back to where Ziva and Tabaraz waited, Gibbs laid out his plans.

"I couldn't see Tony anywhere, but he could be in one of two tents. Ziva, you take the one closest to us. I'll slip over to the other one; Tabaraz, you keep us covered. If you find Tony, Ziva, let me know. Speak very softly and use as few words as possible. Wait for me to acknowledge your message. I'll do the same to you if I find him."

Ziva nodded.

Switching his comlink on, Gibbs contacted McGee. "McGee, are you in position yet?"

McGee's voice crackled over the earpiece, "Affirmative, Boss. We're waiting on top of the hill just north of your position. Do you want me to come down and cover you from that direction?"

"Negative, McGee. When I give you the signal, have the pilot be ready to take off. We'll get Tony out of there, and if we need you to help us the rest of the way, we'll let you know. Be prepared to lay a covering fire behind us, in case we're discovered and they give chase."

"Roger, Boss, I'll be ready."

"Gibbs." He looked over at Ziva. "What if these aren't the buyers? What if Tony's already gone?"

Gibbs' eyes were cold and hard. "Then we get them to tell us where they took Tony and continue following." Ziva's mouth curled into a half smile and she nodded, pleased with the answer. She was just as determined as the senior agent to bring her partner and friend home.

Tony lay on his side, curled up in a fetal position. The examination by the young mercenary had been swift and efficient. Denny was a former medic in the Army and despite his choice of professions, he still had a bit of a conscience. While he wasn't happy about selling the young agent into slavery, he would go along with his leader's wishes. He wasn't going to let the man die of an infection, though. Tony's shoulder wound was cleaned carefully and rebandaged. Denny gave him a shot of antibiotics that he kept on hand, and some more water. His examination of other parts of Tony's body was done with surprising gentleness. Even though he felt humiliated, there was no pain, just mild discomfort. He was grateful for the care he was being given, feeling it was probably the last time he would be treated with some measure of kindness.

Now, after having his arms and legs re-tied, Tony lay in the dark contemplating his fate. His mind wandered, as thoughts of his job and teammates swam through the haze of his fever. Gibbs would be pissed, for sure. Would he go looking for his subordinate, or would he be forced to let the matter drop and concede that it was hopeless? Tony couldn't imagine the senior agent letting anything drop.

His mind drifted to an image of Ziva. She had become a good friend and a good partner. Her brash confidence and dangerous sense of humor had made her a perfect foil for him. They engaged in a constant banter while in the office, much to the irritation of Gibbs. When they were in the field they could communicate with hand signals, if necessary, knowing instinctively what the other was thinking. She'd saved his ass a few times, and he hers. She couldn't save him from this, he thought bitterly, no one could.

McGee. McGee had to be alive, Tony refused to believe he died in the ambush. McGee was too young, had too much promise to be cut down like that. Tony imagined he had seen that McGee was still breathing and kept that thought in his mind, giving him comfort. Probie would go on, perhaps getting his own probie and following Tony's lead in hazing. Tony chuckled.

God, he was going to miss them. What would Abby do when she found out he was gone for good? And Ducky? It would probably be better for them if he were dead; they, and the rest of the team, would be tormented if they didn't know what happened to him. Worse yet, what if they knew what had happened, but couldn't help him? Would he want them to come rescue him if he'd been a slave for awhile, or would he rather be dead?

Tony drew in a shaky breath, tears falling as he closed his eyes. Not knowing where he would wake up, he fell into an uneasy sleep.

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Maneuvering quietly through the shadows, Gibbs approached the tent at the far end of the camp. He kept a wary eye on the men by the fires, taking care to avoid any open spaces. His earpiece crackled and he heard Ziva's voice, soft and steady.

"He's not here."

He replied tersely, "Roger. I'm checking the other tent now."

Carefully, Gibbs cut a small hole in the bottom of the tent wall and looked in. Scanning the interior of the tent, he saw a figure curled up on the floor, and nothing else. Cutting a larger opening for him to crawl through, Gibbs approached the sleeping figure. He felt a quick jolt of adrenaline when he saw that it was his missing agent, still breathing.

"I have him. Ziva, Tabaraz, get over here."

Kneeling, Gibbs quickly put a hand over Tony's mouth. The young agent jerked awake and started to struggle, but Gibbs held him in place.

"Tony!" whispered Gibbs urgently. "It's okay, lie still." He turned Tony's head toward him, waiting until the younger agent's eyes were able to focus and he recognized his boss.

"We have to be quiet." Gibbs removed his hand from Tony's mouth.

Eyes filled with tears, Tony's voice was a little shaky, "Boss? Is this a dream?"

Smiling, Gibbs gently stroked Tony's hair. "Not a dream, DiNozzo. We're taking you home."

Tony closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. Ziva slipped into the tent through the opening cut by Gibbs and went to her partner's side, looking down at him worriedly.

"Keep an eye out, outside, make sure no one's coming," ordered Gibbs as he cut the ropes binding DiNozzo. "Can you walk?"

"I don't know," murmured Tony. "I'm feeling pretty weak, and I think I have a fever."

Gibbs put his hand on Tony's forehead and frowned. "You're burning up." He looked at the bandage on Tony's shoulder. "It looks like you've been treated, though."

Nodding, Tony replied, "Yeah, one of the guys was a medic. He cleaned it up and gave me some sort of shot." He didn't tell Gibbs what else the medic had done. No one needed to know.

"Let's see if you can stand." Gibbs helped Tony to his feet, the younger agent swaying at first and then managing to stay upright, leaning against his boss. They took a few tentative steps toward the back of the tent.

"Ziva, get his other side, let's go."

Turning on his comlink again he whispered, "McGee. We have him, we're on our way."

Tony looked at Gibbs, his face alight. "McGee's alive?" Gibbs smiled at the relief in Tony's voice.

"Roger, Boss. Is he alive?" McGee's voice was tentative

"Roger that, McGee. And happy to hear you're okay too."

"Sweet. We're ready for you, we'll be watching."

"Where's Tabaraz?" Gibbs looked across at Ziva.

The flap opened and Tabaraz whispered, "Right here, Gibbs, standing guard."

Gibbs nodded curtly. "Follow us, watch to see if we're being followed."

Gibbs and Ziva, supporting Tony between them, slipped from the tent quietly and headed toward the helicopter's location, with Tabaraz trailing right behind them. Tony was very weak and in pain, but he tried to walk on his own power. They were able to make good time and were almost at the rendezvous point, hearing the whirring of the helicopter blades nearby.

"Boss," Tony's voice was alarmingly weak. "I have to stop." His face was flushed and he was sweating profusely.

"We're almost there, DiNozzo." Gibbs continued on, pulling Tony along between Ziva and himself. "Just a little bit further. You can do it."

"I don't know..." Tony's voice trailed off and his body went limp. Gibbs and Ziva stumbled under the dead weight, but regained their balance.

"Tabaraz! Come here and take Tony's other side, we'll have to carry him the rest of the way. Ziva, cover us from behind." Ziva nodded and fell back as Gibbs and Tabaraz lifted the unconscious agent and set of briskly.

Seeing their approach, McGee ran to meet them and help carry Tony to the waiting helicopter. The team tumbled into the vehicle and the pilot took off. The mercenaries were still unaware that they had lost their valuable merchandise.

Ziva knelt next to Tony, checking his pulse and breathing. "He's feverish. I think he's going into shock, too." She looked up at Gibbs, concern in her eyes.

"We'll get him to a hospital," Gibbs assured her. "He'll be fine." He watched as Ziva took off her scarf and wet it with water, gently wiping Tony's face with the cool cloth. Tony stirred briefly, then lay still again.

Gibbs sighed, relieved that the younger agent was alive, but worried that he could still die from his wounds. The past few days had been a whirlwind, he'd been so intent on rescuing Tony that he didn't have time to think about what could have happened. He refused to think of failure, but now that they had Tony back safely, those fears swirled around in his head.

Looking at Tony's flushed face, he realized what could have happened to the young man, the fate that awaited him. Gibbs would never had let that happen. Tony was like a son to him, he would never leave him in the hands of people who would enslave him. Gibbs would die to get him out of that hellhole.

But Tony was safe now. The young agent was stubborn, he wouldn't let a bullet wound to the shoulder kill him. Besides, he knew that Gibbs would be pissed if he died after the effort put in to rescue him.

Tony spent a month recovering from his injuries. He went through mandatory counseling to help him cope with the ordeal he had gone through, despite his arguments that he was fine. Secretly, he was glad for the sessions. His usual routine of watching old movies and eating junk food, pretending nothing was wrong, wasn't working. He had been terrified and after he returned home, he had vivid nightmares. The counseling sessions had helped him come to grips with what happened and set aside the fears.

Now healthy, physically and emotionally, Tony was aching to get back to work, driving everyone to distraction with his phone calls until Gibbs finally relented and let him return to the office.

The squad room was quiet, everyone was working on one thing or another, when Tony got in. Gibbs was talking on the phone, McGee was typing furiously and Ziva was hitting her keyboard, muttering to herself.

"I'm back!" sing-songed Tony.

"Welcome back, Tony." McGee never lifted his eyes from his monitor.

Ziva grunted at him and Gibbs totally ignored him.

Crestfallen, Tony sat down at his desk. He looked around, and then turned on his computer.

"DiNozzo!" yelled Gibbs.

"Yes, Boss?" Tony jumped up.

"Go down and find out what Abby got from the samples we sent her."

"Yes, Boss."

Grumbling to himself, Tony went down to the lab, perking up as he heard Abby's loud music blaring.

"Abby!" he yelled.

Abby turned and squealed when she saw him. She ran over and hugged him, holding on for dear life. Tony put his arms around her and hugged her back, gratified that someone was happy to see him.

"Tony!" she bubbled. "I'm so glad you're back!"

"Thanks, Abbs, you're the only one, it seems." Tony looked like a kicked puppy.

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true," Abby consoled. "We were all worried about you and missed you. Jimmy kept asking if we had heard any news, like, every 10 minutes. He was driving Ducky bonkers, and you know how hard that is to do."

Turning serious she asked, "What do you need?"

Surprised by the change, Tony replied, "Gibbs wants to know if you have any results from the crime scene."

"I don't have anything," whined Abby. "Ducky hasn't given me the samples from the body yet. I think Jimmy dropped them, or something. Will you go check for me?"

Sighing, Tony turned and headed for Autopsy. He couldn't believe that they weren't happier to see him. He had almost died, for crying out loud. He was almost sold to slave traders. He had been shot, dragged through a jungle, starved, beaten...

As he entered Autopsy he jumped as "Welcome back" echoed through the room.

Autopsy was decorated with balloons and crepe paper. There was a big sign saying "Welcome Home, Tony" hanging up over the drawers. The autopsy tables were draped with colorful paper tablecloths and filled with all sorts of food, drinks and pastries. Gibbs, Ducky, McGee, Ziva, Jimmy and a bunch of other agents were all standing there, grinning broadly at his shocked face. Well, Gibbs looked a tad amused, the hint of a smile on his face.

Abby ran up behind him and grabbed him. "Did we surprise you? Did we?"

His heart still pounding, he looked around at the others. "Yeah!" he stammered. "You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"I think there's an empty drawer for you, right Ducky?" Gibbs winked at the ME.

"Oh, I wouldn't let dear Anthony take possession of one of my drawers. I'm sure Mr. Palmer and I could bring him back 'round." Ducky smiled, patting Tony on the back.

Handing Tony a drink, Jimmy said, "Oh yes, Dr. Mallard. I'm sure we could take good care of Agent DiNozzo." He grinned happily at Tony.

Laughing, Tony shook his head. "You sure had me going."

Ziva sidled up next to him. "You were practically pouting on your way down to the lab. I could just imagine you kicking the floor, muttering to yourself." She gave him a friendly squeeze on the butt, causing him to yelp.

Everyone was laughing and chatting, welcoming Tony home. Tony was talking to Abby when he felt a light smack to the back of his head.

"What was that for, Boss?" he asked.

"Just a warning not to do anything like that again." Gibbs looked stern, but his eyes twinkled.

"Right, Boss."

~FIN~

This is an additional scene and a missing scene. I felt that we needed to see some of the aftermath of the mission.I had also started to write a scene with Tony and his therapist, but never really got that written. Thanks again to Rinne for helping me with the punctuation and for changing some of the awkward wording. Rinne's the best!

Epilogue

Tony was looking over the variety of cakes and cookies on the table, trying to decide what he wanted, when he heard someone clearing their throat. He turned to find himself face-to-face with Director Sheppard. The Director was acting nervously, as if she wished she were somewhere else.

"Welcome home, Special Agent DiNozzo," she said. "I'm very glad to see that you're okay."

Surprised, Tony smiled at the petite woman, and said, "Thank you, Ma'am. It's good to be back at work."

Nodding, she replied, "I'm sure it is."

"I wanted to thank you, for sending Special Agent Gibbs and Officer David to find me," he continued. "I don't like to think of what would have happened if they hadn't come and rescued me."

Sheppard's eyes widened. "He didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

Coughing nervously, the Director seemed to be searching for the right words. Tony cocked his head, watching her curiously. Finally, she took a deep breath and said, "Gibbs and David went down against my orders. I'm afraid I had to weigh the risk of losing two agents, well, three, counting McGee, for the sake of one and didn't think it was an acceptable risk to take."

Seeing Tony's shocked expression, she continued quickly, "I'm sorry, DiNozzo, it was a decision based on the evidence we had at the time. I felt that if the people who had ambushed you and Agent McGee were capable of shooting McGee in the head and leaving him for dead, that they were capable of killing you as well. Of course, Gibbs disagreed and did what he felt he had to do." She looked down, embarrassed. "I had to put official reprimands in their files, even though they were successful. I can't have agents disobeying direct orders."

"Oh, right." Tony's voice was faint. "I see."

Clearing her throat, Sheppard straightened her shoulders. "Well, again, welcome back Agent DiNozzo." Nodding briskly, she turned and left the room.

Tony scanned the room, spotting the three other agents. Grabbing a beer, he went to join them.

"What's the matter, DiNozzo, " asked Gibbs. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I just talked to the Director."

"Oh?" Gibbs took a swallow of his beer.

"She said that she told you not to look for me. That you went against her orders."

Scowling, Gibbs shrugged his shoulders. "She shouldn't have said anything, you didn't need to know that."

"Oh, but I think I did." Tony's tone was incredulous. "You came after me, against orders, and you didn't even know if I was alive."

Gibbs looked at him sharply. "We knew you were alive when we left DC, Tony. I look after my agents, you know that."

Nodding, Tony looked down at his feet. "You got reprimanded," he said softly.

Gibbs snorted. "Do I look like I care?"

Tony looked at Ziva, who shrugged and said, "I'm just here on a temporary basis."

McGee just cocked his head. "Hey, I was down there anyway."

Seeing Tony's eyes get bright with tears, Gibbs grabbed both his shoulders and made him make eye contact.

"I do not leave my agents without support. I do not write them off. I do not let anyone hurt my best agent." Gibbs was stern, but reassuring.

"Your best agent?" echoed Tony.

Smiling, Gibbs released Tony's shoulders. "Yeah, but don't expect me to treat you any differently. You mess up, I 'll rip you a new one."

"Yes, Boss." Tony ducked his head, embarrassed. "I'll try not to make you do that."

"Damn right." Gibbs took another swallow of his beer and walked over to where Ducky was telling Abby about the study of insect lifecycles and how that helped in determining the time of death of a victim. Standing there, listening to his old friend ramble, Gibbs thought back to his meeting with the Director.

Earlier that month

When Director Sheppard called Gibbs into her office to "talk", Ziva and McGee stood to join their boss in what was most likely to be a heated reprimand, if not suspension or firing, determined to acknowledge their part in the unauthorized rescue mission.

"Where do you two think you're going?" asked Gibbs.

Ziva squared her shoulders. "With you, to talk to the Director," she replied. McGee nodded in agreement.

"No," Gibbs said firmly. "You are not. This is between the Director and me. I take full responsibility for anything that was done against orders."

"But..." began McGee.

"No buts," interrupted Gibbs. "You were following my orders. No more discussion." With that, he turned and headed up the stairs.

The atmosphere in the Director's office was tense as Sheppard and Gibbs faced each other, each simmering with anger that had been building for the past few weeks.

"Special Agent Gibbs." Sheppard's voice was cold and hard. "You deliberately went against my orders and risked the lives of two other agents."

"I went to retrieve Special Agent McGee, who was injured during a mission we sent him on. Office David accompanied me. While there, we happened to locate Special Agent DiNozzo. We had to liberate him from the hands of mercenaries, but there were no casualties on either side." Gibbs looked the Director directly in the eyes as he calmly stated the cleaned up facts of their mission. "It's all in my report, Director."

"That report was a disgrace, Jethro!" fumed Sheppard. "It neglects to mention that you were strictly forbidden from going there, that you commandeered a local agent and pilot and spent two days trekking through the jungle to conveniently 'find' Agent DiNozzo."

Gibbs shrugged. "That's how it happened, Jen. My agents will back me up on that."

Jen threw the report onto her desk. "Your agents will say anything you tell them to say, Jethro. What you did was total insubordination and you know it!"

"What I did was look after my agents. If I had done what you said and written DiNozzo off, he'd be part of the human slave trade, being forced to do God knows what." Gibbs was no longer bothering to hide his anger and contempt.

"What is wrong with you, Jen?" he asked. "You were a field agent, would you have wanted your teammates to leave you to your own devices? Would you have left your teammates out there..."

"I have the entire agency to think about, Jethro," she interrupted. "Losing three agents in pursuit of one is not acceptable."

Gibbs snorted. "Same old argument. "

Director Sheppard glared at Gibbs. She looked at him suspiciously. "Is there something going on between you and DiNozzo?"

Gibbs eyes went wide. "What?"

"You're very quick to defend DiNozzo, despite his juvenile behavior. You seem pretty fond of him." Sheppard had her arms folded across her chest.

Gibbs' expression was one of amazement. "Well, yeah, I like him, and he's a good agent. He has his faults, but it's not as if any of us is perfect. What are you suggesting, Jen?"

"You coddle him; you let him get away with inappropriate behavior, especially toward Ziva."

"Ziva can handle herself just fine, Jen, and believe me, I've called him on some of his behavior, but for the most part, he's just having fun and lightening the mood." Gibbs cocked his head. "You seem to be keeping an unusually close eye on how I interact with my team; specifically DiNozzo."

"I'm still getting to know my people, Jethro, and DiNozzo is an immature, smartass womanizer," she huffed.

"Yeah, he is that, but he's got the best instincts I've seen in an agent. He's more than the image he puts on, and if you'd take the time to know your people, you'd realize that, Jen."

"You never really answered my question, Jethro. Are you intimately involved with DiNozzo?" Sheppard said accusingly.

Gibbs ran his hand through his hair. "Why would you even ask that, Jen?" he asked, exasperated. "What in the world would make a thought like that enter your head?"

"You have a history of getting involved with your subordinates," she replied smugly. "You touch him more than you do anyone else on your team, with all those hits to the back of the head. You seem closer to him than I've ever seen you with anyone else, except for Ducky."

"The team is my family. Tony is a member of my team; he's been with me the longest. I trust him with my back. Do I care about him? Yes, of course, but caring about someone does not necessarily lead to a sexual relationship."

"It's a very strong indicator, Jethro," Jen sniffed.

Shaking his head, Gibbs replied, "I feel sorry for you, Jen. You have a very narrow view of what 'love' is. Not every glance or touch is an invitation to bed. Really, don't read so much into these things." Gibbs headed for the door.

"We're not through here, Special Agent Gibbs." Sheppard's voice was getting louder and shriller. "We still have to discuss the issue of your unauthorized mission."

"Do what you have to do, Jen." Gibbs had his handle on the door when Sheppard tried to stop him again.

"It's Director Sheppard, Special Agent Gibbs." Her tone made Gibbs stop and turn slowly.

"You said that the day you started, Director Sheppard," he said coldly. "And yet you don't feel obligated to call me Gibbs or Special Agent Gibbs unless you're flaunting your authority." Sheppard started to say something but Gibbs interrupted, "Your behavior toward me since you became the director has been the very definition of 'mixed messages'. You throw around outrageous accusations…" He stopped, realization showing on his face.

"You're jealous!" he exclaimed.

"What?" sputtered Sheppard. "Jealous of what?"

Gibbs laughed. "You're jealous of the relationship I have with my team, jealous that I'm closer to my team than I am to you, so you read all sorts of crazy, inappropriate feelings into that closeness."

"I am not jealous ..."

"Then why are you associating my fondness for DiNozzo with an intimate relationship?"

Sheppard's face was red with fury. "Your concern for your agent and your insistence on going against my wishes had the passion of a lover…"

"My 'passion' in this whole thing was the passion of a person who was worried about a fellow agent and a friend, something any normal person would feel." Gibbs stopped and looked at Sheppard with a mixture of pity and disgust. "I've had enough of this ridiculous argument. Like I said, do what you have to do, but be careful about any accusations you make. They could come back to bite you on the ass."

Gibbs pulled the door open and stalked out, slamming the door behind him.