This will be a roughly novel-length fan fiction where our faithful team gets stranded on an island in the Pacific (think NCIS/Swiss Family Robinson). Pairings will include Jibbs, Tiva, and McAbby, and the rating will be a firm T for romance, language and violence. Fun will be had by all. Enjoy!
I will only post this disclaimer once: This is a work of fiction utilizing characters I do not own nor claim ownership of. All rights belong to their proper owners.
Chapter 1 – Flight N76486
Special Agent Anthony Dinozzo tried to keep his attention on the never-ending plain of ocean outside his window, but the petite brunette sitting next to him made the task impossible. Her head was tilted towards him, her dark curls lying softly on his shoulder, a low snore tickling his ear. A break in her breathing made him glance at her. Her eyes fluttered open, and she started to yawn.
"Tony, where are we?"
"30,000 feet over the Pacific. Still about 7 hours from Tokyo."
She blinked rapidly. "That long? I feel like I have been sleeping for days."
"Me too," Tony smirked, then yowled when she abruptly hit him in the arm. "What was that for?"
"That," she replied, her eyes narrowed, "is for not waking me sooner. My bladder feels like it could pop."
"Burst, Ziva. It feels like it could burst."
She stood up stiffly and leaned suggestively over him. "That too."
Before he could respond, she headed towards the front of the plane in search of the restrooms.
Tony resumed his window-watching, then noticed with some concern black clouds emerging in the distance. The plane PA system chirped to life: "All passengers report to the squadroom."
The Naval Criminal Investigative Service, long one of the most under-funded federal agencies, had finally gained its first charter aircraft, an aging but fully-equipped Boeing 747. Tony couldn't help but feel a little pride at all the agency insignias that adorned the aircraft walls as he made his way to the first class section, retrofitted into a makeshift conference room with small armory and several computer systems. He entered the darkened room and took note of the rest of his teammates already circled around the table. His boss, grim, silver-haired Leroy Jethro Gibbs, ever-present coffee in hand, motioned to an empty seat next to Timothy McGee, who was looking paler than usual, either because of the flight or the combustible bundle of energy that sat to his right, her arm locked around his, forensic scientist Abby Scuito. Across the table sat the amber-haired director of NCIS, Jenny Shepard, her usually lovely face twisted into one of annoyance as she poked at a small black remote in her hands. She slid the remote across the table to McGee: "Make it work."
Tony slid into his seat and felt a nudge on his shoulder. "Where's Ziva?" asked Gibbs.
"Bathroom break," Tony replied. "Shouldn't take her long."
"We can't wait for her, Gibbs," Jenny said, and nodded to McGee. "This video feed is live from Okinawa."
The blue square projecting onto the screen was suddenly replaced with a smoky haze of flames and dust. Cries of pain echoed through the room, mingled with alarmed shouts and distant explosions.
Jenny talked over the video, her voice breaking audibly. "Marine Corps Air Station Futenma was targeted last night by an unknown group of terrorists. They managed to set off an unusually powerful sub-nuclear weapon of some kind, a so-called dirty bomb."
The video showed a man walking slowly through the carnage, his green camouflage seeming to dissolve and peel from his body. Tony realized with a shock that the man's skin had melted into the fabric, and sloughed away in flakes.
"At least six hundred deaths have been confirmed, a hundred civilians, and over four thousand injured."
Tony glanced over to Gibbs, whose eyes smoldered with anger in the dark. His coffee cup had crumpled in his hand. A white flash lit up the room and the video feed went dead, followed a split second later by the unmistakable rumble of thunder. A voice sounded over the PA system: "Director, we've encountered a pretty rough weather system. Permission to change course?"
Jenny groaned softly, then leaned over the table and spoke into a intercom.
"Granted, captain. However, keep us as close to the original flight plan as possible. Time is of the essence."
She pushed her head into her hands, furrowed her brows, then gave Tony a puzzled look.
"Ziva's been gone awhile, hasn't she?"
Ziva David was still a probationary NCIS agent, a "probie" as Tony loved to remind her. Though she pretended to despise the term, she relished the sense of comfort that her new title had given her. Mossad no longer controlled her, dictated to her the terms of her life. But at this moment, she could almost forgive her old agency because it had trained her to recognize threats in all forms, such as the one that had been stowed away under the women's bathroom sink, it's barely audible beeping the only clue to its existence.
Her subconscious training had taken over the screaming from her bladder, and the sight of a mess of wires tangled around a block of C4 only served to heighten the alarm. She had to work fast.
She dropped to her knees and pushed the cabinet door as far wide as it would go. She snatched her knife from its place on her belt and frantically counted the number of wires emerging from the duct-taped lump hidden behind the bomb.
There were. . far more than necessary for this kind of device. It was rigged with multiple false wires.
She breathed in sharply and went for the first one that looked like it was real.
Snip. The beeping stopped.
She exhaled in relief, and almost missed the soft click that indicated the bomb was priming. Detonation in less than a minute.
She scrambled up and burst out of the bathroom, nearly bowling over Tony in the process.
"Hey, whoa, Ziva! You OK?" he tried to steady her as she pitched forward. She screamed at the top of her voice: "BOMB! WE HAVE TO GET OUT!"
For a second, everyone froze. Gibbs' eyes locked onto hers, and read everything she couldn't say.
"Go!" he shouted, "To the back of the plane! Jenny!"
Still in the squadroom, the director quickly pushed McGee and Abby out of the room and barked orders into the intercom: "This is Director Shepard, all crew must eject immediately! There is a bomb onboard! Repeat, a bomb is onboard!"
Her mind working on autopilot, Ziva disappeared into the plane's back storage room, a plan forming feverishly in her mind. She grabbed the parachutes, fully aware their altitude was far too high for them to simply jump out.
A box caught her eye, and she snatched it from the shelf and set to work extracting its contents.
"Hold this," she handed the parachutes to Tony as he tried to push back the surge of fear that threatened to overtake him.
In quick succession, McGee, Abby, Jenny and Gibbs burst into the tiny room, and Gibbs slammed the door shut behind them. Tony started to ask about the pilots when two nickel-sized dents appeared on the door.
"The co-pilot killed the captain!" Gibbs shouted, then a monstrous roar sounded and the plane lurched out from beneath their feet.