WEE (White Elephant Exchange on NFA) written for Smartkid37

This story's finished and I'll try to post one chapter/day.

Prologue

June 22, 2010

Amphibious assault ship USS French Ensor Chadwick
80 miles off the Virginia coast

"Where's McGee?" Gibbs straightened up and glanced around as if looking for someone. He'd been stooping over a corpse soaking the bunk it was lying on.

Tony looked up from his sketchbook. "McBarfbag? Left for the heads. What's taking him so long?"

Ziva lowered her camera with a frown. "He really is not feeling well. Why did you insist he come with us? He did say he would rather stay behind."

Gibbs flicked his head. "DiNozzo. Go get him back in here."

Ziva looked strangely at the Team Leader but then just sighed and walked to the head of the bunk to take a picture of the deceased from a better angle.

She didn't agree with Gibbs, but there was no way she could argue with the boss. It didn't stop her from worrying for her friend, though.

Tony looked as if he was about to say something, but decided against it and ran off to comply with Gibbs' order.

- -.-. -. . .

Meanwhile, Tony had found the heads and pushed open the door, his ears picking up the unmistakable sound of harsh retching.

"C'mon, McBarfbag. Time's up. Got work to do."

All he got for an answer was more vomiting followed by a low, guttural groan.

Finally, Tim flushed and emerged, wiping his mouth with a handkerchief. His hands were shaking badly.

"Done?" Tony asked, concerned at how pale his friend's face was and the sheen of perspiration that covered it didn't look healthy at all.

Tim could only nod, lips tightly pressed together as if afraid of another episode of regurgitation that would see him holed up in the head.

At that moment, Tony's cell chose to play its ridiculous ring tone and he answered it as they both started walking back to where they'd left their teammates processing the scene.

"DiNozzo…hey Boss...Okay, yeah we can do that…uh huh…right." he answered, grabbing Tim by the arm and stopping his ailing friend dead in his tracks as he snapped his cell phone shut.

"It's Davies and Beresford. You take Davies; his quarters are down this way. Think you can manage it?"

Tim swallowed and nodded weakly, saying with as much conviction he could muster: "Yeah. I'm fine."

"Okay, I'll go after Beresford. Take care Probie; they may be armed." Tony stared intently into Tim's feverish and sunken eyes. Suddenly, he saw what he'd ignored the whole time. The man was genuinely sick. However, there was no time to fuss about his friend, right now. Furthermore, the fact that they had to split up and that he wouldn't be able to have the kid's six, bothered him.

"You too." Tim replied with a small smile as he took a deep breath to help calm his nausea.

"Okay." Tony spun on his heels and ran off.

Tim jogged off in the opposite direction, turning the corner. God, his legs felt like jelly and the sweat was starting to pour out of him, taking away the clamminess and leaving him wringing wet instead.

One of the doors opened and a man appeared. He looked up startled and after spotting Tim, he sped off. With a groan, Tim ordered his weary legs, which seemed to weigh a ton, into a chase that he knew his body shouldn't be handling.

Davies threw open a door and ran onto the deck. As he looked back at his pursuer, he stumbled over a bolt and fell to his knees with a thud.

"NCIS!" Tim quickly aimed his Sig at the man who raised his hands in defeat and slowly stood up before taking small steps backwards, closer to the railing.

The NCIS agent edged closer until he stood beside the suspect, gun still trained on its target.

Tim cursed his weakness despite gaining the upper hand and hoped he would either have the man in cuffs or the back-up from his team before having to make another run for the heads.

Just as he was about to pat down the frisky suspect for a concealed weapon, a severe cramp hit him in the stomach which had him nearly bending double with the sudden assault of pain.

It was as if Davies had been waiting for this opportunity and he struck Tim in the face with his elbow. Tim's head flew back with the force and his side arm flew from his hand. However, he still had the presence of mind to struggle in the hopes of subduing the man; or at least keep him there until reinforcement arrived...hopefully soon.

It was a lost cause, for the man had been quick to determine the agent's weakness and so he planted a vicious kick in Tim's abdomen. Blinded by an excruciating pain, Tim stumbled backwards and then fell to the deck. Davies' shadow loomed over him and from the corner of his eye, Tim saw the man's foot coming towards him as if in slow motion. Unable to get away from the foot in time, he curled up, hiding his head in his arms, but his attempt to protect himself against the kick proved unsuccessful as Davies' foot connected violently with Tim's head. An extra push and a shove, and Tim was unceremoniously sent into the drink.

He was out cold before he hit the waters of the Atlantic Ocean, the ship leaving him behind to drown in the torrid sea.

- -.-. -. . .