Shadows from the trees outside left shifting shapes on the curtains as a light breeze blew in through the partially open window. Leon Vance briefly remembered seeing the flutter of the curtains as he was awakened from a deep slumber by the ringing of the telephone on his bedside table. Reaching out for the phone quickly, well aware that calls that came in the late hours of the night were never good news. "Vance." His voice stilled as he listened. "Yes. Okay, tell them I will be there as soon as possible."
Arising and dressing swiftly in simple black jeans, a button-down shirt, and loafers, his face reflected puzzlement as he pocketed his badge, ID, and clipped his revolver to his belt. That done, he alerted his his wife that he was leaving for the hospital to check on an injured agent.
Arriving swiftly at Bethesda Naval Hospital, he stopped to inquire at the desk in the ER when he noticed Dr. Donald "Ducky" Mallard beckoning from a room down a hallway to the left.
"Dr. Mallard, how is Agent McGee?" asked Vance as he reached the ME.
"Physically, he will recover just fine if given time to heal. However, he is quite upset, and rightly so I might add. I have seen many unsettling things happen involving this young man and his team, but this is beyond the pale, Director." Came the response of the obviously angry Medical Examiner.
"Where are the others?" was Vance's question.
"I have been informed that Abigail just left to take Ziva home after visiting with Anthony. Gibbs is still upstairs in Anthony's room and will likely remain there until Anthony's release in the morning. Ziva received scattered bruises, mild abrasions and lacerations, along with a total of 16 stitches in two separate gashes in her left arm. Anthony also obtained various bruises and abrasions, but is being kept overnight to be monitored for a mild concussion. They would have sent him home, but the fact that he was unconscious combined with the number of concussions he has received in the past, they would rather be safe than sorry. Gibbs and his team aren't even aware that Timothy is currently here, and he would prefer that it stay that way." was Dr. Mallard's reply. "He was brought here from the crime scene after Special Agent Talbot and his team arrived on the scene to relieve him. Talbot told me that he received a call from Gibbs that Timothy needed assistance at the crime scene almost three hours after the incident!"
"Talbot stated that on the ride to the hospital, Timothy reported that Gibbs and his team had just arrived at the crime scene and were gathering their equipment, waiting for assignments when there was an explosion. Apparently the house literally blew apart and they were all knocked from their feet. Anthony was unconscious from hitting his head on the car and Ziva received several cuts to her left arm from flying glass. Gibbs took one look at Anthony and Ziva's injuries, bundled them into the car, ordered Timothy to secure the scene, then left without once asking him if he had been injured. He left him there without transportation and with very poor cell phone reception. When Agent Talbot arrived there, he immediately could see that Timothy was obviously injured, so instructed his agents to finish processing what Timothy had not already done by himself and brought Timothy straight to the emergency room!"
"Also, Director, you need to be aware that Timothy has changed some of his information in his records here at Bethesda. He has taken Gibbs and DiNozzo off his record as being his next of kin and emergency contact, and replaced them with me as his next of kin and you as his emergency contact. He wants them to have nothing to do with his care and decisions, either currently or in the future."
The Director could tell that the normally unflappable doctor was extremely upset. "Thank you, Doctor. Right now I need to see and speak with Agent McGee." Leon responded. Receiving a nod of approval, he pushed past the agitated ME and entered his agent's treatment room, pausing in dismay at the sight of the young man. He could not understand Gibbs, even with McGee wearing a jacket, how could he not have seen that this man was injured? Had Gibbs even looked at McGee?
Special Agent Timothy McGee reclined shirtless against the back of the raised treatment table. His jacket and shirt, torn and bloodied, lay haphazardly across the end of his bed. Stark white bandages, showing small spots of blood, shrouded his right shoulder and arm almost down to his elbow with even more wrapping several times around his broad chest. Deep, already dark bruising showed below and beyond the bandages, leaving the young man's body looking like more of it was bruised than not. A line of dark stitches at his right eyebrow stood out in contrast to his pale complexion and a broad, dark bruise scrawled across his right cheekbone just under his eye. He looked up at Vance's entrance, and his always expressive eyes showed a combination of exhaustion, pain, anger, and something unidentifiable.
He spoke softly but clearly as the Director stopped just short of his bed. "Sir, thank you for coming. I am terribly sorry to wake you and bring you here at this hour, but I feel that this cannot wait. I have done everything I can think of to . . . to be a member of this team. For five years I have tried to make this work, but after today I believe that whatever I do will never be enough. As much as I love what I do . . . as much as this has been my ultimate goal since I was quite young . . . I cannot overlook this anymore. If I keep on, our enemies aren't going to kill me . . . my teammates will."
"Agent McGee, I understand and completely agree with how upset you are at this time. I can definitely understand that your faith and trust in your teammates has been so obviously abused. Firstly, I want you to know that I am not upset that you felt secure enough to notify me of your injury and your problem, no matter the time. That is part and parcel to my job description. Secondly, I will not ask you to go out in the field with people in whom you have no trust. I only ask that you not quit, please? I may have an alternative available for you. Let's just get you well for now, and we will look into your options after that, all right? Now I understand that you do not wish to notify Gibbs and company that you are here at this time?"
"No, sir, I don't. It has been driven home to me today that they really don't care, that I am simply a tool for them to use. They take me down from the shelf and use me when my particular skill set is needed, but once that is done I am again overlooked and merely tolerated. The field skills I have managed to develop have been because of assisting other teams or agencies, observing other agents, or learning from training sessions that I have attended. My team . . . what a joke . . . I don't need anything from them right now. I just want to . . .," Tim stopped and dropped his head as he said, "Truthfully, Director Vance, right now, I would just like to go to sleep and forget that this day ever happened."
"You rest, Agent McGee, I'll talk with your physician and see what he says. Then we will see where we go from there." He gently patted Tim on the leg as he turned to the door, "Just rest for now. I'll be back." Opening the door to leave, he turned to look one last time at the dejected figure of the special agent he secretly had a special fondness for. Kind, loyal, considerate, intelligent, this young genius with not only superb technological skills, but also investigative prowess and so much more potential; No, he couldn't let the agency lose such a valuable asset due to what he considered blatant favoritism and failure to "move with the times".
He entered the hall, where Dr. Mallard was talking to a trauma room physician. "Dr. Mallard, is this Agent McGee's physician?"
Both doctors looked up at the sound of his voice, the elderly Medical Examiner introducing the Director, "Ahhh, here is Timothy's superior right now. Director Vance, this is Dr. Volner, Timothy's treating physician. Apparently, they have decided to keep Timothy for the night, to be evaluated again sometime tomorrow afternoon. If all is well then, he may be released. I will go in and stay with our young man until they get him settled in a real room, then give you a call if that is okay with you?"
Acknowledging the introduction with a handshake, Leon stated "Very good, Dr. Mallard. Please, keep me informed." Turning to the trauma room physician as Ducky entered McGee's room, he asked, "How is my agent, Doctor? What is the extent of his injury?"
Dr. Volner smiled and said, "Why don't we go into the lounge here and sit down for a minute? I need to get some coffee while I have a minute, and we can talk." Leading the way into a staff lounge, the doctor got each of them a cup of coffee and indicated a table to sit. Leaning back in his chair, he looked at Leon directly. "I suppose you know that is one very hurt young man, in more ways than one?"
"Oh, yes, doctor. I know that quite well, and he and I have spoken on the matter, and will speak more when he has taken some time to heal. But right now I need to know the extent of his injuries. Dr. Mallard said he is being admitted to the hospital and kept? Do we need to make arrangements for a place for him to stay after his release? Please, just let me know what I need to so that I can help him the best that I can."
"First of all, Director Vance, I removed nine separate pieces of shrapnel, mostly nails and glass, from your man's right shoulder, right arm, right neck and chest. One of those nails came very close to puncturing his right lung, but it looks stable at this time. He was apparently hit by fragments of boards and perhaps an occasional brick or stone over his torso so he is literally covered with bruises and x-rays show a couple of cracked ribs. He has a particularly nasty bruise on the side of his left thigh where he stated he landed on a concrete block when he was thrown by the blast. He is going to be stiff and sore from the bruising and the fall, his various punctures and cuts should be monitored for infection, and movement in his right arm should be extremely restricted for a week to ten days. He has a total of 32 stitches in his wounds, which should also be monitored and removed in seven to ten days. He will be kept overnight for observation and to monitor his pain level. If all goes well, he will be released sometime tomorrow with the understanding that he needs to have someone with him for approximately 10 to 14 days. All said, he was very lucky. It could have been very much worse!"
As he listened to the list of injuries to his young agent, Vance couldn't help the anger that was forming, aiming straight at Special Agent Gibbs and his "Team". Apparently, from what he had been able to find out, McGee had been more severely injured than either of the other two, but had been left at the crime scene by himselfto secure the scene and begin processing the evidence! No, he had no trouble understanding where McGee's anger and distrust was originating!
************************* NCIS*********************
On another floor in the hospital Gibbs studied the face of his senior agent as he slept. It always set him on edge when Tony was injured. Even though he never said it out loud, Tony DiNozzo was "the son of his heart". He could see so much of himself in this young agent. The drive, the investigative instinct, the way he trusted his hunches; yes, he and Tony were very much alike.
He liked to think that was at least a little bit due to his influence on this talented young agent's life. It kind of left a proud feeling somewhere down deep inside him to think that upon his retirement, his team would be taken over by someone trained by him, using his techniques to guide the lives of young agents in the future.
Speaking of guiding young agents, he wondered if McGee was through at the scene and why he hadn't yet arrived here at the hospital to check on his teammates. He took out his cell and dialed McGee's number, frowning when he heard it go to voicemail. What the heck? McGee knew he was never to be unreachable. Why in the world was he not answering his phone? He waited 15 minutes and then dialed again with the same result. A try fifteen minutes later yielded the same result. Just wait until he saw McGee in the morning! He would headslap that young man so hard his grandchildren would still be reeling from it when they graduated high school!
*************************** NCIS *********************
Meanwhile:
In a room just down the hall and around a corner, Ducky sat in a chair beside the bed of a sedated young man he deeply cared about, staring at the caller ID of Timothy's phone as it vibrated in his hand, announcing another call. He wondered sadly why Gibbs chose now of all times to try to call the young man. Why didn't he call when it would have counted? Uncharacteristically, the elderly doctor looked his age as he powered down his young friend's phone with a sad sigh. "Oh, Jethro! I wonder if you know what you have done this time? . . . Or if you even care?"
**************************** NCIS********************
It was three hours later than his normal arrival time before Gibbs made his way into the Navy yard, carrying his third cup of coffee of the morning with him. He had just returned from getting Tony settled in the guest room at his house after his release from the hospital, and was now ready to "take care of business". As the elevator doors opened and he strode aggressively into the bullpen, determined to take a strip of flesh off McGee for being unreachable last night and this morning and for not informing his boss what he had found at the scene of the explosion. It gave him momentary pause when his plan of attack was halted by the intended recipitee not being present. His gear was not stored under his desk and his computer was not powered up, it looked as if he hadn't even been in yet this morning. Ziva sat at her desk, left arm bandaged from wrist to elbow. Speaking to her as he walked to his desk, he ground out, "Where's McGee?"
Looking up at what she had apparently been intently working on, Ziva quickly gauged his mood and responded, "I have not seen him as yet this morning. I was surprised, as he is usually the first of us in the office each day. How is Tony?"
"They released him this morning. Took him to my house, he's s'posed to lay low and rest a few days. Figure we'll see him back in here sometime tomorrow. You know how he pushes the envelope." was Gibb's reply. He turned to his desk phone and dialed. "Abby, need you to do a trace on McGee's phone for me." "McGee's phone? But Gibbs . . . " came the expected response.
"Yes, Abby. He's not in yet this morning, and I haven't been able to reach him all night or this morning. He's not answering. So, Yes, I need you to trace . . ." his voice broke off as another voice cut through what he was saying to Abby.
"So you are finally worried about him, eh, Agent Gibbs? Or are you just mad at him because he's not responding?" came the caustic voice of Leon Vance.
"Later, Abs." Gibbs said into the phone distractedly. Looking up at the balcony where Vance had apparently been watching, he rose to his feet and quickly made his way up the stairs, following the Director as he entered his office.
"Please hold all calls, Pam, unless it is from one of these two contacts, and he handed her a piece of paper.
"Yes, sir." was her polite response.
Sitting behind his desk, he waited until Gibbs stood in front of him, stance reminiscent of the military's "parade rest". Looking at the aggressive posture and angry features of the man in front of him, he pondered the hidden steel that enabled mild-mannered Tim McGee to last the five years that he had been on Gibbs team. "You have a problem that I should know about, Gibbs?"
"Gee, ya think, Leon? I got two on my team out with injuries, and one God knows where. Yeah, I might have a problem." was Gibbs short reply.
"Three." was Vance's vague response.
"What? Three what? Come on, Leon, I don't have time for games. I need to find McGee and figure out what happened at the house."
"I said, 'Three', Gibbs. You have three injured members of your team, as you would know if you cared enough to have asked one simple question yesterday. TELL ME! Did you even consider Agent McGee after the explosion, or was all your concern on your "surrogate son" and your "foster child"?" came Vance's biting answer. "Did you even look at Agent McGee? If so, your powers of observation need some reschooling. It only took one glance for Talbot to see that McGee was injured. Of course, that was over THREE HOURS after said injury occurred. What were you thinking of leaving him there with no transportation? Did you even stop to consider that there was no cell phone coverage in that area? What would he have done if the perpetrator had returned? What did he do, injured and alone, at the scene of his injury? He did the only thing he knew to do. He secured the scene, started processing, and waited. He waited over three hours for relief that should have been there in less than thirty minutes! Special Agent Talbot immediately took him to the ER, where McGee practically begged them to call Dr. Mallard insteadof you. By the way, you are no longer McGee's next of kin on his medical record, nor is DiNozzo his emergency contact."
As Leon spoke, he watched the aggressive posture and anger fade gradually from Gibbs, gradually giving way to concern, mixed with shame and self-recrimination. As the Director finished his lecture, Gibbs turned as if to leave the room. "Where do you think you are going, Agent Gibbs?"
"To the hospital, to see my man, where ya think, Leon?"
"First, he is no longer your man. Second, he doesn't want to see you or any member of your team. He has been quite specific about it."
Gibbs turned back, sinking down into the chair in front of Vance's desk as if he didn't have the strength left to stand. "No longer mine? You yanking him from the team, Leon?"
"No, Gibbs." Vance brought up his hand and rubbed his forehead tiredly. "Want to guess where I spent my night? Like you, I spent my night at the hospital. Unlike you, resting quietly at the bedside of your team mate, I spent mine pacing beside a bed, trying hard to not go to DiNozzo's room and knock some sense into you. When I wasn't pacing, I was talking, trying to talk a young and talented agent, one of the best I have seen coming up in the agency in years, into not just turning in his badge and leaving."
"Leaving! You mean he WANTS to quit? But this is his dream, he has wanted to be a NCIS agent on the MCRT since his mother and sister's murders when he was in his early teens!" Gibbs was appalled.
"Yes, Gibbs, he wanted to quit, but I talked him out of it. He is staying with NCIS, but he will not be on your team any longer. He stated last night that for the past few years he has felt his trust in his fellow team members wearing away, but he stayed because he felt that he could depend on you. After yesterday's debacle, he no longer feels that way. In fact, let me quote you one sentence that he said to me that convinced me that he was right. He said 'If I keep on, our adversaries aren't going to kill me . . . my teammates will!' and he firmly believes it."
"He . . . he doesn't trust us? He thinks we would . . . And he believes it, Leon? Why?" came Gibbs confused response.
"Come on, Gibbs! Get you head out of where it doesn't belong and think! Take a good long look at how your team has treated McGee over the years. I know several times, and my guess is that there are many more that I don't know of. DiNozzo spreading the rumor that he was gay during McGee's first month on your team, and him narrowly escaping three separate instances of bashing . . . the last time only due to the fact that he drew his weapon to defend himself. There's the Mikal Mawher incident, the drug dog attack fiasco, Mexico with Ms. Scuito where he very easily could have lost his life due to her determination to get her own way, you forcing him to enter that mosquito-infested hot tub, DiNozzo fooling him into not volunteering and me into calling him out on it in front of everyone. How many times has he been tazered with DiNozzo doing nothing but making him the butt of several jokes because of it, not to mention superglue and other harrasment? Sounds like a bunch of high school bullies if you ask me!"
"He held out as long as he could, Gibbs. He was okay as long as he felt he could count on you. But yesterday, you left him out there, alone, injured, abandoned, and you didn't even ask him if he was hurt before you left with the others. You know what, Gibbs? He was injured worse than the other two. He had been peppered with rocks, boards, and had shrapnel STUCK in him, literally nailing his jacket and shirt on, and YOU didn't notice? Did you even look at him, or did you even care?
Gibbs just sat there, stunned, shaken to his core. It had come home to him in a rush that he had broken his own rules. He had "screwed over his partner-or in this case his teammate. He had "assumed"-wrongly, that McGee was okay at the scene. He had "wasted good"-and McGee was good and getting better. He had taken something for granted-that McGee would always be there and just take whatever was handed to him without complaint. To top it all off, he had broken the "Marine Code" that he had lived by for so long-he had left a man behind.
After leaving Vance's office, Gibbs was remarkably quiet and moody when he returned to his desk. Several covert glances later, Ziva quietly approached his desk. "Gibbs, may I ask a question?"
Not really giving her an answer, he simply raised his eyes to her face and waited.
"What is wrong? You have said nothing since coming back from your meeting with the Director. Has something happened? Where is McGee?" Her eyes searched his, seeking understanding.
"Ziva, pack it in. Get Abby and the two of you meet me at my house in an hour." As he spoke, he pocketed his badge, ID, and weapon. "I need to talk to Ducky." He turned and left her there, wishing she understood just what was happening.
************************NCIS***********************
At Bethesda Naval Hospital, Ducky was helping a slightly woozy McGee replace the immobilizer on his right arm after getting dressed. The nurse had just arrived to help process the papers for his release. Leaving the room for a moment while the nurses kept Timothy busy signing form after form, he approached the nursing desk to see if he could speak with Dr. Volner one last time before leaving with his young friend. Glancing down the hall, he saw a familiar silver-haired head just leaving the elevator and turning to the nursing desk. Dreading the approaching confrontation, he waited for Gibbs to reach him before he put one hand up, effectively halting Gibbs in his tracks.
"Before you ask, Jethro, yes, he is being released soon. He is taking medical leave for at least the next three weeks. He is not returning to his apartment and I will not disclose where he is going to be during his recovery. And No, you cannot see him. He does not want to see you or any of the team, at least until he is recovered."
"Duck, I need to see him, just for a minute or two! I need to set things right with him." Gibbs began.
"Jethro, I don't know what to tell you. Right now, he is hurting, both physically and emotionally, and he really does not need the complication of what can potentially become an argument. I will NOT allow Timothy's health to be compromised by more stress than he is currently under. Don't try to find him. And, no, he will not be staying with me, because I knew that you would just wait until I was at work or busy doing something else, and you would barge in on him. Now, Jethro, I must return and assist Timothy."
As Ducky turned to go, Gibbs reached out a hand and caught his arm, effectively stopping him for a moment. "Duck, give him a message for me, then. Tell him . . . tell him 'I'm sorry', and that I would really like to talk with him and make things right."
"I will tell him, Jethro. However, I cannot promise he will change his mind. He is much like you in that once his mind is made up, he stands fast on his decision. He feels like he is not wanted on your team, merely used for his computer expertise and otherwise simply tolerated, and after this disaster he feels betrayed by the last person on the team that he trusted." and with that Ducky continued on his way back to Tim, leaving Gibbs just standing there in the hallway.
**********************NCIS************************************
"We are here, Timothy. Wake up, lad." Ducky's familiar voice cut through the medically-induced slumber that had overtaken him in the car. "Come, let me help you. Careful now." Having maneuvered McGee out of the car and got him standing, albeit somewhat unsteadily, he then took Tim's good arm and helped him onto the porch of an unfamiliar house.
Once at the door, they were greeted by the smiling but concerned face of Jackie Vance. "Oh, Dr. Mallard, Agent McGee, I didn't expect you quite this early. Come on in! Let's get you in the guest room and get you settled so that you can rest."
It showed the level of his medicinally-induced confusion that Tim never voiced a complaint or made a comment about how she should not be making a fuss over him, that he would just be a burden and they should just let him go back to his apartment where he wouldn't be putting anyone out. Getting the exhausted young man settled in the guest bed, they watched as he fell asleep even as Jackie covered him with the comforter. Laying a gentle hand against his forehead and then taking a moment to gently sweep his hair back from his forehead, she said, "He looks so young, Doctor. He seems so . . . fragile right now. Are you sure he is going to be all right?"
After assuring himself that the restraint that was holding Timothy's right arm immobile against his chest was properly adjusted, Ducky turned to Jackie, "Please, call me Ducky. He will be fine given sufficient time to heal and the emotional support that he will need during his recovery. Timothy's trusting nature has been severely . . . abused . . . many times during his young life, but this last betrayal has raised an emotional storm that I am afraid if left untreated, will result in the formation of a bitterness that will negatively affect his personality. And that would be the greatest shame of all, my dear." was Ducky's answer.
"Then we will have to see what we can do to prevent that from happening. I know that Leon is very concerned about him. He seems to think that Tim has a great future with NCIS and is very proud of him." She answered. "I will keep an eye on him when you are not here, and Leon and I want you to know that you are welcome here anytime, day or night. We will see what we can do about alleviating some of his stress and perhaps bring some lightness into his life."
"I thank you, Mrs. Vance, however, now I must take myself to the Yard and see what mischief my assistant has managed to get himself into in my absence. I will bring Mr. Palmer with me this evening when I come back to check on Timothy. He will be more than happy to help with Timothy's care. They are good friends, and Mr. Palmer can be trusted to not reveal Timothy's location to Gibbs or the others. " He smiled at her as he turned to leave the house. "Your husband has instructed me to stop by Timothy's apartment and retrieve his dog before returning tonight. He has assured young Timothy that you would not be adverse to having the animal here for the duration of the young man's recovery?"
"That will be just fine, Ducky, bring him on over this evening. I do insist that you call me Jackie, though. If you are going to be here as often as I think you are, the formality would be ridiculous." and with another smile she closed the door and turned to check on her new charge.
*************************NCIS*************************
Leon Vance just sat in his chair behind his desk, staring at the telephone receiver in his hand as if it was a foreign object he had never seen before. He had just got off the phone with Admiral McGee, calling the man to inform him that his son had been injured "in the line of duty" and that he should recover well given proper time and therapy. The response was definitely NOT what he had expected when he had called . . .
"Admiral McGee? This is Leon Vance, Director of NCIS, calling to inform you that your son was injured while on a case today. Now, he's going to be all right but it may take some time and some care. He is in hospital right now, so as he is currently unable to call you, I decided as a courtesy to inform you myself."
"Your courtesy is admirable but unnecessary Director Vance as I have absolutely no interest in The Boy or his well-being. At the age of 13 he allowed his mother and sister to be murdered in our own home. His stupidity, cowardice, and inability to effectively protect them has been a source of deep and bitter disappointment to me, as was his decision to work for NCIS instead of joining the Navy and serving proudly as all of his paternal male ancestors. I therefore disowned him and have not considered myself to have had a son for well over 10 years now. The only notifications I will need from NCIS will be when the Boy is finally killed." and the call ended with an ear-shattering "Bang" as the Admiral slammed down the receiver on his end.
Wondering now how someone as amiable and well-thought-of on "the Hill", throughout DC, and many federal agencies as Timothy McGee could possibly be the progeny of someone like Admiral John McGee, Vance thanked the stars that the young man he truly considered his protege' had somehow grown up to be the person that he was today.
"Well," thought Vance, "Wait until I tell Jackie about this! She is going to be "Mother Henning" him so thoroughly that "baby bird" isn't going to have a clue! Wonder what he'd think of changing his last name to Vance . . . ?" The last thought brought a quirky smile to his face as he thought of his wife and children cajoling McGee INto change his last name!
