Author's Note: NCIS belongs to CBS and Donald Belisarius. I am making no money off this.

This story contains themes and descriptions of child abuse and mental illness.

Chapter 1

"Hey, knock that off."

Jethro lurched forward on his leash. His ears lay flat against his head and he began to whine.

Tim looked around to see what was making his dog act so anxious.

A skinny, pale boy was sitting on the stoop outside a patio door. He was shielding the ears of a tiny girl that couldn't have been any older than four. They both seemed to be badly underweight and were silently crying. The way they hunched, it looked as though they were trying not to be seen.

"YOU STUPID, LITTLE, UNGRATEFUL SHIT! I WISH I NEVER FUCKED YOUR FATHER, YOU FUCKING, GOOD-FOR-NOTHING PIECE OF SHIT!" a woman shrieked from inside the apartment. "WHAT IN THE NAME OF GOD WAS I THINKING, GIVING BIRTH TO SUCH A STUPID LITTLE IDIOT LIKE YOU? CHRIST! I SHOULD'VE JUST ABORTED EVERY SINGLE FETUS THAT SHIT-HEAD EXCUSE OF A SLUG HUSBAND EVER SQUIRTED IN ME!"

Someone, an elderly voice, was obviously trying to calm things down. There was a crashing noise, breaking glass, someone else started crying.

"MOM, PLEASE! I'M SORRY!"

"He's just a boy, Ma-"

"SHUT UP, YOU SENILE FUCKING ASS-HOLE! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR YOUR WHINING! GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY SIGHT!"

Tim wasn't sure what to do, not exactly, but he couldn't stand there and act like he wasn't hearing it. He went over to the kids and crouched down so he didn't seem so threatening. "Hey, you two okay?"

The kids nodded, but didn't say anything.

"You wanna go play with my dog over at the park across the road?" God that sounded so…predatory. He cringed at the thought and pulled his badge out. "Here, see this? I'm a Federal Agent. My name's Tim McGee."

"Are you gonna 'rest momma?" the girl asked, looking up with puffy eyes. Her nose was running.

The boy quickly shushed her. "It's only yellin', mister. We're used to it."

"STUPID, FUCKING SHIT-HEAD, YOU CALL THIS A CLEAN KNIFE? HUH? YOU THINK I'M GONNA EVEN TOUCH FOOD WITH THIS FILTHY FUCKING BLADE? LOOK HOW FILTHY THIS IS! WHAT IF I GOT AN INFECTION FROM CUTTING MYSELF? YOU'RE FUCKING USELESS!"

A scream made Tim look up through the screen door. There was another boy crumpled next to the refrigerator. Blood was beginning to pool around him from severe wounds on his back. The woman had gone further into the house and was still screaming at someone. Cries of pain echoed through the small space.

"Take Jethro over to the park, okay? I'm going in to see if I can help calm things down," he told them, handing the little girl the leash. "I mean it."

Something in his voice must've tipped the younger brother off, because he looked inside. "Cullen!" he whispered in alarm. "He's bleeding!"

Tim shook his head at him. "Take your sister and my dog over to the park. Now."

They nodded, terrified, and quietly ran across the parking lot with Jethro following protectively behind them.

Special Agent Timothy McGee, of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service, took a deep breath and pulled out his cell phone. He needed help.

"Gibbs." a gruff voice said over the connection.

"Hey, Boss, I'm gonna be late. There's a situation at my apartment involving kids, can't stay out of it. One's been hurt, looks bad. I don't know specifics yet, but I think there's someone else being beaten as well."

"Need back-up?" Gibbs asked, sounding concerned.

"I'm calling the police after I hang up here. We don't have jurisdiction, so I'll hand it off when the LEOs show. I'll be in as soon as I can."

"Take your time, McGee. Give me a sitrep once it's under control."

"Will do, boss," he said, hanging up.

After dialing 911 and explaining the situation, Tim pulled out his sidearm and entered the apartment. The place was a mess. "Federal Agent, ma'am! Come out where I can see you!"

A thin, pale woman with self-cropped brownish red hair came running out into the kitchen. Her body radiated an intense rage that charged the whole apartment. "Get out of my house, Fed, you got no business coming in here!" she bellowed, waving a pistol at him. The safety was off and her finger twitched around the trigger guard.

Tim stood his ground. "Ma'am, put the weapon down. I'm from NCIS and if you don't do as I say, you are going to be arrested."

"Not fucking likely, pig!" she snorted, leveling the .22 at him. "I'm well within my rights to shoot trespassers!"

He tried to reason with her. "Your son is lying right behind me, ma'am. If you shoot at me, you might miss and hit him."

The woman grinned and pointed the gun at the boy on the floor. "Good. One less fucking mouth to feed."