Shared Pain
Shellie Williams
Rating: K+
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or places of NCIS.
Summary: H/C featuring Tim and Tony
"Hold it!" A whimpering sound made McGee pause. He lowered his weapon a fraction and softened his voice. "Come out where I can see you." Cautiously, he moved forward, aware of Tony behind him, watching his back. Out of the shadows two quivering hands appeared, then thin arms covered in dirty, shredded sleeves, and finally, a young face, lips trembling, eyes tearing. His heart squeezed inside his chest. McGee immediately lowered his weapon and put it away.
"Please - don't hurt me." The tremulous words seemed to be the dam holding back the flood. Tears abruptly welled and began falling from the young girl's eyes.
Tim stepped forward. "I'm sorry - I'm not going to hurt you - just -"
"No, Tim - wait!" Tony's warning came too late.
The girl's lips curled back and anger transformed her pitiful expression into a mask of defiance. She reached inside her rags, yanked out a knife, and dove at McGee, tackling him and slashing her blade downward. McGee fell to his back and cried out, scrambling desperately to capture her wrists and keep the knife away from his body. She was wiry and fast, and the blade stabbed into his shoulder before he could stop her.
He grunted when she climbed over him and escaped. Pain pinned him to the floor. He lay gasping, his hand clutched to his shoulder, trying to figure out exactly what just happened. Someone knelt over him, eclipsing his vision. Fear sent adrenaline rushing through him and he twisted, trying to escape.
Tony called out to him, "McGee - it's me! It's okay, Tim, I got you."
Relief rushed through him, but agony curled him off the floor. He cried out in pain and folded against Tony. Pressed against Tony's chest, he listened as Tony's voice rumbled muffled through his ear. He couldn't hear the words, but sensed calmness and reassurance as Tony's arms tightened around him. An abrupt feeling, like all of his blood rushing to his feet, had his head floating unattached from his body. He closed his eyes. Darkness shut him off and he sank gratefully into it.
Tony knelt breathless on the floor, Tim a heavy weight in his arms. Grimly, he let go with one arm so he could reach for his phone. Tim listed dangerously. Tony hurriedly cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder and grabbed McGee to keep him from falling. He'd hit the speed dial for Gibbs.
"Gibbs."
"Boss. We found Avian. She had a knife; she stabbed McGee. I need an ambulance and backup. In that order. Now." He let the phone fall to the floor, ending the conversation. Grunting, he shifted and sat on the floor. Tim's head lolled back in the bend of his elbow. Gently, Tony reached across him and supported Tim's skull, eased him up so his neck wasn't so severely arched. The wounded shoulder was pressed between them, and the pressure of their bodies seemed to have slowed the blood flow. The knife was still imbedded; Tony was careful not to jar it. He knew better than to pull it out.
Tim's eyebrows drew together and he groaned. Believing he was about to wake up, Tony carefully propped him against the top of his legs and leaned closer. "Ssshhhhh! It's okay, Tim. I'm right here." With Tim's upper body supported, Tony released his head and cupped his palm against Tim's face. He felt cool and clammy. Probably going into shock.
Eyelashes fluttered and Tim's eyes blinked open, half-slitted and watery. " - Tony?"
Tony swallowed hard. Where the hell was that ambulance? Is this what it felt like to sit in the middle of a foxhole with your dying buddy in your arms? He's not dying! "I'm here, Tim. Help's coming. Just hang in there, okay?"
Tim's eyes closed. He licked his lips. "She - she thought I was going to hurt her."
"Sshh - don't try to talk."
Suddenly, Tim's forehead creased in deep lines and his body stiffened against Tony. He curled in tight, grunting in pain. Tony held him, wishing he could do something. Tim's hand grabbed for the knife. Tony clenched his own hand tight around Tim's.
"No! Tim, leave it alone."
Tim's words ground out between clenched teeth, "It - hurts. Pull it out."
Carefully, firmly, Tony pried Tim's fingers away and pulled his hand to his chest. He curled his other arm around Tim, holding him tight. "No. Be still. Breath, Tim, just breath."
Tim's head rolled to the side and he pressed his face into Tony's chest. The fingers clenched in Tony's fist unfurled and he wrapped them around Tony's hand. Swallowing hard, Tony returned the grip and held on, helping his friend through his pain.
Tony sat still and quiet at his desk. It was late; the lights were dim, only one or two people were still there. He knew with his head where he was; he could feel his hand pressed against his chin, the weight of his head perched against his palm, the back of his chair supporting him. Legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles, he sat staring across the dark office, but his heart still felt and saw McGee in his arms; the way his body trembled and quivered with pain. It still seemed so real. He could still hear Tim's breathing, labored and laced with sub-vocal moans ghosting between his lips. He studied the back of his hand, expecting to see some kind of imprint there from McGee's grip.
Pushing away from his desk, Tony stood abruptly, as if trying to escape his memories. He was comfortable with teasing Tim, tricking and joking with him. He was used to sneaking around and finding out little tidbits to share with others that probably caused Tim embarrassment. It was his way of showing he cared, and Tim knew it. He wasn't used to remembering the weight of Tim's body, pliant and lax in his arms, bleeding, twitching with pain. It made him feel as if they'd moved to a new level, like he'd somehow seen inside of Tim's soul; and it was unsettling.
"Tony."
Startled, Tony whirled to face Gibbs, then attempted to look as if he weren't surprised. He knew Gibbs wasn't fooled. "How's McGee?"
Instead of sitting at his desk, Gibbs leaned against it, crossing his arms over his chest. "Tim will be fine. The doctor removed the knife without any problems. He said it didn't damage any muscles or major tissues. He wouldn't even need therapy."
Tony nodded, moving back to his desk and trailing his hand along the top. "Good, good. That's good."
"How're you doing?"
Surprised with the question he allowed a gruff chuckle to escape and looked at Gibbs. "I'm fine. I wasn't the one stabbed."
"No, but you saw it, and stayed with Tim until I got there. Until the ambulance arrived. Anything else happen that I need to know about?"
Tony shrugged. He studied Gibbs' expression, trying to read it, but as usual, gleaned nothing from the bland features watching him. "Nothing else happened." Gibbs returned the shrug and pushed away from the desk to leave. Tony called him back, "But -" Gibbs stopped. Watched him. "What do you mean - what makes you think something else happened?"
Gibbs' eyes narrowed. Tony felt as if he were being measured. Gibbs stepped close, kept his voice low. "It's rough, when a friend's hurt. You ever heard the saying, Tony? "Shared joy is doubled, shared pain is halved?""
That was unexpected. Tony shook his head, his jaw working with unspoken words as his mind worked through things.
Gibbs lifted his hand and gripped Tony's shoulder. "You helped Tim tonight, Tony. It's not easy getting someone through being hurt like that. You've done it for me before, and I've done it for others; I know what it feels like."
Tony held still, afraid of breaking the moment; afraid his mouth would run away with his tongue and say something stupid and erase what Gibbs was trying to tell him. "It felt like -" Embarrassed, Tony rolled his lips together. Taking a deep breath, he pushed it all out in one breath, "It felt like we were connected."
Gibbs nodded. He didn't say anything else. He tightened his grip on Tony's shoulder, then let go, turned and walked away.
Tony stood still for a long time, going over and over that tiny conversation in his mind. He knew once he moved; once he left and went home, and when morning came and he was back in the office, it would all seem like a dream. He knew moments like these didn't come often, and they weren't taken out and talked about like repeated jokes or shared memories. Times like these were kept inside and guarded. And he intended to remember this one for the rest of his life.
Sighing, he reached to turn out his desk lamp. It was late and visiting hours were over, but he figured he'd swing by the hospital and peek in on McGee and (he smiled to himself) just watch him sleep for a little while.
The End