Hey, peeps! Ah….. I'm so glad I'm making this! Anywho….. I've always wondered why I like hurting my favorite NCIS character… I mean, if I love him, why would I put him through all this torture? You may expect me to answer that question, but, I don't know! Go ask Albert Einstein!

Disclaimer: Nope, I never have owned NCIS and sadly, I never freaking will! L

Prologue:

"Stop!" begged a small blonde boy, no older than ten years old. "Please, stop!" The cries of Timothy McGee went unheard as he tried to scramble further away from the drunkard in his room. Various parts of his body were bleeding profusely, but the pain was drowned out by fear. Eventually, he reached the wall, his back pressed flush up against it with nowhere to go.

A tall man with identical hair as the boy loomed threateningly over him, a broken beer bottle in one hand and a baseball bat in the other. "Shut up!" the man ordered, throwing the bottle and bat onto the ground. He picked Timothy up by his collar and pressed him up against the wall, dangling him in the air. "Shut the hell up, you little bastard! You will never speak that way to me, you hear me, you ungrateful bitch?!" He beat the child several more times, slapping him once and punching him in the gut twice.

Timothy's lip quivered but made no sound. "I-I'm sorry, Father," he said shakily. He let out a choked sob, disguising it as a cough as he spit up blood.

Ronald McGee's eyes widened and his expression turned feral. "What did I just tell you, boy?" he screamed as he flung his son to the ground. His nostrils flared as he let out a snarl. Ronald kicked Timothy in the stomach before stomping out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Timothy lay in a mangled heap of twisted limbs and blood. He sobbed silently, for fear of his father overhearing. Mom, he thought brokenly, why did you leave? At the thought of his mother, he remembered the cell phone his mother gave him for his ninth birthday. Carrie McGee had known about the abuse, and told her son to use it if her husband got too violent.

"Keep it hidden from your father," she had told him quietly, pressing a wrapped box into his hand. Giving him a swift peck on the forehead, she ushered Timothy into his room before gliding away to soothe her drunken husband.

Carrie McGee died later that week in a 'freak accident.' They all knew it was Ronald's doing, but no proof could be provided. The drunkard was smarter than he let on to carry out the murder.

As he dialed 911, Timothy managed to crawl back over to the wall, huddling in a corner and praying his father wouldn't come back in. "911, what is your emergency?" a woman said, her voice immediately giving hope to Tim.

"M-y name is Timothy McGee, and I live—I live on 7845 W-Westfield Drive, Farmington H-Hills, Mi-Michigan. Father just—my dad beat me up a-again. Please help me," he begged, holding back a sob. Timothy sniffled pitifully. "Please."

There was a moment of silence, and Timothy knew the lady was debating whether this was a real emergency or a prank by the neighborhood boys. Eventually, she decided it was real and informed him the police and paramedics would be with him shortly. "Would you like me to stay on the phone?" she asked kindly, knowing the boy was terrified to death. And probably beaten near to death as well, she thought ruefully.

"No!" he exclaimed, green eyes widening fearfully. "Father will just come and hurt me more!" Timothy quickly hung up and waited in silence, letting out no sound but the occasional whimper or sniffle. In a mere ten minutes, sirens could be heard, and the police and an ambulance arrived at his home. Crawling across the room in agony, he pushed himself up to look out the window. There was his father, being restrained and handcuffed by three different officers. A wave of relief washed over him. He would finally be free from his father.

Tim strained to keep his eyes open, for fear he would wake up and find this was all just a dream. He felt himself slipping. The last thing Timothy heard was, "I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU! WHEN I GET OUT OF JAIL, YOU'LL BE SORRY, YOU LITTLE BASTARD!"

And all went black.