Heroes On Horseback by ceilidh
A/N: Hello again, and welcome to my first sequel to Heroes And Demons. I'd better add now, though, that this isn't the one you'll be expecting. I'm still working on the long awaited return of Jay Clark!
No, this is just a very short story to let Tim lay those awful memories to rest, in a very special way.
The idea for it came from watching Sean Murray in one of his earlier roles, as Zane Hart in the sadly short-lived series Harts Of The West.
Mark Harmon fans will know that Mark also appeared in one of the episodes, The Right Stuff. He played a rodeo clown – and it must be said that both the boys look great in the saddle!
So after watching the whole series over the Easter weekend (thank goodness for multi-region DVD players!), my playful little plot-bunny came up with this mini-sequel. Don't worry, the big one featuring the return of Jay Clark will eventually follow!
To set the scene, it's a few days after the events of Heroes And Demons. Tim's back at work, and everything seems fine, but – well, like all the best dads and big brothers, Gibbs and Tony are still keeping a subtle eye on him ;o)
Spoilers, of course, for Bloodbath, and also a very quick reference to one of my favourite scenes from Untouchable.
As always, I hope you enjoy! :o)
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Heroes On Horseback
Rock Creek Park. It was one of the most breathtakingly beautiful, and popular, places in the city.
Unfortunately, it was also the favourite haunt for some of Washington's less law-abiding residents. Barely a week went by without the grisly discovery of brutal violence – and it had happened today.
For reasons as yet unknown, a young Marine had been bludgeoned to death, with sickening force – and the task of finding his killer had shifted from the US Park Police to NCIS, and Jethro Gibbs' team.
Beyond the fury he'd felt, at the brutal murder of a brother-in-arms, Gibbs had also felt a quiet pride. Only the best agents made it to Major Response. And in every way, this team, his team, was the best.
DiNozzo. Ziva. McGee. These three uniquely quirky kids could handle anything that he threw at them.
Well, almost anything. As he'd just discovered, even the strongest, bravest mind had its breaking point. And while he'd never usually baby his team, especially someone as independent as Tim McGee – well, all recent events considered, Gibbs still felt honour bound to make a discreet exception now.
It had been his misassumption, his misguided punishment, that had set those events in motion – triggering the memories, and their consequences, that had pushed the boy to a dangerous brink.
A horrific childhood experience had left Tim McGee with a deep-rooted, lifelong fear of maggots – an unfortunate trait for a federal agent who had to deal, with worrying regularity, with dead bodies.
He was a big boy now, of course, more than capable of handling that weakness in his own way, but – well, Gibbs still knew that, if just for a few more days, some subtle help would still be appreciated.
After carefully checking the crime scene, he'd tasked McGee with photographing its evidence – as happy as this tragedy allowed that there was blood, and lots of it, but no maggots. Definitely no maggots.
To his relief, Tim had nodded, grabbed his kit, and set to work with his familiar, encouraging thoroughness.
Every angle, every mark, every tiniest piece of potential evidence, had to be meticulously recorded. It took concentration, perseverance, an unwavering eye for detail – and an awful lot of evidence bags.
Gratefully stowing them in the truck, Tim then closed the door and started back to report to Gibbs – only to turn and stare instead, instantly and silently entranced, by the unmistakeable sound of clip-clopping hooves.
He'd seen them countless times before, of course. The US Park Police, out on their routine patrols. For every one of those times, he'd quietly envied the officers who'd been blessed with its privilege – keeping the regret of a lost dream, what might have been, inside the private 'if only' part of his mind.
He'd still gone into law enforcement, of course, and he'd never regret where that choice had taken him. But every time he saw one of these immaculately liveried horses, Tim still couldn't help but feel it – the frustration that he could have been living his childhood dream, on a gorgeous horse like this one.
He was a beauty. Big, too. To spellbound eyes, he was an easy seventeen-hander, maybe a little more. Certainly a lot bigger than Smoky, the sweet little Shetland he'd ridden all those years ago, when –
– no, McGee, don't go there. It's over. Let it go.
Shaking off those memories, Tim smiled instead as that gorgeous horse clopped gently up to him – dryly noting that Zane was sniffing his pockets for treats every bit as eagerly as Smoky had done.
"Sorry, boy, you won't find any apples in there," Tim chuckled, gently tousling Zane's ears – knowing, from a disdainful snort, that Zane wouldn't be happy until he'd found that secret candy-bar.
Laughing now against that ticklishly probing nose, Tim caved in, dutifully checking with Zane's laughing rider, before breaking it into three - unaware that he was being furtively, and fondly, watched.
Gladly letting his young rookie enjoy this moment of simple pleasure, Gibbs smiled too – quietly placing the dreams of a sweetly innocent little boy into the body of its adult counterpart.
Twenty years ago, on a day so eerily similar to this one, Tim McGee had gone for a pony ride – only to have that perfect day of innocent happiness shattered by Jay Clark's brutal cruelty.
He'd never gone riding since. The horrific traumas of that day twenty years ago just hadn't let him. But as he'd wistfully revealed to him the previous week, during that moonlit walk around the yard – given the chance, at the right time, and in the right company… yes, he'd love to go riding again.
It was Tim's birthday that weekend. As usual, no-one could decide on an appropriate present. But as he continued to watch Tim laugh and joke with Zane's rider, Gibbs grinned at the inspiration of an absolute doozie.
He was still grinning when Tony re-joined him - his senior agent's puzzled glance answered with a discreet nod towards the back of the truck.
Gibbs then glanced across at Tony. Tony glanced back at Gibbs. Then, as one, both of them grinned.
Tim McGee didn't know it, of course, unless he had a secret talent for mind-reading, but – yes, in silently gleeful conspiracy, whatever plans he'd had for his birthday had just been changed.
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There were, no doubt, far more exciting ways that he could be spending his birthday than this, but – well, as he studied the jigsaw of typewriter parts on his workbench, Tim McGee wasn't complaining. He spent so much time, so many hours, dodging sniper-fire and running away from car-bombs, that – yes, with his life under constant threat, spending his birthday in peaceful quiet was a welcome change.
Now, if he could just figure out why his T and M keys were still refusing to register, and – well, yes, finding out who was knocking so insistently at his door would be a real plus-point too.
Opening it, before whoever was outside hammered it down, Tim then stared in puzzled surprise – struggling to work out why Jethro Gibbs, and Tony DiNozzo, were both standing in his hallway.
It was Saturday. No, scratch that, it was just past eight on a bright, and beautiful, Saturday morning.
So why wasn't Gibbs working on his beloved boat? Why wasn't Tony with his latest ladyfriend? And why were both of them, dressed in casual shirts and jeans, grinning so smugly back at him?
They clearly knew something that he didn't, and – yeah, Tim McGee was now officially freaked out. When Tony DiNozzo grinned at you like this, you could safely bet where that grin would lead to. Mischief. Mayhem. Usually a trip to the nearest Emergency Room. And yet another silent vow of 'never again-' from his long suffering probie.
Still, at least Gibbs was on hand this time to keep this something, whatever it was, under head-slapping control – but not enough, it seemed, to stop Tony from sweeping into his apartment as if he owned the place.
"Up and at 'em, probie! Yeah, rise and shine, birthday boy, and… hey, no cake?!?"
Not giving Tim a chance to reply, Tony then grinned even wider through the inevitable punchline.
"Yeah, I guess it's kinda hard to find one big enough to carry all those candles-"
"In case you've forgotten, Tony, you're six years older than me," Tim reminded him dryly – enjoying Gibbs' huff of laughter as he brought his surrogate big brother sweetly back to earth.
"So with the size of cake you'd need for your candles, I'd imagine you get yours trucked in-"
Ouch.
That made it honours even, and Gibbs found it impossible not to laugh at the face Tony pulled in response. But as he knew, with a father's much tried patience, this game of brotherly insults wasn't over yet.
Hell, it hadn't even gotten started. As Gibbs resignedly knew, this was just the warm-up. And if anyone could rise to the main act – hell, yes, it would always be one Anthony DiNozzo.
"Hey, not nice, probie! Not nice-" he said at last, wagging a finger in brotherly admonishment, before he peevishly continued. "'specially as we gave up our Saturday, our chance to lie in, to came all the way out here to give you your present-"
Silence. Tim McGee gaped in surprise. And Gibbs had to bite his cheeks to contain his laughter. Now that was a counter-strike. Hell, not even Lazarus could come back from that.
"My - My present?" Tim echoed, all brotherly teasing falling back into a genuinely startled question. "B-But it's-… I'm – I mean, can't it wait until Monday?"
Shaking his head, Gibbs then grinned, with the closest thing to mischief that Tim had ever seen in him.
"Nope. 'sides, it would be kinda hard to get it through security-"
"And a real bitch to wrap-" Tony chipped in, grinning through a mouthful of shanghai'd cereal.
If they'd intended to throw Tim McGee for a complete loop, then they'd certainly managed it. That buzzcutted head was glancing between them so fast that he was running serious risk of whiplash. And while Tony was loving every second of it, then Gibbs was, at least, just a little more merciful – draping a fatherly arm across Tim's shoulders while offering his young agent a reassuring grin.
"It's your birthday today, Tim, and we're going to help you celebrate it with a little… trip-"
'A little… trip?!? For my birthday?!? Oh, boy-'
Keeping that 'uh-oh' thought wisely to himself, Tim settled instead for a puzzled, curious frown. A 'little trip' for Gibbs could mean anything from driving to Norfolk to flying clear across the country.
For all that, though, Tim had to admit he was intrigued, and on such a gloriously sunny day as this – well, yes, however much he loved his Remington, it would be a real shame to stay indoors.
Of course, being gently hand-steered towards your closet didn't give you much choice either – two broad grins at each shoulder warning him that the day's surprises were only just beginning.
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Tim McGee loved a mystery, but this latest puzzle… hell, it had left him completely stumped.
All he knew, for sure, was that Gibbs and Tony were taking him on a 'little trip' for his birthday. With a smiling assurance that he wouldn't need it, his wallet had been left, securely hidden, at home.
All he'd had to bring was his back-pack, a drinks bottle, and his most comfortable pair of boots. Other than that, the big surprise that they clearly had planned for him was still totally beyond him.
There weren't too many clues to help him either. Gibbs and Tony were both seeing to that. Every time he asked them where they were going, he was met with silent grins of mirrored mischief. And just to throw him off any possible scent, Gibbs made sure he took the ultra long, scenic route.
From Silver Spring, it was an easy, short drive into the Park's northeast side, but – well, not today. With a full tank of gas, Gibbs knew he could give Tim McGee an extra, carefully planned present. Well, the boy loved a mystery. It was only fitting to give him his very own magical mystery tour.
He couldn't make that tour too long, though, or too frustrating for Tim McGee's supply of patience. That placid sweet nature was legendary, almost elevating him to sainthood, but it still had its limits. So when he sensed that frustration deepening, Gibbs knew the teasing fun and games had to stop.
Besides, if they didn't get to their final destination on time – well, Gibbs knew that wasn't an option. Come hell, high water, or some subtly speeded up driving, they had to be there for one thirty.
So one last stop to pick up their lunches, and freshen their drinks. Then, at last, it was showtime.
To his relief, Tim was soon smiling again as they drove through Rock Creek's main entrance – any irritation that he may have felt soothed away by the peaceful, breathtaking beauty around him.
Or, Gibbs surmised, still fondly watching him, maybe the kid was just looking forward to his lunch. In fact, he could almost read Tim's thoughts as they pulled in to the Nature Centre's main car park.
'It's my birthday, it's lunchtime, and Gibbs is treating me. Yeah, I'm good for that-'
That was their first stop, of course, especially since Gibbs was ready for re-fuelling too. And despite munching through a bag of pretzels, Tony was, as ever, starvin' like Lee Marvin.
But as they carried their bags of supplies to a picnic bench, both knew that far better was still to come.
To their shared delight, the most brilliant, double-degree mind in DC was still completely clueless. Even when a pair of Park Police horses passed by their bench, Tim McGee still didn't suspect a thing.
Only when they left the Nature Centre did the penny start, with increasing excitement, to finally drop.
His first clue were the signs for the public stables, while the second, clinching piece of the puzzle – well, all three of them could smell it, long before the brickworked stable block came into view. Horses, leather, livery, and… yes, everything else that came with it. That smell was unmistakeable.
So was the smile on Tim McGee's face that grew, steadily, into a grin of pure, unashamed joy.
Loving the reaction which had been all he'd hoped for, Gibbs then gently squeezed Tim's shoulder.
"I think the time's right now, Tim," he said at last, subtly reminding him of that moonlit walk with a proud, fatherly smile.
"Hopefully, so's the company. Happy birthday, Tim-"
"Yeah, me too, kid-" Tony grinned, giving what hair there was on Tim's head a brotherly ruffle.
Totally stunned, Tim just stared at them – his voice, when he finally found it, an incredulous whisper.
"Th – This is my present, boss? You and me, and Tony, we're… I – I mean, we're going riding?"
Wishing he could bottle up that grin and sell it, Gibbs then returned it through a pitch-perfect drawl.
"Yup. So saddle up, kids, 'cos we're hittin' the trail-"
It was intriguing, not to mention damn entertaining, to see how each of those 'kids' reacted. One of them, of course, couldn't wait to get going, while the other… well, not quite so much.
As Tony had just discovered, a fully liveried eighteen hander was quite the force to be reckoned with – especially when Betsy caught the scent of pretzels, and decided they'd be a lot tastier than horsefeed.
"Hey!"
Trying, in vain, to fend a hopefully foraging nose out of his jeans, Tony then made another mistake – a pleading glance for help met with two 'tough luck' shrugs, and helpless laughter, but very little else.
Finally, if just to preserve Tony's threatened dignity, all three were up, settled in, and ready to ride – the glance that Tim cast towards Gibbs as they set out conveying a unique understanding between them.
This wasn't just a wonderful birthday surprise. It was the final, crucial part of his personal healing.
He was going on this ride, with the two people that he trusted, more than anyone else in the world. And when that ride was over, those demons of summer camp '85 would be defeated, once and for all.
A broad smile of pure, complete happiness was a promising sign that they were already in retreat.
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If Tim McGee ever gave up being a federal agent – well, Gibbs already knew what he could do instead. Get this boy on a dude ranch, taking tourists on 'Wild West' pioneer rides, and he'd be made for life.
His height, breadth, and those massive feet did him no favours sometimes, but up on horseback – yes, Gibbs noted, still proudly watching him, that klutzily clumsy kid was the living art of confidence. All he needed was a lasso, a Stetson, and a herd of grazing steers, and he'd be the John Wayne of his generation.
Of course, Tony would jump at that movie-lover's title, but – well, right now, that was kinda unlikely. While Tim McGee was trotting around as if he were born to it, the same couldn't be said for him.
As he'd found to his cost, a sulking horse deprived of its pretzels was not a happy mount to be on. Settling instead for a clump of grass, Betsy had been snatching away at it for almost ten minutes now – flattened ears, an unmoveable head, and a swishing tail confirming she had no intention of stopping.
She didn't care how much this selfish human kept tugging at her reins, she was not going to move.
For once in his life, Tony DiNozzo had met a woman who was completely immune to his charms. Whispering sweet nothings, soft pleadings and outright threats into her ears was getting him nowhere.
A brisk 'giddyap' had been met with the contemptuous snort that, just maybe, such a cliché deserved.
And it really didn't help when Tim galloped happily past him as if he were leading a cavalry charge.
Spitting out a mouthful of dust, Tony then yelled after him, in plaintively forlorn hope of an answer.
"Hey, McCuster! Cut that out!"
"Come and make me!" came the inevitable, gleefully smug reply as Tim shot by on the other side.
Promising revenge - assuming he ever got moving - he then glanced, in hopeful appeal, towards Gibbs.
"Hey, boss! Any chance of a jump start here?"
On his car maybe, but on this kind of horsepower? Hell, not even Jethro Gibbs was that brave. Besides, where on earth would you stick the leads?
Leaving that to his imagination, Gibbs just shrugged through helpless chuckles of laughter – hoping his magic touch with animals worked as well on stroppy horses as it did on escaping cats.
"Hey!"
Apparently it did. One last snort, just to make her point, and Betsy finally deigned to start moving.
She was still miffed, though. And in her unique, equine world, she had quite the sense of humour.
Some nice brisk trotting would make this pretzel-loving human see the error of his ways, and –
"-whooo-whoooooaaaaaa!!!!"
Oh, that was gonna hurt.
Watching his senior agent bounce uncomfortably past him, Gibbs then winced through a helpless smile. He'd better step in, now, to stop this before the DiNozzo family bloodline was cut prematurely short.
Cantering easily after him, Gibbs then leaned forward and carefully snagged one of Betsy's reins – a stern glare warning her that if she tried that little trick again, she'd have him to contend with.
To his amusement, and Tony's relief, she behaved herself impeccably for the rest of their ride – although Gibbs was sure that, as they headed back to the stables, Tony's voice was just a few octaves higher.
There was, of course, a far more serious side to their return to the yard than his playful imagination. Their grooms would be ready to scrub their horses down, and get them settled into their stalls, but – well, when he'd booked this ride, Gibbs had tagged on an extra request to a puzzled but thankfully agreeable stable-master.
If possible, they would scrub down their horses themselves – and that would include Tim McGee.
Luckily, Tim had enjoyed a much easier ride with Rocky than Tony had with the rebellious Betsy – so much so that he dismounted, stowed his stirrups, and led Rocky into his stall without a second thought, or any hesitation.
Instinctively following him, Tony felt himself stopped by a gentle hand, and an even gentler voice.
"No, Tony, not yet. Give him a minute-"
Nodding agreement, Tony settled instead for some belated, increasingly rueful bonding with Betsy. Yeah, like he couldn't have found out four hours ago that she loved a good scratch between her ears.
Finally though, prompted by another nudge on his shoulder, Gibbs and Tony entered the stables – their patience rewarded, beyond their hopes, by a broad smile and two bright, untroubled green eyes.
Happiness instead of tears shone out from them. And rarely, if ever, had two simple words conveyed so much meaning, so much significance, and so much gratitude.
"Thanks, guys-"
He could have said so much more, of course, but – well, Tim already knew he didn't need to. Instead, he met two pairs of proud eyes with a smile that told Gibbs, and Tony, all they wanted to know.
It was over. Tim McGee had beaten his demons, once and for all. Now he could get back to what he did best.
"Hey, Tony?"
"Probie?"
"You know, your John Wayne impression's always been great-"
"Why, thank you, probie!"
"But now-"
"Yeah?"
"With those big, bandy bow legs, it's even better-"
An all too brief pause, before round two zinged into action.
"Uh, probie?"
"Tony?"
"You did bring a spare pair of jeans, right?"
"No, I didn't think I'd need to. Why?"
"I kinda think ole Rocky has a taste for denim-"
"Wha-?"
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"Aw, jeez-"
Rolling his eyes, Gibbs then shook his head, still laughing as he led Duke back to his stall.
He'd take the scenic route to get them here, just to make the most of Tim McGee's very special day. But as that priceless bickering continued behind him, Gibbs made himself a ruefully heartfelt promise. Assuming that he didn't strangle them first, he'd be driving his kids home one hell of a lot faster.