Rifiuto: Non Miriena
Thanks to Reader and JonnyP86 for reviewing 1.
He couldn't believe his eyes, yet all he could do was drop the cup and rush towards the elevator. Kate looked up, in time to see the plane explode, and she was soon hot on Tim's heels, Gibbs following behind. Tim was the first of the NCIS agents to make it outside, and the only thing he could think, for some odd reason, as he gazed upon the carnage, the wreckage of Flight 321, was of the World Trade Center as it, engulfed in smoke and flames, imploded in on itself and soon covered downtown Manhattan in dust, debris and atomized human.
As he rushed out towards the burning, broken remnants of the plane, he was taken back to that long ago day two years ago, when he'd watched the flight he was supposed to board for California, to see his parents- Flight Eleven- slam into the North Tower. He'd overslept and missed his flight, and had spent the next twelve hours at Ground Zero, trying to help get people out. As he raced through the Naval Yard, screaming directions and orders, he could feel the heat of the flames and smell the acrid rubber that was jet fuel.
It dragged him back towards that bright Tuesday morning; he lost a cousin, trapped in Windows on the World. Two years younger than he, Taylor had been waitressing to put herself through school; she wanted to become an injury attorney, and that dream had been cruelly ripped from her as the North Tower gave way under the heat and smoke and folded upon itself. He had lost a childhood friend, aboard Flight Seventy-Seven, that slammed into the Pentagon, and another one aboard Flight Ninety-Three; it was that image, that flashed before his mind as he rushed to help.
There wasn't much anyone could do, but put out the fire and search for survivors. Magazines, carry-ons, books, glasses, all lay scattered about, melted, burning or smoldering in the ruble. As he rushed towards the burning rubble, he could only vaguely hear the shouts of his teammates, but he ignored them, green gaze scanning for the sight of anyone who survived.
As he moved closer towards the smoldering back of the plane, something caught his foot, and he turned back. It took a moment for him to decipher what was holding onto him; he could only see the blackened and broken flesh, and then he found himself staring into frightened dark eyes. "P... pl... pleas..." Quickly, Tim knelt down, removing what he now saw was a hand from his shoe, and reaching down to check the pulse.
Minutes passed in eerie silence around him, much like it had that bright, beautiful Tuesday morning. He'd received Taylor's last message on his cell hours later when the lines weren't jammed- he kept it on his iPod and played it on the anniversary in remembrance of her- and though he'd been able to help get other people out of the towers- as many as humanly possible- he hadn't been able to save Taylor. She had been too high up, trapped within the smoke and heat above the impact zone, and Tim had been powerless to protect her, like he'd always done.
Taylor was the reason he'd transferred from the L.A. offices to first Norfolk, and then to D.C., after a year in Virginia. If he were closer to New York and D.C., like he had been that day, then maybe he could make up for the guilt he felt at Taylor's death. He turned his gaze back to the young girl- no, the young woman- trapped beneath the wreckage. He struggled, accepting the other agents that came to help get her out; pinned beneath a portion of the plane, they worked with vigor to free her from the plane that could be her deathbed. Once she was free, Tim, who'd been gently guiding her burned, broken and damaged and strapped body from the plane- for she was still residing in the seat, like so many of them had been- he then worked to cut the straps from her small figure, before scooping her up in his arms and rushing from the crash site.
"McGee!" He looked up as Gibbs and Kate rushed to him, each from separate areas of the crash site, as they'd searched for survivors. "Oh God!" Kate quickly crossed herself as Tim tightened his hold on the girl.
"Get her to the ambulance, McGee!" But Gibbs words didn't even reach the Senior agent's ears; he'd already rushed to the waiting ambulance, handing her over.
"How can this happen, Gibbs?" Kate asked, unable to take her eyes off the carnage of the plane as it burned and died in the Navy Yard. "What would cause-"
"Any number of things, Kate." He replied, turning as Ducky joined them, having rushed back into NCIS to bring out more gurneys. The M.E. sighed.
"We shall have a full autopsy tonight, Jethro. I pray that they went quickly and felt no pain." Gibbs nodded silently and turned back, watching as Tim climbed into the ambulance and the doors shut behind him before the vehicle took off, screaming down the road.
After explaining the situation, though there was no need for it, for the EMTs had arrived not long after the crash was reported and had seen the destruction done, Tim took a seat beside the young woman, gripping her hand as they worked to save her. "You're going to be okay, I promise. You're going to make it, you hear me? You're going to be okay."
"Did you see any other survivors, Agent McGee?" He shook his head, never removing his gaze from the young woman being worked on. Her dark eyes held fear, and he tried to whisk it away with a soft smile.
"My name is Timothy McGee. I'm an agent with the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. Your plane crashed in the Navy Yard outside the NCIS Headquarters. We're taking you to Bethesda Memorial; they're going to take good care of you, okay? We're all going to take good care of you." He gave her another smile as she weakly squeezed his hand in response.
