****
Gibbs slowed as he turned down another dirt road. According to Tony, the Archer Farm lay at the end. The sun sat low in the sky, cutting deep shadows beneath the trees. The road looked abandoned. Just as he was beginning to think Tony had gotten the directions wrong, the trees lining the road opened up into an old home place. Bushes and hedges that had been allowed to grow unchecked nearly overran the yard and held the house like a huge clenched fist all along the foundation. White paint, now faded, thinned to gray in spots.
Gibbs pulled to a stop beside an old Ford truck. He got out of his car quickly after cutting the engine. Staying low, gun in hand, he shifted around the car and hurried to the truck. The tailgate was down. An old tarp hung off the edge. The dry, loose dirt around the vehicle appeared trampled and stirred, not by wind, but by boot scuffs and footprints.
Cautiously, Gibbs moved toward the house. Other than the truck, he couldn't see any sign that anyone had been here recently. The porch creaked as he walked across it to look inside a window. A fireplace sat dusty and abandoned along one wall. The room was bare, but something caught his eye. Gibbs flattened himself against the wall and looked closer. Faint sunlight glinted off a knife left on the floor. Some coils of rope lay stacked haphazard nearby, but there was no sign of Michael Archer. He took his phone out and opened it, but immediately realized he had no signal. He put the phone away.
Leaving the porch, Gibbs walked carefully around the perimeter of the house. A gray structure rose in the near distance. Keeping low, Gibbs made his way to the barn. The hair on the back of his neck rose. He froze and listened. He felt eyes on him, but he couldn't locate the source. Moving as quickly as he could, he ducked lower and stepped inside the barn.
Sunlight pierced slanted swords of light through gaps in the barn wall, laying strips across the form kneeling in the center of the open area. Gibbs froze, overcome for an instant with the vision before him. He'd been witness to the results of men's depravity, and the brutal savagery one person could do to another human being for most of his adult life; whether in war or in law enforcement, but to see cruelty visited on a friend tripled the grief nearly beyond what he could bare.
He swallowed hard, forcing bitter bile back down his throat. Tucking his gun into his belt, he pulled out his knife and hurried toward Tim. Rough rope, tied around McGee's wrists, held his arms above his head. Gibbs dropped to one knee, wrapped an arm around McGee's waist, and reached up with his knife to sever the rope. McGee crumbled, but Gibbs caught him and lowered him gently to the floor. Tim's body folded as loosely as a jointed puppet.
McGee's clothes had been removed, leaving him dressed only in a light T-shirt and boxer shorts. Gibbs looked around briefly, hoping to spot something, but the barn seemed to be empty other than old tools and farming equipment. He brought his attention back to Tim just in time to see the younger man's eyes blink, and then squint open.
"McGee – Tim."
Tim surged up from the ground, or at least, tried to. He curled up and his face folded in pain.
"Easy, take it easy, now."
Rather than watch him struggle, Gibbs caught Tim and helped him up. McGee sagged against him, breath coming in short, shallow gasps. "Ar-Archer --"
Gibbs made use of his knife and cut the ropes around Tim's wrists. "I couldn't find him. Archer, Sr. just died. Heart attack." Being careful not to take away Tim's support, Gibbs twisted and started cutting away the ropes around McGee's ankles. "Before he died, he told me where his son took you." Finished, he slipped his knife back into his pocket. "How bad are you hurt?"
Tim swallowed and closed his eyes. Gibbs grasped his jaw gently and turned his head, studying the bruising and shadowing along his face. Most of the dried blood patterns came from a cut just above one eyebrow, and his nose.
"I'll live."
Gibbs couldn't help it. A tired laugh gushed airy out of his mouth. He watched Tim's lips quirk in a little smile and lightly patted his face. "I think you're right. Let's get to the car before Archer comes back to check on you. Can you stand?"
McGee nodded. He wrapped an arm around himself and grasped Gibbs' shoulder with his other hand. "Just need a little – help."
Gibbs rose, then held still when McGee groaned and leaned against him. Urgency pulled his nerves tight, but he bit down on the need to tell McGee to hurry.
A bullet pinged off an old tractor not two feet away just as the echoing shot blasted the air around them. Gibbs ducked and pulled McGee down. Instead of instructing, he just picked the direction and ran, pulling McGee with him. They stumbled behind a pile of equipment and took cover. Gibbs let go of McGee and brought his gun up to take aim. Nothing moved; nothing stirred. Maybe this boy needed a little encouragement.
"Give it up, Archer." Gibbs voice echoed loud in the barn's stillness. "You've kidnapped a federal agent. There's nowhere for you to run."
"You've got that backwards."
Gibbs squinted, trying to pinpoint Archer's location. Sound bounced around inside the building like a rubber ball, never landing in just one spot.
"You're the one with nowhere to run. Your agent's not going to make it far, and you can't carry him. Toss your gun out where I can see it and come on out."
Archer kept talking, but Gibbs was no longer listening. He'd already weighed his options and knew what to do. By his calculations, Tony and Ziva should arrive at any minute. All he and McGee had to do was keep out of Archer's hands until then.
Tapping McGee on the shoulder, Gibbs pointed toward a back exit. "Not going to happen, Archer! My backup's on its way and you're going to be outnumbered ten to one. Give it up now before this gets ugly." Not waiting to hear Archer's reply, Gibbs turned to McGee and whispered quietly, "Ready to get out of here?" McGee nodded. "Stay low and keep next to me." Wrapping one arm around McGee for support, Gibbs lead the way out.
***
