Author's Note: NCIS belongs to CBS and Donald Belisarius. I am making no money off this.
This story contains themes and descriptions of child abuse and mental illness.
Chapter 2
"Please, think about what you're doing." Tim moved so he was standing directly over the injured boy. "You have two other children outside. Do you really want to do this?"
She looked toward the door, still holding the gun on him. "Should've smothered those little bastards the day I got home from the hospital. Fat little shits are worse than locusts."
He watched her gun hand. "Listen to me. If you really feel that way, we can talk to child services about this. They can find someone to take them off your hands for a while; you don't have to do anythi-."
The woman snapped her head around at him; there was nothing recognizably human left in her eyes. "Those children belong to me! I pushed them out; I can do whatever I want with them! They're mine! I own them!"
"Ma'am, if you don't put down the weapon, I'll have to hurt you." He took a deep breath to keep his voice from shaking. "You need help, and your son needs an ambulance."
"Fuck you!" She raised the gun toward his head, finger twitching on the trigger. "Fuck y-."
One shot was all it took. Tim watched her stare down at the blood welling from her chest in disbelief. "I'm sorry."
"Fucking pigs." Her knees buckled and she fell to the floor. She was dead before she landed.
"POLICE, DROP YOUR WEAPON!"
Tim gently laid his gun down next to him and put his hands up. "I'm Agent Timothy McGee from NCIS, I called this in. My badge and ID are in my inner jacket pocket on the right side."
As the officers swarmed the apartment with paramedics, Tim wandered over to the play park to find the other two children. He stood watching the little girl trying to tie Jethro's leash into a bow around his neck. The boy was sitting on one of the swings, just staring at the ground; there was vomit near his feet.
"Hi," he said, walking over.
The girl looked up at him and smiled; she had no front teeth. "You doggy real nithe, mister. Sank you for lettin' me play wif him."
"I…" Tim shook his head. "I-I need you two to come over to the apartment now."
The boy sniffled a little bit. "Is mama okay?"
"She's been…taken away by the police."
"Mommy inn't bad; she jus' get all mean a'cause she don' take her pill!" the girl cried, getting up to run over. "She gotta take her pill an' she be all fine again!"
Tim caught her around the waist before she could get past him. "I'm sorry."
"Please don't take us back there!" The boy ran over and hugged his legs tight. "I don't wanna go home!"
Tim watched as an ambulance drove away with the oldest son. The two smaller children wouldn't let go of him. They would become hysterical if anyone tried to pry them away, so the Child Services team had to wait around.
The lead officer on the scene had taken his statement and his gun for exclusionary purposes.
He flinched when somebody put a hand on his shoulder.
"You okay, McGee?" Gibbs asked, squatting down to face his junior agent.
"No."
"Need to talk about it?"
Tim shook his head. "It's all still…it's too much right now."
Special Agents Anthony DiNozzo and Ziva David, Tim's partners, watched from the sedan as their co-worker sat huddled with two small children on the curb. They were snuggled into his sides and would scream, kick, cling and claw at anyone who tried to get them away from him.
"God, what the fuck did Probie walk into?"
Ziva didn't say anything. She couldn't.
Leroy Jethro Gibbs, their team leader, sat in the front of the car and argued with someone over his cell phone. He snapped it shut. "Get processing, you two. Turns out the mother is the wife of a Petty Officer. This crime scene's our jurisdiction now."
"Where's the father?" Tony asked, instantly getting to business.
"Afghanistan. No radio contact."
"Shit."
"Yeah, and we're babysitters until he gets home."
Ziva glanced at McGee. "What about-"
"He's a material witness, he's not to be involved in the investigation," Gibbs cut her off. "Besides, he's got enough on his plate for a while."