Chapter 3 – Rough Landing
Special Agent Timothy McGee knew he was intelligent. It was not a fact he felt he needed to pride himself on; it was just who he was. Intelligent. Brilliant. Smart.
Brave, however, he was not, which is why he was very confused to find himself hurtling through a violent thunderstorm at a breathtaking speed towards a volatile sea with almost no plan to save himself from a grisly death. He had managed to close the clasps of his parachute seconds before the plane disintegrated around him, then saw Abby's unconscious form fly past him like a rag doll. A strange feeling swept aside any rational thought and in seconds he was barreling after her, his body pitched downwards to lessen the air's drag on his speed. He barely managed to dodge Ziva's descending form before a cloud surrounded him.
He closed in rapidly on Abby, and without thinking he spread his limbs as wide as possible and tried to level out around her. She drifted closer to him and he reached out and pulled her limp body to his chest in a half-hug, half-cradle.
"I've got you, Abby! I've got you! Don't worry!" he shouted over peals of thunder, but got no response. Suddenly, they were out of the cloud. The ocean was approaching rapidly.
Tim pushed aside his gentlemanly sense of propriety and draped Abby's arms around his neck, then wrapped his legs around her body. He knew there was a chance that the force of the parachute opening could rip her from his grasp, and he was determined not to let her go now. He yanked the rip cord.
In a burst, the chute sprung from his pack and spread across the sky. Though he steeled his body for the chute's pull, the sudden lurch combined with Abby's weight conspired to set his muscles on fire. He gritted his teeth and demanded every fiber of his being to stay strong for the woman in his arms.
A dark, ominous shape slowly rose out of the darkness ahead. A gust of wind pushed him swiftly towards the jagged spire, its massive form slowly overtaking his view. His eyes traced over the edges of the looming form, and he noticed that it almost looked to have a layer of rough fur all across its base. As they gradually drifted closer, Tim suddenly realized that he was looking at a cliff face, with a thick bramble of vegetation growing on top. A few seconds later, he was skidding along the edge of the cliff, running as fast as he could with Abby in his arms. He tried to stop himself, but his feet dragged and slipped over the smooth rock as the parachute pulled him rapidly close to the other side of the cliff.
He dropped to his knees and quickly laid Abby down on the solid ground, then clutched frantically at the straps that were pulling him to certain doom. Wordlessly blessing Gibbs for rule number 9, he snatched his knife from his belt clip and cut at the straps. His body rolled helplessly closer to the gaping abyss, mere inches from certain death. With a final stroke, the parachute broke free and was quickly swallowed up by the thunderstorm. His heart pounding in his ears, Tim slowly sat up and looked over the edge to see how far down he would have fallen. A wave of vertigo washed over him as he saw the tiny trees dotting the ground below.
After getting his bearings again, Tim crawled away from the edge and trudged slowly to where Abby lay. He pulled his now-ruined jacket from his shoulders and draped it over her, then slumped his body around her and fell asleep.
* * *
Gibbs always seemed to surprise her. Director Jenny Shepard lifted her head from its resting place on the ex-marine's chest and tried to stifle a yawn. Compared to some of the flight drops she had made during her time as a field agent, the parachute down had been uneventful. A gnawing sense of fear weighed on her, but she tried to brush off the possibility that she had just lost four agents as a premature conclusion. They were Gibbs' team, and she knew without a doubt that they inherited some of his resourcefulness and strength. At least, she told herself that.
She nudged him. "I need to know something."
Gibbs cracked an eyelid, but did not raise his half-submerged head from the water. How he managed to dead man's float in the middle of the Pacific was beyond her. Thankfully, he served particularly well as a makeshift life preserver in this condition.
"And what is that?" he replied with a slight smile.
"They've been trained for something like this, right? You wouldn't let them work with you this long without being prepared for God knows what."
He grinned even wider: "Nope."
"What do you mean no? Jethro, you can't tell me Dinozzo hasn't at least taken the NCIS wilderness course by now? That's a mandatory class!"
"We haven't been able to get around to it, Jen" he said, somewhat annoyed.
Jenny pushed a stray strand of her hair from her eyes and groaned bitterly. She spoke softly.
"Jethro, I'm afraid they're dead."
He abruptly pitched forward, splashing water all over her. He put his hand to her chin and looked sternly into her eyes. "They'll be fine, Jenny. I didn't have to train them; they know how to take care of themselves."
Jenny could not shake her doubts. She swam a small circle around Gibbs and stared off into the horizon. Her next words caught him off guard: "Gibbs, I think I see land."