A/N - thanks for the reviews. Still lots of Tim in this chapter - and some other stuff as well!

Part 9

Getting absorbed in a case had helped, it had given Gibbs some other outlet for his bad mood and McGee was profoundly grateful for the respite.

But the case wasn't enough to rescue him from his colleagues and whenever Gibbs was out of sight for more than 60 seconds he had endured a whole variety of interrogation techniques as they tried to find out what was going on.

It was mostly Tony, who was fascinated by the beautiful woman who had shown up to speak to McGee and by Gibbs' anger towards him. DiNozzo's investigative instincts told him the two were connected and he was determined to find out how.

Ziva was more subtle in her questioning, though she scarcely needed to press her point since they both knew she could snap him into tiny pieces without as much as breaking a nail – if she chose to. But she was no more successful than Tony in getting him to talk and at least she seemed amused at her failure – while Tony was only motivated to try harder.

With the case wrapped up and Gibbs telling them to get on with the paperwork, McGee was looking forward to finishing for the day and enjoying what remained of his weekend. He applied himself to his report with diligence – only stopping when his cell phone rang.

"Agent McGee – this is Cynthia Somers, I'm calling on behalf of Assistant Director Shepard. She asked me to contact you because she is going to have to reschedule your coffee date tomorrow."

"Is everything all right?" He was surprised that Jenny hadn't called him herself and when the woman on the other end of the line hesitated for a fraction of a second too long he had his answer. "Has something happened?"

"I'm sorry, I'm not at liberty to discuss that – but I am sure AD Shepard will call you herself as soon as she can." OK, so she was definitely alive – it wasn't much, but he'd go with that until someone told him something better – preferably the woman herself.

He glanced down at his computer, his fingers itching to go to work and find out for himself. But then he looked around him – his phone conversation had already roused the attention of Tony and Ziva and as far as he knew Gibbs was still in the building. If he was going to find out what had happened to Jenny, he needed a smaller audience.

"I'm still mad at you." Abby said – barring the way to her computers. They hadn't spoken much since he had brought Jenny to the lab. He had meant to come down and explain but somehow it had been easier to stay out of her way, because justifying his friendship with Jenny wasn't something he was prepared to do; not even to Abby.

"Abs, please. I need the computers – something happened to Jenny and the FBI aren't going to tell me anything, I need to find out for myself."

"You have your own computer – you don't need mine."

"I can't do this upstairs with Tony and Ziva looking over my shoulder and Gibbs bound to turn up as soon as I start looking." Reflexively he glanced over his shoulder – half expecting Gibbs to show up here, summoned by the sound of his name and what Abby called his 'spidy senses'.

"Well, I didn't like her. You've never mentioned her before; I didn't even know you knew anyone who worked at the FBI. I don't like it when you keep secrets Timmy." He sighed, not wanting to spend precious time telling her when he could be helping Jenny, but seeing no real alternative.

"You won't believe me when I tell you how we met." To her credit Abby listened to the story without interrupting once – though her eyes went wide as his tale unfolded.

"That was so sweet of her," she breathed at the end. "She's amazing." Of course McGee tended to agree and because it was Abby, who'd done a complete reversal in a few minutes with her own blend of charm, he couldn't help but share the rest. She practically bounced up and down as he told her how he'd realised that Jenny would be perfect for Gibbs, that he'd found a reason to introduce them and things had seemed to be going well – until everything fell apart.

"You have to fix this," Abby said, hugging him fiercely, "I know you can."

There was no longer any question about her helping him, or denying him access to her precious computers. They worked side by side and there was a security in the familiarity of their collaboration. It wasn't quite enough to keep his fears at bay – but it helped.

They didn't have to look too hard, or bend too many laws before they found it. Abby gasped sharply as the information scrolled across the screen. "Oh no," McGee said as he read the same reports.

***

Fornell's house seemed to have been taken over by small girls; they were wearing pyjamas, playing with each other's hair and talking and giggling a lot. Gibbs recognised the signs.

"Sleepover party?" He asked as Fornell answered the front door.

"I promised Emily – Diane's back on Monday." He couldn't decide whether a house full of 8 year olds was a good idea under the circumstances. Fornell didn't look much better than he had in the hospital.

"You OK?"

Tobias paused and looked up at him. "You haven't heard," he responded flatly.

"Heard what?"

"I'll put the DVD on, quiet the girls down – then fill you in. The alcohol is in the kitchen."

"I thought you weren't supposed to be drinking," Fornell snorted, clearly not wanting to even dignify that with an answer.

"When I tell you, you'll understand," was all he said.

Agent Sachs was in the kitchen, head buried in his hands and a couple of empty bottles of beer on the table around him. He seemed a strange choice to help supervise a sleepover and he didn't look any happier than Fornell.

"She was right," Tobias said, coming into the room behind him and reaching for a glass, "she was right and we were wrong, we were all wrong."

Gibbs still had no idea what he was talking about – but his gut twisted and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up, because there was only possible 'she' in this context. "What happened?" The two FBI agents exchanged a look – but it was Fornell who answered him.

"This afternoon six FBI agents were arrested on charges of corruption, bribery, theft, handling stolen property and I'm sure I missed a few other things in there as well. The agent's in question were respected, most of them had been with the agency for years and no one had any idea they'd been taking bribes to make evidence go away. Well, someone suspected; saw a pattern in a series of unsolved cases that everyone else missed. But unfortunately most of the rest of the agency believed Assistant Director Shepard was pursuing a personal vendetta."

"Tobias?" He knew that wasn't everything, could see it in the eyes of both of the men.

"She got warrants this afternoon; but the ringleaders were warned, someone tipped them off."

"He means I tipped them off," Sachs said. "I thought, we all thought, she was crazy; that she'd dug up some flimsy piece of evidence that wouldn't even make it to court. I mentioned the warrants to another agent; I trained with him for Gods sake. Turns out he mentioned it to an agent he'd been working with – who'd been paying him to pass me information. I didn't know that until it was too late."

"They've been feeding us misinformation for weeks," Fornell said gloomily, "feeding our dislike of her, my dislike of her."

"What happened?"

Fornell grimaced, but Gibbs didn't care about his discomfort right now and he continued to look at Fornell, until he got his answer. "For some reason, there weren't any other agents available when she went to make the arrests."

"Tell me you didn't…?"

"I didn't know, I swear it." Gibbs believed him – but it didn't matter that Fornell had been on sick leave at the time. The damage had been done, others had followed his lead. The agents Jenny had gone to arrest had been pre-warned that she was coming and, though they hadn't known news of the arrests had been leaked, her colleagues had 'arranged' for there to be a limited team to go with her to make them. He sucked in a breath, refusing to ask if she had made it out alive, telling himself he'd know if she hadn't.

"Is she OK?"

It was Sacks who answered his question. "Bullet grazed her shoulder, one of her team got hit in the stomach – he'll pull through. They were in a diner full of civilians, we were lucky it wasn't worse."

"Luck had nothing to do with it," Fornell said morosely, "she's good – she's damn good. And Dean, the ringleader – he wanted her to kill him; didn't leave her a choice. Took all of 5 minutes to rule the shooting as good."

Gibbs wasn't the most imaginative of men, but it didn't take a lot of imagination to work out what it must have been like for Jenny these last weeks. Her own agency had turned against her, her reputation had been tarnished by rumours and lies. No one had been prepared to help her and today she had walked into a situation that could have killed her. And all she had done was try to root out corruption. No wonder she had not wanted to tell anyone who she was.

He remembered some of the things he had said to her and was suddenly very grateful that McGee was too loyal and too stubborn to abandon a friend. At least one of them had believed in her.

"I'll have that drink now," he said pulling out a chair and slumping onto it – certain that his expression was every bit as morose as his companions. "Anyone tried to talk to her?"

"You think she'd take my calls?" Fornell asked, Gibbs shrugged in response; he doubted she'd want to talk to him either.

***

Jenny Shepard felt the twinge in her shoulder as she reached for a file and ignored it, telling herself ruthlessly that she'd had worse injuries over the years and that she had far more important things to worry about right now. And while she also know that it was an evasion, a way to avoid having to think about what had happened, what she'd been forced to do, then it least was one with more than a hint of truth about it.

The agency was in full damage control mode and since she was responsible, at least in part, for that damage she was also expected to play her part in controlling it. But of course that wasn't how it was being spun.

Her superiors had suddenly decided that she was bold and brave – character traits that just days ago they had seemed to view as vices were new being lauded as virtues. She'd already been dragged in front of a press conference and hailed as an example of all that was right about law enforcement. She had no doubt that such attention would make those colleagues who believed she had only been promoted because of how she looked on screen very unhappy.

But over the last few weeks she had got used to ignoring what people said about her – or at least pretending that she didn't care. The lesson had been a salient one; she wasn't foolish enough to believe that it was over now – just because she had made some arrests. There was no glory in what she had exposed, only shame and the sense that they were all sullied by association.

She could feel the shadows – knew that in darkness, perhaps only in darkness, she would question her decisions and actions. But not yet – she wasn't ready for the darkness yet.

"Ma'am," a soft tap at the door disturbed her reverie which, given the spiralling nature of her thoughts was probably just as well.

"Yes Cynthia?" The young woman looked nervous and uncomfortable – but then she'd only started work a week ago. In that time she had proved herself to be both calm and efficient which was definitely a good thing, since there had been a lot to be calm and efficient about. Given that she had pretty much walked into a firestorm Jenny supposed she couldn't blame her new assistant for wondering what on earth she had signed up for.

"Agent McGee is downstairs. He doesn't have clearance to come up and he doesn't have an appointment. But he's insisting on seeing you and since you asked me to call him earlier I thought…" Jenny could only imagine what she thought – especially considering some of the rumours that had been flying around. "I don't listen to gossip ma'am."

"That's good to know," the two women exchanged a look, a brief moment of understanding that was as close to normalcy as Jen had got all day.

"What shall I do about Agent McGee?" Jenny smiled – knowing that Tim would not leave easily; warmed by the knowledge that someone cared enough to come to ask if she was all right.

"Hey," McGee paused in the doorway of her office, reassured that she was safely behind her desk rather than in a hospital bed, or worse. But he knew it wasn't that simple.

"It's good to see you," she said simply and that did make him feel better.

"I was going to say that to you," he said, stepping further into the office. Up close he could see that she looked pale, that there were shadows under her eyes that could not possibly have been caused by the day's events.

"So, did you come to see the view from my window?" She queried, "believe me – it's nothing special."

"Actually, I thought I might drive you home – maybe persuade you to eat some food?" She started to shake her head, not willing to concede how tired she was, but he wasn't easily dissuaded. "You need to get some rest Jenny."

"Are you looking after me?"

"Trying to," he confirmed, reaching for the coat, slipping it off the hanger and holding it out to her.

If it had been anyone else she would have told them she could tough it out, that she'd been through far worse and that she had planned to sleep on the couch in her office. But it wasn't so easy to brush off a friend. So she nodded and pushed herself to her feet, letting him drape the coat over her shoulders as she collected her belongings.

"I am under instructions from Abby to give you a hug," he said as she switched off the light in the office and walked with him towards the elevators. "But I am not sure how badly your shoulder is injured – so, I'll give it a miss right now."

"It's only a scratch. Why does Abby want you to hug me? I thought she didn't like me."

"Change of heart – it's very Abby. You'll get used to it."

"I'll take your word for that." He stayed close, but not too close – sensing that she welcomed his presence, but that she wasn't ready to relax her defences.

He wanted to ask her about what had happened, coax her to talk about it, but he knew he lacked the words. He wasn't sure what use it was to be a writer if he couldn't find a way to get her to tell this story. But then he realised that it wasn't about him, it didn't matter if he couldn't help her, as long as there was someone who could.

***

Gibbs ran his hands over the hull of the boat – he wasn't working on her tonight, he was just pottering really, using the familiarity as a way to settle his scattered thoughts.

He wasn't surprised at the sound of hesitant footsteps above him, or the burst of determination that brought the same footsteps and their owner down the stairs into the basement. He didn't need to look around to know the identity of his guest – he'd half been expecting him.

"How is she?" He asked, before McGee could even open his mouth. There didn't seem to be much point in pretending not to know what this was about; who this was about.

"She isn't talking about it – not to me anyway and I didn't want to push her." Gibbs nodded, reaching for a glass of bourbon and taking a long swallow. He wasn't surprised that Jenny didn't want to discuss this, suspected she'd prefer to deal with her demons in her own way. But as far as he could tell she'd had to deal with far too much on her own lately.

He put the glass down and leisurely reached for a cloth, wiping his hands and then brushing past McGee as he made his way upstairs. From the top of the stairs he looked back, "you coming?" he asked.

TBC