Disclaimer: same as Chapter 1.

Author's notes:

- A shorter chapter this week… Sorry, but I've caught a bad cold! :'-(

- In petto means 'in one's chest' or 'secretly' in Italian.

- The 2004 Indian Ocean earthquake and tsunami which occurred on December 26, 2004, claimed 227,898 human lives worldwide.

- To Zik: I'm glad you liked the description of the wreckage! ;-)

- To None: Ziva is too professional to rip Tony apart with her bare hands, and a major drama will temporarily prevent Vance from showing Tony the door (hint hint!)

- To Ollie260211: thank you very much!

- To Earthdragon: here's some Tim in this chapter, and a lot more in the future chapters. Hope you'll like it!

- To TAD: enthusiastic, are you? xD


Chapter 49: A destruction

"Ziva…"

"Don't talk to me, Gibbs."

"Ziva!"

"I said, 'Don't talk to me'!" exclaimed the young woman, standing in front of one of her flat's windows.

Gibbs, seated on the sofa, sighed heavily and rubbed at his eyes: after the Autopsy room had been thoroughly wrecked by a very pissed-off, irate, wrathful ex-Mossad officer, he had escorted the said officer out of the NCIS building, keeping her under a (relative) control in order to avoid embarrassing images to be recorded by the security cameras in the corridors. Thanking his lucky stars that all the other agents in the bullpen had gone home, Gibbs had pressed the elevator's button and thrown Ziva inside without ceremony, just before stepping inside the cabin as well and pressing on the garage's button. Then they had gone to the underground parking and Gibbs had driven Ziva to her flat: the woman was in a state of barely-contained rage and, with her less-than-careful driving skills, it would have been a recipe for disaster to let her roam in the streets of DC in her car.

During the whole trip, Ziva had not said a word; her dark eyes had been phosphorescent with rage and she was clenching and unclenching her fingers as if she wanted to wrap them around Tony's throat and squeeze it like an orange. Gibbs also had trouble finding his words: the confrontation at Ducky's lair had been painful, not only for his Senior Agent but for the rest of the team as well. Tony had admitted having assaulted Sam and made a mockery of Vance's orders to have an illegal conversation with Tim, who was in one of the most dangerous warzones in the world… just to 'tease' him!

Well, it was the official version, anyway, but Gibbs knew there was more than met the eye. Tony was a clown and a prankster, no arguments there but he loved his career at NCIS too much to flush it down the toilets – and risking the ire of Volcano Vance – for something as harebrained as teasing a colleague on a secret mission. Not to forget his current probation status… One whisper of what had happened at MTAC and the review board would not have other options than to ask for Tony's sacking and it would have utterly destroyed the young man.

Speaking of destruction… Gibbs would never have imagined such a slim-looking woman could make a rampage of this scale! Ziva often joked about being able to dismember people with paper clips or turning a paperweight into a multi-function lethal weapon, but the Team Leader had thought those declarations being only exaggerations to measure up with Tony's canards in the bullpen. Of course, he was aware of Ziva's skills but sometimes, they sounded so extraordinary that it was hard to believe them without asking for a little demonstration.

Well, there had been a demonstration, all right! The Autopsy room looked like it had fallen victim of the 2004 Boxing Day tsunami and doubtless Vance would ask for explanations after receiving demands for new computers, printers and medical gear. Another pleasant meeting in the Director's office ahead…

Gibbs had driven Ziva to her building and then, unable to leave her on her own in such an angry state, he had escorted the young woman to her apartment. Ziva had stepped inside as soon as the door's lock had been opened, uncaring about the older man right behind her. After a slight moment of hesitation, Gibbs had entered the flat as well: they might have a conversation right away, when it was still time to make amends, instead of letting the situation rot to the point of going to work would become unbearable, signing the death warrant of Team Gibbs.

But talking with someone was kind of hard when the said person was turning a deaf ear to his peace attempts.

"Ziva…"

"I'm not through destroying, Gibbs. Maybe I should have a go with you?"

"Agent David, you're going too far!" said the silver-haired man sharply with his best 'Super-Boss' tone. "I understand you're angry at DiNozzo but it's not a reason to threaten your senior officer. I'm still the leader of this team and what I say, goes. Is that clear?"

Ziva turned her livid face towards Gibbs and said in a slow, scathing voice: "Glass-clear, Sir."

The silver-haired man decided to cut his agent a break, and he repressed the urge to snort at the idiomatic mistake. More pressing matters were at hand and he had to be sure Ziva would accept to keep her anger under control, long enough for repairing the damages to both Tony and the Autopsy room.

"Good. Now, David, I'm quite aware that you have all the reasons in the world to hate Tony's guts – heck, I'm not proud of him for the moment. What he did was completely puerile, unworthy of an experienced Senior Agent and, what's worse, he did it on purpose just to get another occasion to humiliate Tim."

"Yes, well we all know that dragging Tim in the mud is one of Tony's favorite pastimes, isn't it?" asked Ziva, her eyes boring holes at the wall behind Gibbs. "Along with boasting about his undeserved title of Senior Agent and pretending to be the reincarnation of Casanova: Tony wouldn't have lasted one day at Mossad with such an attitude, I'm telling you!"

"Neither would have he in the Marines… Sometimes I wonder how he managed to survive all these years before entering NCIS."

"The answer's simple, Gibbs: Tony wouldn't have survived without you keeping him on the straight and 'barrow'; only your training and attitude has managed to keep Tony away from trouble but, since Tim left, he seemed resolute to sabotage his career – and ours – at all costs!"

"But it's not going to happen, now, is it?" asked the older man while getting on his feet. "Tony may suffer from a bout of temporary insanity for the moment, but I am certain that the trashing you've given him plus a few head-slaps of my own will make him realize his mistakes pretty soon."

"With all due respect, you're overrating your head-slaps, Gibbs. They have proved to be completely inefficient when it comes to Tony and Abby. I thought Tim's departure will finally open their eyes but they're still the same navel-obsessed, crybabies and poor losers' bunch than before."

Ziva suddenly turned about and kicked at a coffee table: the unlucky furniture tumbled over and sent magazines, TV guide and leaflets flying through the air before falling all over the carpet.

"I still can't believe it, you know! Why on Earth did Tony said to Tim that we were dating? Why does he constantly have to torment Tim? Why does he always lie to him?"

Silence followed Ziva's outburst; deep down, Gibbs knew the reasons for Tony slandering Tim. The Senior Agent had tried to explain many times that his behavior was one of a big brother concerned teasing his younger sibling but that was just a facade, a mask worn by Tony to hide his worst fear: being replaced in Gibbs' affections by Tim. The technology-addicted, gentlemanly, eager-to-please McGee, who simply could not hide his intelligence… He had represented a challenge against his will and Tony, for all his sport pretentions, simply could not bear the idea of competition and so, he had done his best to make sure McGee would always remain 'inferior' to him.

After Gibbs had retired to live in Mexico, Tim had been promoted to Senior Agent and the slandering had been toned down: newly-named Team Leader DiNozzo could not risk seeing McGee leaving as well, and the first signs of a friendship had appeared. Alas, after Gibbs had returned, this frail alliance had crumbled like a sandcastle: once again, Tony had been too preoccupied about his place in his mentor's life to give a damn about anything else, leaving a desolated Tim behind.

"Ziva, I take full responsibility for all this."

"You say you're responsible? But why?"

"Because it's the truth; I should have stopped that stupid sibling rivalry between Tony and Tim years ago. Tony is so scared of being replaced as my surrogate son that he would do anything, including lying, to make sure that it won't happen."

"I've warned Tony that his insecurity will play a dirty trick on him years ago, but of course he wouldn't listen!" retorted Ziva. "And now, look at us: our team is in shambles, we've been lucky to have kept our job so far and even Ducky's workplace is a mess."

"By the way, you'll have to pay for the damaged computer and printer, plus the scalpels and other sharp things you threw at Tony's head. We're not exactly in favor with Vance for the moment and I'd rather not have to ask him for a new Autopsy room for the moment."

"Of course, I'll pay for the damages!" exclaimed the angry young woman. "Unlike Abby, I always pay my debts."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, come on, Gibbs! Did you honestly think Abby would reimburse McGee for the expensive Armani jacket she deliberately tore to shreds, to make a blanket for that poor, innocent, sweet dog that he had so cruelly shot at like the monster he is? When pigs fly, as the American saying goes!"

"I told Abby to pay for that goddamned jacket!" roared the Team Leader.

"She swept your orders under the rug, but that's hardly surprising coming from her; she knew you'd forget about the Armani right after having mentioned it and Tim is too much of a gentleman to ask Abby for money. Tony had thought it hilarious that 'Probie' was punished twice in a day by Abby and you, for having made such a fuss for a few dog bites."

"I never punished McGee for having been attacked by the mutt!"

"Well, with your indifference towards his wounds, it certainly looked it that way. Tim is now convinced that he shouldn't have wasted your time or anyone else's for that matter, since none of us have paid the slightest attention to him. Director Sheppard had to order him to get a check-up and, even then, Tim managed to go to the hospital only after everything was wrapped up, so his injuries would not interfere with the solving of the case."

Gibbs glared at the young woman; with hindsight, he had to admit he had been extremely careless with Tim's health and state of mind, but Abby had been making such a scandal at the Lab, protecting the dog at all costs – even from Director Sheppard – that she had monopolized his attention, as usual. Once the case had been solved and the dog cleared of all wrongdoings, Gibbs had not given a second thought about his agent, suffering in silence.

"McGee should have come to my house; we would have talked about all this over a glass of Bourbon and it would have cleared the air between us. He knows my door's always open…"

"No, he doesn't, Gibbs. Your door may be open for Abby, Tony and me, but Tim is convinced you have excluded him and, unlike Tony, he's not the kind to beg for a place in your heart. Remember that confrontation in the conference room, just before he left for Afghanistan? He said, and I quote: "I know what I am not: golden boy, favorite or adopted child". I've never been so ashamed of myself in my life! While the three of us were parading about the attention we've received from you, it left nothing for McGee, not even a breadcrumble! All he ever got was mud coming from the boots of people walking in front of him and now, he'd rather swallow dust in Afghanistan than stay with the team – especially after Tony's little lying number at MTAC."

"Tim always had a place in my heart! He's had it from Day One!" thought Gibbs but he pressed his lips against one another to prevent the words from escaping his mouth, his pride silencing him just in time.

A long moment of silence followed Ziva's sad statement, and then the silver-haired man's mobile phone buzzed inside the inner pocket of his jacket. Glancing at the screen, Gibbs realized it was a text message sent by Ducky: he pressed on a button and read:

"ANTHONY'S STAYING OVERNIGHT AT HOSPITAL. NOTHING SERIOUS BUT DOCTORS NOT TAKING ANY CHANCES."

"It's from Ducky; Tony's going to survive the trashing you've given him."

"More's the pity," shot Ziva back.

"I swear to you that Tony is going to repair the damages he has done, just like the ones you did in Autopsy. Within four days and with Sam's help, we'll be able to talk to McGee and explain the whole thing to him."

"Don't take his forgiveness for granted, Gibbs. Maybe Tim will appreciate this attempt to set the record straight, but I'm not certain he will forget anytime soon this umpteenth lie from Tony. He's in a war zone and this kind of place changes people quickly – in fact, I'm ready to bet Tim is maturing a lot and he'll be a new person after he returns to DC. I've seen it happening before, Gibbs: some of my Mossad colleagues came back from missions in danger zones completely changed, and it's painful to watch persons morphing into hard, embittered beings without any empathy left."

"I've seen it in the Marines as well, but Tim will never become a monster: he has too much goodness for that!"

"True, but he may not show the same amount of patience towards Abby's whims or Tony's lousy jokes so it may be wise you'd tell them both to change their attitude before they get close and personal with some fighting techniques that Tim has acquired during his mission abroad. Otherwise, I can forecast very somber times for our team!"

"Predict dark times."

"Whatever!"


Three days later, at ISAF…

"Are we ready to go, Roberts?" asked Tim with his laptop tucked under his arm, looking forward for their next trip in the desert for another test run of The Watcher.

The Hummers were already running, Sergeant Raff was supervising the loading of the gear by Privates Winter and Emerson; EOD1 (EWS) Spikerman was checking the contents of his bag for the last time and Private Fredericks was sliding behind the wheel of the second vehicle. All the guys seemed to be accounted for and Tim felt relieved at the thought of these good, reliable men escorting him for a new test on The Watcher.

Today was not going to be easy; dark clouds have gathered all night and the forecast had predicted thunderstorms. According to Corporal Roberts, this kind of weather could only spell trouble: muddy roads, bad visibility, possible flash floods and claps of thunder that could deaden the sound of gunfire coming from ambushed enemies, especially near the mountains where they had thousands of hideouts. Tim was quite aware it was not the best conditions but The Watcher had to be tested to its extreme limits to make certain it would protect soldiers in any given circumstances, including in the worst tempests. Stephenson had not been enthusiastic at-all at the prospect of letting McGee go on a patrol in such a difficult weather – even if he had not said anything out loud, but Tim was becoming good at reading the General's facial expressions and he had been genuinely moved by the older man's concern about him.

However, Stephenson had approved the test, under the condition that Tim would not stray from the route initially planned or make more runs than needed: "You do your magic but once it's finished, you go straight back to ISAF, son, and you stop for nothing!". Tim was quite aware of the difficulty of this test but at least, he would have his 'usual suspects' to watch his back, including Roberts. It was the reason why he had promised Stephenson to obey orders to the letter: one run in the desert under the foulest weather, and then everybody would be back safe and sound at the base.

"Er, not yet, Lieutenant," answered the Corporal with a slight hesitation in his voice. "Something came up and I haven't gotten the time to tell you."

"What is it?"

"Sorry, Sir, but Lieutenant Lay won't be coming. He's sick in bed, as we speak."

Tim was taken aback by the news: the field doctor would not be amongst them for The Watcher's test run? But they could not go on patrol without a member of the medical staff!

"Oh, no! But what happened to him?"

"Missing a few details, Sir, but somehow he got very sick last night – in the lines of vomiting, high fever, sweating – and so he went straight to the hospital; the doctors didn't want to take a chance and put him in isolation straightaway, as they feared that somehow he could have developed malaria."

"Oh, my God! I hope it's only a false alarm," said Tim, horrified at the thought of Lieutenant Lay (the silent, solid doctor) could fall victim of a disease that killed about two thousand persons per day.

"Yeah, so do I, Sir. Lieutenant Lay's a good man."

Tim's first thought was that the patrol would be cancelled and, for the briefest moment, he felt pretty cross – and mentally kicked himself one second later: the whole situation was certainly not of the field doctor's fault and getting mad would not help. The only thing left to do was to report to Stephenson's and ask for orders... but then, Tim's emeralds widened in realization: the patrol could not be cancelled, since the men were hurrying up in loading the Humvees!

"Em, Roberts? Why are the men getting ready to leave, if we're missing one of our own?"

"That's the thing, Sir: as soon as I heard that Lieutenant Lay was out of commission, I took the liberty to report to General Stephenson and he searched for a substitute at once, a competent doctor we could trust to not ask embarrassing questions; the first three times, he hit rock bottom: Captain Rogerson has surgery all day, Captain Ferro is out on a mission and Captain Ringwald is barely recovering from a leg wound he sustained weeks ago. There was just only one person available to do the mission but I'm not certain you're going to like it..."

Tim had a sarcastic smile: "As long as it isn't Sergeant Miller..."

"Oh, no, Sir!" exclaimed Roberts, looking horrified at the idea of ISAF's worst soldier would come along with them.

In fact, thought the Corporal in petto, it would be better for everyone's sake if Miller was locked up in the brig. According to Sergeant Raff and Private Emerson, the anger-prone Sergeant had been lurking in the shadows of the garage where McGee's Humvee was parked, acting like he was expecting something but fled like a nervous mouse at the slightest noise. Raff had said he would not have minded punching his colleague on the nose, as his behavior was irritating to say the least – but Roberts could not have helped but feeling that something more was at hand, without being able to identify what. He had not told Stephenson about it, since the General would not have appreciated his Corporal's groundless suspicions.

"So, Roberts, to whom did the award went to?" asked Tim.

"Well, Sir, the winner is..."

At the same moment, a shadow moved at the corner of Tim's eyes and he immediately recognized the woman in fatigues, carrying a doctor's bag in one hand and a backpack in another.

"Captain Wilkins, Sir," concluded Roberts with a knowing half-smile.

Tim almost dropped his laptop on the ground, out of surprise of seeing Aimee ready to accompany them on a patrol... And during one of The Watcher's test runs, to boot! Roberts, sensing the Lieutenant and the Captain had a few things to say to one another in private, seized the opportunity to salute before slipping away discreetly from the scene and head towards the Humvees.

"Aimee... Oh God, I can't believe it... Aimee, what are you doing here?" Tim finally managed to say in a low voice, shocked beyond words at the sight of the gorgeous woman in a garage, at the crack of dawn, and right in the middle of the usual chaos preceding the departure of a patrol.

"As I am certain Corporal Robert has already told you, I'm coming with you... beloved," whispered Aimee back, insisting sensuously on the last word.

"But you can't!" exclaimed Tim.

"And why not, pray tell?" asked the young woman, her face turning severe instantly.

"Aimee, you don't understand... We're going to patrol an area out in the desert, under a thunderstorm and it's dangerous!" protested Tim.

"No, you're the one who don't understand, Lieutenant McGee. I've been on patrol in the desert before, way before you and I met. I've tended to wounded soldiers under scorching sun, snowstorms and while dodging hails of bullets: it has never stopped me from doing my duty and when General Stephenson ordered me to replace Lieutenant Lay, I obeyed at once."

"Stephenson told you to come along?"

"Yes, of course; he knew I was the only person qualified to do the job since Rogerson, Ferro and Ringwald are busy elsewhere."

Aimee did not mention the strange feeling she had in the General's office. Stephenson had looked at her with a no-nonsense glare and for a moment, Aimee had wondered what she could have possibly done to have angered the older man – until a little voice had whispered inside her brains that somehow he had gotten aware of her relationship with the smart Lieutenant. But before she could start to panic, Stephenson had told her to grab her gear and run to garage 12, where McGee and his team would be waiting for their new field doctor. Inwardly very pleased at the thought of going on a mission with the man of her heart, Aimee had practically flew out of the General's office to run at the hospital, collect her things and dash for the garage, worried that Tim would leave ISAF without her.

"Please don't take it bad, but... I hate the idea of you being in danger. I know it sounds silly..."

"It is silly, Tim. For your information, this is not a stage prop used in theaters to scare off the audience," said Aimee while tapping gently on the cross of the Beretta M9 at her belt. "I've spent ten years in the Navy, I'm a crack shot and I've never hesitated in defending myself of my teammates against enemies. So, are we going to stand here in this garage talking our heads off like stupid tattle-tales, or are we actually going to shake a leg and get this circus on the road?"

Tim suddenly blushed; he had been acting like a complete idiot! Aimee had far more military experience than him and he was treating her like a wet-behind-the-ears probationer! Even worse, he was trying to use their love to keep her aside, regardless of General Stephenson's direct orders! His attitude was borderline insulting and, if there had not been an audience, he probably would have his face slapped six ways to Sunday for ever doubting Captain Wilkins' skills and commitment to duty.

"I'm sorry. I've been a fool. I just hope that one day you will… forgive me," said Tim with a low voice, his head bent and inwardly wishing for the Earth to open and swallow him whole to end his misery.

Aimee feigned to adjust the grip she had on her medical bag but, in the same movement, she took hold of Tim's hand and squeezed.

McGee pulled his eyes away from the ground and looked down at their hands. He squeezed back – tightly – and Aimee whispered:

"You're already forgiven, beloved. How can I stay mad at a lovely man like you?"

The red on Tim's face got a shade darker but he nonetheless replied in a low voice: "Captain Wilkins, your courage is as beautiful as your face."

Roberts glanced at the couple and let out a sigh: foul weather, difficult driving conditions, and two lovebirds in the same Humvee. The mission was not going to be easy, indeed!

TBC...