Chapter Nineteen: Be Still

Be Still – The Fray

"If you forget the way to go

And lose where you came from

If no one else is standing beside you

Be still and know I am.

Be still and know that I'm with you

Be still and know I am."

September

McGee

He realized it as he was driving to work that morning. The light at the lonely intersection turned green and it hit him like a ton of bricks.

It's been a year.

A year and thirteen days to be exact.

He immediately felt like crying, and only the cool breeze from the open window kept him from it. It bolstered his senses and reminded him that he was driving and that the world was not still in mourning.

He drove on.

How could he have not noticed? It seemed like he'd seen Shauna only yesterday. Young, vibrant, alive. She was so suddenly swept from their lives, how could it have already been a year? He thought back, and realized that he hadn't thought of her in... a week. Maybe more?

It reminded him of when Kate died. Tim had only known her for a little less time than he had known Shauna, and when Kate had died he thought about it constantly, replaying all the things that she'd ever said to him and wishing they'd had more time. But eventually, he thought of her less, and he would go days or even weeks without seeing anything that reminded him of her. And that hurt, but he understood even over all those years ago that it was just how life moved on.

But he never expected the same thing when it came to Shauna. He thought of her like a daughter, it just came so naturally to the both of them to be that way with each other. To think that he'd forgotten about her for even a second was painful, and to realize that the date of her passing had come and gone and he hadn't even noticed. Had Angel noticed? Had Matt? It was likely that they did, though the two of them weren't really ones for outwardly dealing with their emotions, and would probably not want to talk about it even if they were asked.

Still though, it didn't feel right.

Gibbs' Rule #8: Never take anything for granted. He may not have remembered the date, but he would never forget her or what she meant to him or the team. Watching Amy sit in Shauna's old desk, the one he first occupied, it was sad. But in the little over ten months that Amy had been there, she had grown into it. He could tell that she knew the significance of her spot in the bullpen and the gaping void she was meant to be filling, and it was something he couldn't change. But he vowed to make certain that she knew how important she was to him, he never wanted Amy to doubt that.

Amy

The view rising above the haphazard slew of ramshackle houses and run-down apartment buildings was nothing short of stunning. The first streaks of a bright, golden pink light shone across the sky just beginning to awaken with the dawn. A few crickets chirped in the grass, the morning dew still clinging to it and dripping from the leaves of the trees.

Amy Travis crept forward in the disappearing darkness, pulling her jacket closer around her body as a light breeze, cool and moist, whispered on her face and sent a chill down her spine. Her boots slipped a little on the wet grass, but she caught herself before she could fall. That would have been very unladylike. She looked around her, checking to make sure that she was alone. She loved being up this early. She used to work the night shift as a patrol cop, and when she would get off work, she would sit outside the station and watch as the sun came up.

The street was empty and almost actually peaceful, save for engines and a siren on the nearby freeway. It was the stillness that she loved. The world completely at ease with itself, and oblivious to the trials and sorrows of the people who called it home.

She did another quick check of her surroundings, and then tiptoed her way a couple houses down to her neighbors' front porch. On the outside, they were a kindly elderly couple, but Amy knew that on the inside, they were complete rotten apples. They were vain and proud, and repeatedly called animal control when the man's dog from across the street, a sweet little thing that wouldn't hurt a fly, managed to loose himself from his chain.

It's always darkest before the dawn, she remembered a quote of which her grandfather was always rather fond of, so if you're going to steal your neighbors' newspaper, that's the time to do it.

Silent as a ghost, she leaned down, swiped the paper and dashed off, a trill of adrenaline surging through her veins. She knew it was stupid, getting excited committing such petty theft, not to mention morally wrong, considering her position, but, truth be told... they deserved it.

As she made her way back to her own driveway to get into her car, she didn't notice the shadow of another person overtake her own. There was a sudden pain on her temple and then everything went black.

McGee

Matt was already at his desk when Tim arrived at the office, scrolling through the news on his computer. Tim was a little early. He had wanted to catch up on his pile of reports before they caught another case and the director sent him yet another passive aggressive email about "priorities" and "setting a good example."

While Tim sorted through the files on his desk, Angel bustled in, arms full of old shoe boxes and a large leather bound book that she dumped unceremoniously on top of her desk. She turned to look at him and Matt expectantly.

When they were not forthcoming, she sighed. "I suppose you aren't going to ask, so I'm going to go ahead and tell you what the boxes are about." She picked up the book, which when she opened it, revealed itself to be about halfway filled with pictures. "I'm making a photo album. And I want you all," she began distributing the shoe boxes onto Tim's, Matt's, and Amy's desks, "to help me find the best pictures."

Sarah, who was suddenly leaning over the divider, asked, "Who on earth prints out pictures anymore? Those boxes look like you've had them for a while."

"I, my dear friend, have always printed pictures. My mother was the one who started it and I tend to agree with her that your memories are best held in your hands."

"Ooh!" Palmer exclaimed, he and Bobby entering Ziva's side of the bullpen with what looked like a presentation for her case. "I love photo albums. Me and Breena hope to have a full shelf of them by the time we're old and gray."

"Where's Agent David?" Bobby asked of the group. "She wanted us to have the case notes ready first thing in the morning."

"She and I left at the same time this morning," Tim said. "Which usually means – "

"That I am already here." Ziva said descending the steps from the director's office.

Tim couldn't stop the way his heart sped up when she stopped by his desk to give him a kiss on the cheek before heading over for the update, which Tim paid little attention to.

Angel was looking through a box on her own desk, not paying much attention to anything else. Tim let her be, he couldn't fault her for wanting to keep her memories a little closer.

"Where's Amy?" Matt asked.

"Late," Angel quipped, not looking up. "Again, I'm sure. It's becoming a habit..." she repeated the same debate she and Amy had had a few days prior.

Tim was about to tell her to drop it when Ziva called for him. She beckoned him around to her desk. "Could you find me a list of the last people to view this website. I would ask Johnathan but he's in the field with Maxine."

Tim sat down and began typing, "Anytime. You know all you have to do," keystroke, "is," keystroke, "ask," final keystroke, and the information popped up on the plasma. He glanced over when his desk phone began ringing, but Angel was already on her way to answer it. Palmer was clapping him on the back.

"That's gotta be a record, Tim," Palmer said. "That couldn't have been more than ten seconds."

"Actually the record's six seconds, but..."

"Oh," Ziva chided him, nudging his shoulder with an elbow, "Well, I suppose it is early in the day, and after a long night."

Tim blushed.

"Well well well," Bobby began, but then froze, looking at Angel.

Tim spun around, only to be met with Angel, face pale and stricken with horror. "Ange, what—"

She quickly placed the phone on speaker.

Amy's voice was on the phone, but it was mechanical, like she was under duress and being forced to read from a prompt.

"—Covington Wholesale warehouse in Anacostia. Come and watch the fireworks. This – this is your fault Special Agent McGee. It's your turn..." she paused, but then the sound of an impact and a cry of pain sounded over the speakers, making everybody flinch, "it's your turn to watch helpless as your teammate dies at the hands of a monster. You have one hour." The line went dead.

Nobody moved for a second, but then everything happened at once.

Matt jumped up, gripping Angel's arm in a vice, pulling her out of her shock. "What was the first part of the message? What else did she say?"

Angel shook her head to clear it. "She said, 'Special Agent McGee, this is for your apathy, and your indecency in the line of duty. The punishment for your crimes will take place at the loading dock of Covington Wholesale...'" She looked into Tim's eyes. "Someone has Amy, boss. We have to—"

He nodded. "Right, everybody! Let's go." In a flurry of movement, he and his team, along with Ziva and Sarah all grabbed their gear and took off.

Bobby called out that he would send the coordinates to their phones.

At first glance, nothing about the scene struck him as terribly wrong. The car skidded to a halt in the gravel behind the warehouse, and they all jumped out and ran to the concrete platform of the loading dock where Amy sat on a wooden crate. The sense of foreboding really sank in, when Amy held up a shaky hand as they approached and, in her own voice this time, said "Stop where you are."

"Amy!" Angel cried, "What happened? Are you okay?"

Tear streaks were washed anew on her face as she shook her head. Slowly and carefully, she reached for the zipper of her jacket and pulled it down far enough to expose a few wires.

"Don't!" Matt commanded. He approached her carefully and unzipped the jacket himself, revealing wires and blasting caps and enough C4 to blow up a house.

Ziva turned to Sarah. "Call the bomb squad."

"No," Matt said without looking away. "There's only twenty minutes on the timer, and you never know if they could have set it to go off sooner."

"Call them anyway," Ziva said and Sarah stepped back toward the car.

"Can you do this, Matt?" Tim questioned.

"I'm doing it."

"N-no. He said... he said if you touch it, it would blow." Amy stuttered.

"Amy," Angel said, as she, Ziva and Tim climbed the stairs to the platform. "Amy, it's going to be okay. Just breathe."

Amy tried to take a calming breath, but a few hiccuppy sobs broke through. Shakily, she nodded.

"Matt knows what he's doing."

"O-okay."

Tim tried to clamp down on the sheer terror that had seized his heart. Not this again. "Amy," he said, kneeling down beside her. "I need you to focus, okay. Can you do that?"

She nodded again, a little stronger this time.

"The person who kidnapped you. Did you see his face? Did you recognize them."

"N-no. He – he wore a mask. He was white, American accent, southern. Maybe 40 or 50 years old."

"Okay. Tell me what happened."

"I – um – I was about to get in my car... to go to work. That's all I remember. Then I woke up here, and he made me read that... And..." she gestured shakily at her chest. Matt was still studying the wires, face hard with anger.

Tim noticed a bit of blood along her jaw and reached to push Amy's hair back from the side of her head, revealing a sluggishly bleeding cut in her hairline. His gut clenched, and he grasped her hand. "Good, Amy. You're doing great. Did he say anything else?"

"Just that you – uhmm – you let his son die. Over in Iraq. He said you didn't do anything when he was capture by the extremists." Amy's eyes were so scared when she looked into his, he had to swallow back his own fear. "I'm gonna – I'm gonna die, aren't I?"

"Amy, no. You're not. We're gonna save you, do you hear me?"

Amy swallowed thickly, but didn't answer him. "How much time is left?"

Tim looked down. "Sixteen minutes. Plenty of time," he said. Tim raised his eyes to Ziva. He

knew exactly who had done this, and he knew that Ziva did too.

Ziva nodded and took off.

"Where's sh-she going?"

"She going to find who kidnapped you and we're going to make them pay," Tim assured her. "Matt? What do you think?" he asked gently.

"It's complex," Matt answered. "But I can do it. Angel."

"Yes?" she said immediately. "What do you need?"

"First aid kid from the car. A syringe."

Angel was off like a shot.

"Okay, Ames, listen up," Matt said, lifting her chin to look her in the eye. "As soon as I start this, the timer's going to go to one minute," Amy gasped, squeezing Tim's fingers. Matt continued, "But it's going to be okay. Hey," he said, not letting her look away, "I promise."

She nodded shakily.

Angel returned with the bag, and dug through it until she found the emergency insulin kit and broke the syringe out of it's packaging, passing it to Matt.

"Ange," Tim said, "you should go."

"What!?" she screeched. "Like hell! I'm not going anywhere."

Amy said, "You – you should both go. Boss. Angel. Please – if this doesn't work, I don't want you hurt too."

Angel was indignant. "Tough, Probie!" And if Tim was shocked to hear Angel call Amy 'Probie', it was nothing compared to what Amy how Amy's eyes widened in surprise. "You're not getting rid of me that easily."

Amy slowly smiled, eyes soft. "You called me Probie."

"Yeah, well," Angel knelt down and took Amy's other hand. "Get used to it."

Steeling himself, Tim turned to Matt. "Alright, what do we do?"

Matt swallowed. "I'm gonna disrupt the trigger mechanism, which will cause the timer to speed up, and after that, it's just a simple matter of disengaging the blasting caps from the fuses."

"Right," Tim said. "Easy peasy."

Tim glanced around them. Ziva was standing over by the car with Sarah, both of them on their phones. Ziva was shouting at somebody, throwing a few choice words in here and there and looking royally pissed off. Sirens could be heard in the distance, the local LEOs and the bomb squad would be on their way by now. He thought of the way Ziva was when he'd first known her, all wild hair and fierce eyes, but always an underlying pain. And so young. Why is it always the youngest ones who are hurt the most by the vicious? Why always the kindest? Why Ziva? Why Amy? Why Shauna?

It was Tony that had said it, and it had always stuck with him. "This is life, calling collect, saying 'I'm short. Appreciate me.'" Suddenly, Ziva stopped shouting and cursing, and met his eyes. She must have caught something in his gaze, because she took a deep breath and nodded. It was all that Tim needed.

Matt was watching him, waiting for permission. Tim nodded once. "Do it," he said.

Amy gripped his hand tighter, shutting her eyes. Angel sucked in a breath and held it.

Matt filled the syringe with air and stuck it carefully into a tiny plastic box on the back of the timer. Immediately, the timer changed to 1:00 and began to count down, emitting a counting beep. After ten seconds, the beeping sped up, but Matt was already moving, using his knife to pop off the fuses and cut the wires. The beeping sped up again, gaining in pitch all the time.

"Almost, almost..." Matt said through clenched teeth. "And one more..." He cut the last wire and the timer stopped at twenty-eight seconds.

As one, the team let out a sigh of relief.

Breathily, Amy said. "Somebody get this thing off of me. Right now."

Matt quickly unplugged the wires and unzipped the zipper holding the vest together, and he and Angel helped her pull it off.

As soon as she was free Amy fell into Tim's arms. She cried, burying her face in his chest.

Sarah came and got the vest from Angel and went to meet the bomb squad van where it was just arriving on the scene, allowing Angel and Matt to return. Without giving it a second thought, Tim opened his arms. Both Angel and Matt accepted the group hug, kneeling down and wrapping each other up, Amy in the middle, protected and safe.

Tim faced skyward, tears falling, and he gave thanks that his team was whole and alive and right here in his arms.