Sometimes, the things that may or may not be true are the things a man needs to believe most. That people are basically good; that honor, dignity, and courage mean everything and money and power, power and money mean nothing; that good always triumphs over evil... Remember that. It doesn't' matter if it's true or not. You see, a man should believe in these things, because those are the things worth believing in. Secondhand Lions

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There was a house on the property. One story, sprawling in a way that could never have been built by any sober contractor, it was imposing even from the outside.

"There's only one entrance." Tony observed, eyeing the house with no small amount of excitement. "Should be easy enough to canvass."

"We're not going in, Tony. The guy who owns it cracked your head open two days ago."

"There's no cars." Tony pointed out, already opening the car door. "And look how many rooms that place has! That's a ton of places to hide these kids."

"A ton of places to hide, period. Seriously, Tony, are you forgetting the last time we walked into an uncleared house?" But McGee got out of the car, too, struggling a bit more with his cumbersome sling and pained shoulder. He'd known from the beginning that Tony could never just sit and wait in the car. It wasn't in his nature to let things pass him by, especially if he was there first. To Tony, doctors' orders didn't matter as much as humans.

"You're going in first." McGee grumbled, letting Tony get a few steps ahead of him as they neared the doorway.

"Whatever, McKilljoy." Because Tony at least could grip a gun, even if he wasn't quite up to his usual degree of marksmanship. He threw open the door after announcing that they were coming in (they had to do some things by the book), only to find a deserted foyer.

"At least there's no surprises." Tony said, quickly checking the other rooms. "Ugh, this is so gross." But he said it in a way that was sincere, heartfelt, and a little angry.

The rooms were all bedrooms, or at least equipped with a bed. Tony checked in closets, under bed sheets, behind every curtain, just to make sure. There was no sign of life anywhere.

"They're not here." He couldn't have sounded more upset, trotting back to the foyer where McGee stood, arm cocked at its curious angle, staring at a point on the wall. He whistled to get his friend's attention.

"I heard you, Tony." McGee tore his eyes away from the wall, which just didn't look quite right, "This is definitely the place where our officers conducted their…business." He went back to staring at the wall. "We have to get back to NCIS, tell Gibbs and Vance. We can get a sting together…maybe even for tonight."

"I don't want there to be a tonight, Probie." Tony said, his voice relating his frustration at the whole situation. "These kids don't deserve to be treated like that again."

"I don't know how much more we can do, Tony." McGee said, not unsympathetically.

Tony sighed, running a stray hand through his hair. He'd been hoping for some sign, some break in the case, because, like everyone else at NCIS, anything involving children just hit him where it hurt. It was sad enough when adults were the victims of the crimes they investigated on a daily basis, but at least they'd had some sort of life to live…

And then there was that dark cloud, because assuming they found the kids, assuming everything turned out in the best case scenario, if the boys were, as McGee and Abby thought, homeless, then they're nightmare would never truly be over. Tony had been a cop and an agent long enough to know that America's system was flawed, that kids tended to fall through the cracks, that usually the victims of circumstance would eventually grow to become the perpetrators of the crimes the agency came across so frequently.

Here was a case, though, where the media might help. So far, NCIS had done a good job of keeping the media away from the case, but once the kids were found (and Tony had to believe that they would be found) it would be impossible to keep the vultures of the news at bay. And hopefully some spotlight on the kids would do something positive: There were good people in the world. Tony had met many of them in him life. And the reason he continued to believe in what he did was because he knew that there were good people in the world, kind people, and he hoped that it would be these reliable few who would take pity on the kids…

But, of course, they had to find them first.

"Let's go." Tony said, moving to holster his weapon as he turned his back on McGee, only for a second.

McGee started forward, oblivious of the ominous creak his first step produced. Perhaps the structure was made of shoddier material than they'd first supposed, because with the second step there was the definite sound of breaking wood.

Tony whipped around when McGee's cry of surprise was cut short. "McGee!" He found himself staring at hole in the floor and ran over to it, listening carefully for further groans of protest from the structure.

McGee was on his side, bent in a strange way. The hole only allowed a minimum of light to shine through, but Tony was sure he saw blood on McGee's head. Oh, Probie….

He was about to call down again, hoping, praying for an answer this time. "Who is that?" Came was a quiet voice from the darkness, young and scared and definitely male.

"Shhh…"

"Is he dead?" A young boy appeared in the shaft of light, maybe eight or nine, blond hair dusty, dirty as he knelt next to McGee. He wrapped his arms clumsily around McGee's neck, messily checking for a pulse.

"Bobby, get back here." The same voice that had shushed the boy earlier. Tony had an impression of an older boy, twelve, thirteen, running in to snatch the blond away from McGee's prone body.

"Hey," Tony said, keeping his voice gentle, low, unable to quite believe what he was seeing. Still, despite his tone, the boys jumped as if they'd been hit, then darted back out of the light. "It's okay. I won't hurt you."

"Who is that?" Another voice.

"Jay, I'm scared." Yet another, this one impossibly young. "That man has a gun." At that, Tony holstered his weapon, putting up his hands in a show of surrender and, he hoped, peace.

"The man is injured." This voice was accented, African. Tony couldn't narrow it down any more than that.

"Did that guy push him? Was he being bad?" Tony began to wonder exactly how many boys were down there.

"I don't think so, kiddo. Look at their hats, they say the same thing. I think they're friends." This voice was older, soothing, a mediator.

Tony decided that now would be as good a time as any to speak up. "My name is Tony. That's my friend…" Did he really almost call him Probie? "Tim."

There was a moment of silence, then a tentative voice, one of the older boys, "I think your friend needs a doctor, sir. He's breathing, but he hasn't moved." Another pause, then, "And some of these kids could use a doctor, too."

"Is he going to get us out?"

"He's a cop, Jay, we shouldn't trust him."

"Does this mean we don't have to do Nights anymore?"

Then again, the "shh…." And there was silence.

Tony took one last look at McGee's body. It was still, too still, and he hadn't shown any signs of moving. "Sorry, Probie." He murmured, aware that he had been the one to drag McGee away from his desk and pain meds, that he had been the one to lead the man into a structurally unsound building.

He stood up, moved away from the hole. He heard a single voice call out, "Where's he going? Is he leaving?" There was an edge of desperation, making Tony come back.

"I'm calling my boss. We're going to get you out of here." Tony smiled tightly, "I'm not going anywhere."

He fumbled for his phone. It took him two tries to extract it from his pocket, his hands were shaking so bad. "Boss? We found them."

Do the bad guys get their just desserts? Does it matter? We deal with the victims in our stories, and trust Gibbs and Ziva to take care of the criminals. For the rest of the story, we'll be seeing a lot of these poor boys, but almost nothing of their captors, savvy?

And, despite all that, if you're an action fan, or because of it, because you like mushy character stories, please review.