"And at that very moment, away behind in some courtyard of the City, a Cock crowed. Shrill and clear he crowed, reckoning nothing of wizardry or war, welcoming only the morning, that in the sky far above the shadows of death was coming with the dawn." The Return of the King

.***.

Social Services arrived and created what was probably the biggest jurisdiction snafu Tony had ever seen, and that was saying something. NCIS needed the kids as witnesses in order to put the twenty or so men they'd picked up behind bars. Social Services wanted to put them back with their families and then, finding they had none, into the system.

The back-and-forth was not helping Tony's headache. He ducked out of the conversation after the first volley was returned, going instead to sit back with McGee.

He hadn't woken up yet. The doctors said that it would probably be a day or so before the drugs let up enough for him to wake up, but that the surgery had gone very well, thank you very much. "So he'll be okay?" Abby had asked, her voice wobbling with worry.

"He'll be fine." And Abby had taken one look at McGee before resolutely turning away and hurrying down the hall. She'd spent the afternoon and most of the evening waiting for news about one of her best friends, but there was evidence that needed to be run ASAP for those kids. "Take care of him for me," she'd said, pointing a finger at Tony's chest. "And don't even think about goading him into getting up."

Tony, rightly chagrined, flushed hot, "Right." He didn't need to check his watch to know it was late, so he softened his tone, knowing that it was killing Abby to have to spend even a few minutes away from McGee. "Go on. The faster you leave, the faster you'll get back."

And that was how Tony ended up moving all the boys into McGee's room around one in the morning, filling up all the chairs. Adam and Donkor had been placed in their own room – Tony made sure Ziva was over there, that way at least someone was familiar. Jay wasn't out of surgery yet.

Tony had Jordan – by far the one most willing to be touched – on his lap, and the young boy's hair brushed against Tony's lower arm. The look of his peaceful, young face made Tony's blood boil for the men who'd hurt him.

The one point that Gibbs had conceded to for social services and the prosecutors who would be taking the case was to have the hospital administer a rape kit on the boys. It was purely for the evidence – the files on the flash drive and the boys' own skittish qualities were proof enough for the NCIS agents. All six had come back positive. Multiple…

But Tony couldn't think down that line, couldn't because concentrating on two tragedies at once defied his personality. He threw his heart and soul into one thing at a time. Right now, it was McGee who needed him the most.

They'd called McGee's parents, who lived in Ohio and couldn't get a plane until the morning. His sister had taken a year to study abroad in Spain. So the NCIS agents were all the family McGee was going to get until the next day.

"I'm sorry, McGee." It was a whisper, so as not to wake up the children around him, but Tony couldn't have felt any more guilty than if he'd thrust the plank of wood into McGee's side himself. "God, I'm so sorry."

Their relationship had evolved over the years. His Probie was becoming more and more independent, more proficient at his job. Tony's teasing remarks had become just that – running jokes that they both enjoyed in their own way.

Tony liked to think that McGee knew that, that he recognized the nicknames and teasing as shows of affection, ways of building McGee's confidence and voice. He certainly thought of McGee as a slower, less-handsome younger brother.

The monitors beeped quietly which each beat of McGee's heart and the sound managed to sooth Tony's frayed nerves. Slowly, slowly, his grip on Jordan became slack. With one hand on the child and one hand tucked in McGee's open palm, he fell asleep.

.***.

The ordeal wasn't over, though.

The most pressing problem was, of course, the kids. The six boys were homeless, had been living on the streets of Philadelphia and Camden and Baltimore when Murphey and his cronies picked them up. Now with three recovering from surgery and three scared and shaking, Social Services wanted to put them into the system.

"That can't happen." Tony said flatly, locking eyes with the woman who just couldn't understand what these kids were like, not like Tony could. "You can't touch them. I mean, you can, because they'll just sit there and take it, but being in a group home or even foster care would kill them."

"You cannot separate the older boys from the younger ones." Tony's biggest supporter was Ziva, who'd been with Adam and Donkor all night, "You will drive them out of their heads with worry."

The woman sighed, looked down at her file as if there might be answers there. Her name was Beatrice, and she really was a good person. She cared about the kids she worked with. She knew the system was flawed, but it was the only one they had and that wasn't changing anytime soon. "Maybe I can get them into the same area…perhaps the same city."

"Why not the same place?" Gibbs asked, his voice gruff and uncompromising. Yesterday he'd told two of his agents not to leave NCIS. They had left anyway and found the kids. Now McGee had a hole in his side and Tony had six human shadows and was trying to play guardian while jumping through the system's hoops.

And Gibbs hadn't gotten any sleep, thanks to the two dozen-odd people he'd arrested and attempted to interrogate the night before.

"It would be impossible to find a facility willing to take in six emotionally disturbed boys. Perhaps the three young ones can be in the same place, but everyone is wary of teenage boys with issues." Beatrice sighed, closed the folder. "Social services will be back when the children are cleared to leave the hospital."

Tony watched her go. "That can't happen, boss. It's not right."

"No, it's not." Gibbs hated cases like these, cases where children were the pawns and adults played with them as if they were toys to be stowed away and forgotten when convenient. But maybe it was better this way, with social services involved. At least the boys were off the streets.

Maybe, in a sick, twisted, backwards way, this whole thing had been a blessing in disguise.

Gibbs snorted at the very thought and took a long sip of coffee, watching the woman who didn't understand children at all walk away. This was anything but a blessing.

"We need those statements, DiNozzo." Gibbs said quietly. "We've held out for longer than we should have and NCIS has twenty men stewing in interrogation."

He expected protest, because even Gibbs knew that the boys weren't ready to relive the whole experience again, that perhaps they never would be, and he hadn't sat with them all night. But instead Tony nodded, obedient if not enthusiastic. "On it, boss."

Of course, on his way he was intercepted by Abby. "There you are, Tony, I've been looking for you everywhere!"

"Haven't really gone anywhere, Abs, just had to clear stuff up with Social Services. Did McGee wake up?"

Abby's smile betrayed her news. "He's been asking for you. Shouting for you, actually. I had to fight the nurses tooth and nail so they wouldn't sedate him."

Tony quickened his pace, heading down the now-familiar corridors towards McGee's room. "But he's alright?"

"Perfectly." The smile slipped a couple of notches. "He'll need more surgery, though, probably tomorrow. Yesterday was just to stabilize him, but he still needs some of the more specific work done, and then there's physical therapy for his arm – which is still the worst because you know McGee, he loves his arms, he needs them because he works on the computers all day with me. What if he can't do that anymore? What if he's not fast enough? Tony, do you think -"

"Abby."Tony was practicing that loving-yet-stern thing Gibbs always had going on when talking to everyone's favorite lab technician. "You've got to calm down before we go in to see McGee."

It was visible, Abby's reaction to the words. She took a deep, stabilizing breath, puffing out her cheeks in the way children did when asked to breathe deeply. She nodded as she exhaled.

"Tony!" Tony kept his face as impassive as possible when McGee's voice broke on the word. He took in his partner's appearance – pale, with deep, dark circles under his eyes. He looked sick, but not beaten. It was obvious he'd been fretting about something incessantly since he'd woken up.

"Worrying 'bout me, Probie? You shouldn't have." Tony didn't know why he couldn't just sit down and hold McGee's hand as he had during the night, tell him that he was sorry for dragging him into the house when he knew that it was an unsafe environment. He just couldn't get the words out in the light of day. Still, he managed "how you doing?" even if that didn't quite say all he needed to say.

McGee glanced down at his body as if he was noticing for the first time that he was confined to a bed. Brow furrowing, he looked back up at Tony, "But…you fell through the floor. At the house. Why…?" The monitor began beeping a warning and Tony put a placating hand on McGee's arm.

"McGee, you have to calm down, okay? You calm down and I'll fill you in on everything, I promise, but if you don't they'll kick me out, and probably Abby too, 'cause she loves you too much to leave you out of anything, especially a case you helped crack." The monitor showed McGee trying to comply with the order and the jagged spikes and rapid beeping eventually slowed to a monotonous drone.

When the sharp edges of the lines once again smoothed, Tony allowed himself to sit down just for a bit. Sleep is for wusses, anyway. "You were the one who fell, Probie not me." The image of whipping around only to see McGee plunge into darkness invaded his mind for a bright instant, "Found the kids while you were at it, too."

"'S good." McGee murmured, his hand tightening around Abby's. "Thought you'd died or something. Gibbs would have been pissed."

"Mmm." For all they didn't say to each other, Tony knew a naked sentiment when he heard one. He and Tim may not acknowledge the years, but they'd crept up on them. Three, five, seven, and Tony had stopped thinking of McGee as the slower little brother but as an equal, a friend, a best friend.

"K-kids okay?" They both winced at the stutter and Tony pressed the magic little button that would up those pain meds. McGee sighed at once as the pain receded to a throb.

"There's some hanging around outside if you want to meet them. There's six boys, all present and accounted for. Malnutrition and…well, you can probably guess. But they'll live."

McGee snorted. "Some life."

Tony frowned slightly. It wasn't like McGee to be pessimistic about anything, even a problem that had no immediate solution. "Gibbs is arguing with Social Services right now. He'll make sure they stay together at least."

McGee's face was still clouded with worry and pain, and Tony tried to think of a way to brighten up the room. It was Abby who poked her head in, her face automatically softening at the sight of McGee, "Hey," she said, voice low for once, "There's some people who want to thank you."

Bobby, Charlie, and Jordan peered around the corner, smiling shyly as they noticed McGee on the bed. If Tony had been looking, he would have seen the three boys exchange quick looks, then nod as they decided that, yes, they really were going to do this. He would have seen them creep over to the bed, small hands reaching to touch McGee, to thank him with the small, immensely important gestures of children.

But Tony was looking instead at McGee, who had fixed a fake smile in place for Abby. He watched as the smile became gentler, wider, fuller, until it became real, until all the pain and misery and meanness of the last few days was forgotten. For now.

I love premier week for all the new seasons of TV shows. Especially when we happen to write for one of those categories.

And, of course, we love NCIS. And we love people who review.