Chapter 2 - Sweetness and light
McGee knelt on the rooftop, systematically disassembling his sniper rifle and placing each piece meticulously into his rifle case. One by one he slid them into their own personal purpose-built form-molded compartment. Although the procedure was so ingrained in him now that he could literally perform the actions with his eyes shut, he focused every ounce of his concentration on each step. He needed something to fill his mind and stop it from wandering back to the image of the face in his sights and the sound of the howling wind ….
Pausing, he squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, banishing the unwanted memories. Opening them again with a new resolve, he clipped the case shut, picked up his tripod and made his way to the stairwell for the long climb back down to the ground. Tony and Ziva would be along soon to pick him up. He had until then to fully regain his composure.
By the time Tony and Ziva pulled up in the shiny Dodge, McGee was numb. On rubbery legs, he strode to the trunk and threw his rifle case on top of the two already lying in there. His case looked different to the others somehow, as though you could tell which one had tasted blood today.
"Good shot, Probie," Tony enthused as the car pulled away from the curb.
McGee could not summon the words to respond. Even if he could, his mouth was too dry to actually utter them. Just the fresh reminder of his actions set him shaking and on a path somewhere between throwing up and passing out. His mind flashed back to that day in the lab.
"It looks sweet the way you hold that, Boss."
"Sweet? Think Ari looked sweet when he shot Kate?"
Did Ari look 'sweet'? No. Did he think he himself looked sweet today staring down that barrel at another human being, preparing to end his life? Definitely not. Sick: sure, panicked: unarguably but sweet? Although they hurt at the time, he now recognized Gibbs' words for the warning they were. He wasn't ready for this. Sure he had the training in marksmanship mechanics but the mindset - that was another thing entirely. Did Ari enjoy that shot at Kate? Did he go through all that planning and then have any regrets? Doubtful. McGee recognized the huge gulf between himself and a real sniper.
"Right through the temple," Tony continued gleefully.
"Tony!" McGee snapped.
"What?"
"I just killed someone, OK."
"You did your job, McGee," Ziva clarified.
McGee ground his teeth together and fought the bile rising in his throat. There was no way they could understand how he felt.
"Wish I could have taken that shot," Tony said wistfully as they drove off towards headquarters.
Thunk.
Thunk, thunk.
Thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk, twack.
McGee finally glared across at Tony who was in the midst of rolling yet another paper ball to lob at his face. "Stop it."
"I'm just getting some sniper training in," Tony grinned.
"That's enough training," McGee growled.
"Think you can beat me, Probie?" Tony goaded. "I challenge you to a sniper duel at 5000 paces."
McGee shook his head and returned to his report. His hands were still shaking causing the cursor to flit about the screen like a panicked bug. He blinked the sweat out of his eyes and squinted to focus on the writing swerving impatiently before his eyes.
Gibbs watched McGee from his desk. The kid looked devastated: pale, sweaty and shaking. All good snipers went through it: the first kill was always the hardest but it never got easy. A field kill in the line of duty was totally different to the premeditated sniper kill. Some young guns, no pun intended, never made it past this point. It was up to him now to find a way to help McGee come to terms with it.
"McGee," he called out.
Desperate eyes looked up at him.
"Abby's lab."
Gibbs saw McGee's despair dissolve into relief: Abby would be a momentary sanctuary for him, allowing him to regroup before the lesson Gibbs had planned.
"On it, Boss."
As the junior agent left, Gibbs picked up the phone to prepare Abby for her part.
"Timmy", Abby cried smothering him in a hug. "You did good out there today."
"Then why do I feel so bad?"
Abby released him and stared him in the face, "because."
"Thanks, I feel much better, now."
"Well, you tell me: why don't you feel good about what you did?"
McGee took a deep breath. "I … I don't know. I just thought it would be different, you know. I just… well… look can we just drop this? I'm already getting enough reminders from Tony."
"Sure. Consider it dropped. Have a look at this cool re-creation I did of the crime scene." Abby spun to her computer and brought up a series of vector drawings. "See here's Gibbs and the bad guy and over on the other rooftops are you, Tony and Ziva. Now watch as I add the wind speed and direction."
McGee's mouth went dry again.
"Now this is the clever part," Abby enthused. "I calculated your bullet's trajectory from muzzle to temple." A green line appeared on the screen tracing an almost parabolic arc from his marked position to Gibbs'. "One little wind gust and the Boss might have been history!"
McGee squeezed his eyes shut. "Abs, what part of 'drop this' does that picture constitute?"
Abby killed the image. "Well, it's science and that can't be bad." She paused, smiling weakly. "Here," she offered him a Caf Pow. "You look like you could use this."
McGee frowned at the proffered drink then looked down at his shaking hands. "I don't think I really need the extra caffeine, Abs."
Abby shrugged in defeat. "Probably not," she conceded.
"I'm beginning to see why Ziva offered me the vodka," McGee mused.
"Ooooo, Ziva has vodka? Where does she keep it?"
"In her … , " he was cut short by Ducky's call on the video link.
"Ahh, Abigail. Does Timothy happen to be up there with you?"
"You must be getting psychic in your old age Ducky."
"Would you be so kind as to send him down to autopsy, please? I have something he needs to see."
"Be right there, Ducky," McGee said, bending so that the intercom lens caught his face.
As Ducky's face disappeared, McGee straightened and exchanged glances with Abby: this didn't sound good.
"Come on," she said taking his hand. "I'll come with you."