Tim sat in front of the computer with complete dread. Breaking into WitSec had taken a considerable less amount of time than he thought it would. He had contained his surprise, however, and had thus far been able to make it look like he was still having trouble.
Guerrero paced around the room with an anxious gait, clearly agitated at McGee's apparent lack of progress. His two bodyguards also stood by, watching their boss with a wary eye while glaring at Tim every time he happened to look their way. He tried to keep his glances at a minimum. Their black looks and side arms that always hung from their belts made him uneasy.
The extra time was unexpected, but it allowed him to put a plan into motion. He silently prayed that his nerves weren't obvious as his fingers flew across the keyboard. Half of what he was doing was for show. The other half was incredibly complicated. While he figured that Guerrero had little-to-no computer experience, Tim still didn't feel comfortable enough to be as bold as to open an e-mail program and send out a cry for help.
He wasn't completely helpless, however.
His mind wandered as he subtly pulled up Rachel's current location. His gut twisted as he thought about Gibbs' reaction to what he was doing. Tim had all-but-promised his boss that he would not give into Guerrero's demands.
In Tim's defense, that was before Sarah's life had been threatened.
Never had he imagined that he'd be forced to choose between two innocent lives. Sarah, who was probably in her dorm room at that very moment, oblivious to her brother's plight… and Rachel, whose only crime was doing the right thing. Neither of them deserved what Guerrero was promising to do, yet he had mere moments to make a decision.
Protect Sarah.
Keep Rachel hidden.
Tim was stuck in that vast, terrible moment between being a brother and an agent.
Sighing, Tim got to work. He knew his plan was risky. It was haphazard, and it may not even work, but he had to try. He'd already determined that Gibbs wasn't going to get them out of this. It would have to be up to him.
He could do this.
He had to.
~~~NCIS~~~
Gibbs was semi-aware when Tim was brought back to the room and restrained to the radiator. He remained still and quiet, his eyes closed, until he was sure he and his agent were once again alone. Peeking under half-closed lids, McGee's shadowy figure came into focus. The young man seemed to be fidgeting with his cuffs, but his blurry vision prevented him from ascertaining much beyond that. Still, Tim seemed to be in the same condition as he was the last time he saw him, and he closed his eyes in relief.
Gibbs wasn't used to being the one left alone, and the unease he had felt upon waking to find Tim gone weighed heavily on him. He had a new appreciation of what Tim had to have been going through each time Gibbs was out of his sight. He'd feared that Guerrero had finally turned away from him and moved onto McGee. The idea of his agent being physically beaten unsettled him more than he would ever outwardly admit, and he opened his eyes again to reassure himself that McGee was, in fact, okay.
Something on the floor caught his eye, and it was only then that he realized he could freely move to grab it. Gibbs cursed his frail condition, knowing that he was unable to take advantage of no longer being secured to the railing. Just moving his arm out to snatch the small item before him was agony, and he couldn't prevent the small moan which escaped his lips.
"Boss?"
"M'all right," Gibbs wheezed.
McGee didn't respond as Gibbs focused on the small paper in his hand.
"Want to explain this?"
Tim stopped working just long enough to see that Gibbs held half of Sarah's photo in his hand. He shook his head and returned his focus back to the handcuffs.
"Talk to me, McGee."
"I think I've outlived my usefulness."
"What happened?"
Tim ground his teeth and didn't respond. He was nearly there. He just needed a little more time.
"Tim…"
"Boss, please. I can't… I need to do this."
"Did they threaten Sarah?"
McGee's fingers trembled and the small instrument he was using to pick at the lock of his handcuffs fell to the floor. Sighing, he picked it up and began again.
"Did they threaten her, McGee?"
McGee nodded.
"What did you do?"
The question came out with more force than he'd intended, and the harshness of his words caused McGee to wince. Gibbs sighed, knowing that he'd just taken a knife and severed what little that still connected them.
Why was he questioning Tim's integrity? Why was he plagued with this doubt?
Yet, he told himself that this was different than before. He knew that McGee would go to any length to protect his little sister. And the frantic pace at which he was working at freeing himself would seem to point to the fact that something new had transpired.
"McGee…"
"I broke in to WitSec!"
The delicate moment of stunned silence seemed to stretch on forever.
"But I need you to trust me, boss. I… I need you to just trust me that I didn't tell them where Rachel was, okay?"
Tim stopped to look imploringly at Gibbs.
"McGee, I don't…"
"Can you please just trust me right now?"
Gibbs hated the frantic tone in the other man's voice and he could see the desperation in his eyes. He didn't understand what McGee was saying. He broke in, but didn't tell them where Rachel was? Then what exactly did he do?
Gibbs wasn't used to being the one in the dark. Hell, this whole situation was new for him. He usually wasn't the one being forced to implicitly trust someone else for his own survival.
He should have been the one formulating an escape plan.
He should have been the one ensuring his agent's safety.
Yet it was Tim doing all the work, and Gibbs really didn't have a choice.
There were too many questions, but he understood that McGee was not in the right state of mind to answer them. As he looked at the young man, he could see that the sadness had returned, and Gibbs realized that he had remained silent for too long.
"Ah hell, Tim, of course I trust you."
McGee stared past Gibbs and it was as though he didn't believe him. Gibbs held his gaze, wanting him to see the truth of his words.
But he failed.
Tim looked away with a small nod before concentrating once again on the cuffs while Gibbs concentrated on staying awake.
~~~NCIS~~~
The self-doubt was back in full force.
Tim ground his teeth in determination as he tried once again to bend his tool at the correct angle. Getting the right leverage was proving to be a bit difficult, but he was running out of time. How long had it been since Guerrero left? If Tim's hunch was correct, then he only had another hour, two at most, before Victor would realize that he'd been duped.
Tim didn't need to imagine what would happen when Victor returned without his sister-in-law. The last thing Guerrero had said before leaving was a promise of a slow and painful death for both Tim and Gibbs should Rachel not be where Tim said she was.
And of course Rachel wasn't where Tim said she was.
After another failed attempt at the handcuff, Tim sighed and looked over at his boss. He was unconscious again; the crumpled image of Sarah's smiling face lying lax in his hand. Tim felt the blunt hand of reality steal what remaining vestiges of hope he'd harbored.
Tim wondered if he'd always been so foolish, and why it had taken him so long to see.
He wasn't Tony. He couldn't smooth talk his way out of situations. Tony was the reliable one. The tough one. The war horse.
Likewise, he wasn't Ziva. He didn't have her prowess or her seemingly endless abilities. Ziva was the ninja. The capable agent.
Even after all these years, he was still the probie in everyone's minds.
Of course Gibbs would assume that he'd given in.
Tim probably could have explained to Gibbs everything he had done, but that would have taken too much time. He was having enough problems as it was breaking himself out of the damn handcuffs that he didn't think he could spare a single moment.
If Gibbs wanted to continue to think the worst of Tim… fine. He could handle it. He didn't have to be happy about it, but he could handle it.
Tim resumed his work on the lock. It was pure luck that he'd found a piece of motherboard from the computer he'd destroyed when he'd first arrived. It was part of a PCI slot… perfect for bending and shaping into the handcuff's lock. And though he hadn't done something like this in quite a while, he was frustrated at the amount of time it was taking him.
Taking a calming breath, Tim slipped the end in again, and lifted. Finding the latch, he moved it slightly, and then…
"Got it!"
Tim took a moment to rub his sore wrist once it was free before crawling over to his boss. Gibbs looked worse up close, and he could only imagine what his internal injuries were. Tim knew he should evaluate his boss before considering moving him, but there wasn't enough time.
Standing, he moved to the door, quietly turning the handle and finding it locked. He leaned his ear against the cool door, listening for any movement, but hearing nothing. Tim wasn't sure if Victor took anyone with him to get Rachel, but he assumed he'd left behind at least one of his men. Tim turned and scanned the room, figuring he had two options.
One, cause enough ruckus to bring the men inside the room, where Tim could hopefully incapacitate them and he and Gibbs could escape through the front door. In his weakened state, he wasn't sure how effective he'd be in hand-to-hand combat, but he would have the element of surprise on his side.
Option two was a more stealthy escape. Tim pushed away from the door and walked over the boarded window, tentatively pulling at one of the beams. The old wood groaned against the movement, but Tim could see the nails straining to hold position on the wall. Smiling, he pulled harder and the nail popped out and danced across the floor.
"Hold on, boss, we'll be out of here in no time."
The flesh on Tim's fingers tore against the time-worn wood, but still he worked quickly and as quietly as possible. But pulling the wood away from the window was impossibly loud, and it wasn't long before he heard someone approaching from the other side of the locked door. Cursing, Tim looked down. He'd only managed to get one board loose… the opening not at all large enough for them to fit through.
It looked as though he'd have to go with option one.
Picking up the discarded board, Tim crept quickly to the opposite wall just as the door swung open. Gripping the wood like a baseball bat, he held his breath and waited until the man was fully in the room.
He jumped out from behind the door, swinging the wood outward with as much force as he could muster. The other man ducked at the last minute and the beam barely grazed his shoulder. The momentum from the swing carried Tim around in a full circle, and he stumbled.
"You little piece of…"
Tim tried to swing out again, but missed by more than a foot. He was quickly losing his strength as the toll of having no food or water the past few days caught up with him, and the other man easily grabbed on to the end of Tim's weapon. He tugged, and Tim was rapidly pulled forward. With speed that Tim didn't think the larger man capable, he quickly twisted the beam outward, causing Tim's already bleeding hands to scrape along the wood and lose their grip.
Tim fumbled forward, and strong arms gripped his, yanking them behind his back and upward with so much force that Tim heard a distinct pop! in his right shoulder. He cried out in pain, and his knees buckled. The man holding him upright let go, and Tim fell to his knees.
Tim clenched his jaw and concentrated on breathing through the pain as his captor prowled around him. He managed to lift his head slightly, and through watery eyes saw that he was kneeling next to Gibbs' prone form. His breath caught as he looked at his boss, hopelessly wishing he was awake… knowing that the Marine would have been able to carry out this escape attempt with ease and skill.
The shrill sound of a cell phone ringing pulled Tim's gaze away from his boss. With a scowl, the man turned away from Tim before pulling a phone from his coat pocket.
"Yeah."
Tim eased himself back on his haunches and onto the balls of his feet, cradling his injured shoulder. If he could only get to that phone, he could call for help. The US Marshalls could already be on their way, but he had no way of knowing if his earlier plan had worked. If he could get his hands on that phone, he could call Tony, have Abby do a trace, and then…
The sick sound of a safety sliding off had Tim frozen in place. Guerrero's goon was off the phone, and with a murderous gleam in his eye, was descending on Tim with a gun.
"You son of a bitch."
"Was that your boss?" Tim asked with a casual flair. "Didn't find Rachel, did he?"
"Where is she?"
"On the other side of the country." Tim was shocked at how strong his own voice sounded. But he figured if he was going to die, he was going to do it with as much smugness over what he'd accomplished as he could.
"Did you honestly think I was going to lead him to her? You're dumber than you look. And trust me, that's quite a feat."
"You'll get what's coming to you," the other man growled with a sneer. "Guerrero is on his way back, and he ain't too happy with you."
"No, I'm sure he isn't."
"In the meantime, you can say goodbye to your friend here."
There was no time to plan. No time to strategize. No time for anything except pure instinct as the man turned slightly to aim his gun at Gibbs. With a primal yell, Tim launched himself forward and tackled him at the knees, pulling the much larger man down. The gun clattered across the floor, and Tim scrambled after it.
It was a mere few inches away when Tim was tackled from behind and he smashed into the ground, face first. Any remaining air he held was whooshed out of him when the weight of the other man landed heavily on top of him. Everything went fuzzy as he gasped for breath. Still, he struggled for the gun. It didn't matter that his vision was fading and he could hardly breathe. He knew the gun was there… right there… if he could only reach…
"Looking for this?"
Hot breath slurred in his ear as the cold metal of a barrel was pressed against the base of his neck. Tim instinctively froze. For a moment, there was no movement or sound outside of his harsh breathing and racing heartbeat.
"Too bad Guerrero wants you alive." He chuckled. "Agent Gibbs, however…"
The weight on top of Tim shifted, and the cold pressure on his neck was removed. Tim screamed and lurched his body upward as a single gunshot resonated throughout the small space. His sudden movement caused the other man to fly back and he tripped over Gibbs' sprawled legs. Tim was on top of him in an instant, lashing out with his good arm and landing a few solid punches.
He was weak, but it was enough to daze his captor. The other man lifted the weapon, but Tim grabbed his wrist and with as much strength as he could, twisted. There was a large crack and a scream of pain as the gun fell from the man's lax hand. Tim immediately jumped away and grabbed the weapon before rolling on his back and taking aim.
"You won't kill me, Fed."
The man slowly stood, cradling his broken wrist against his chest. He took one step forward, and then another before three shots rang out.
One shot went wide before two hit center mass. The man stumbled a few steps before backing into the wall and sliding down, a slick wet trail of red trailing behind him.
Tim wasn't done. He shakily stood and aimed again, his exhaustion and emotional state causing him to continue to fire as each round slowly leached away his panic. The chamber emptied, but still he pulled the trigger. Again. Again.
"I think he's dead."
The voice was steady, but Tim could easily recognize the pain Gibbs was hiding. Taking a few calming breaths, Tim immediately went to his boss' side. The older man's eyes were barely open, but there was clarity there that Tim was so relieved to see that it nearly brought him to tears.
"Good job, Tim."
A ghost of a smile crossed his face before his eyes slid closed once more. Tim smiled back before half-crawling over to the dead man's still form. Tim swallowed heavily at all the blood, but slid his shaking hand into the man's coat jacket. His heart sank when he found the phone. It was shattered by one of Tim's bullets.
With a heavy sigh, Tim returned to Gibbs' side.
"I'll be right back, boss."
Tim slipped out of the room, quickly clearing the house before returning to the small office and sliding in front of the computer. His hands were still shaking, and he knew his energy was nearly sapped, but he managed to pull up the correct program. Typing one-handed, Tim sent a quick e-mail to Tony, sharing his suspicions of where he and Gibbs were being held, as well as where he had sent Guerrero.
Finally, Tim returned to Gibbs and, gripping his arms, pulled him upright. They took a few faltering steps as Gibbs sagged against him.
"Okay, boss, we gotta go."
Tim flung Gibbs' arm across his shoulders and he hooked his fingers into his belt to drag him out of the room, down the hall, and into the open air. Tim could tell his boss was trying to help propel them forward, but it honestly wasn't much. Still, they made decent progress across the gravel driveway and into the dense forest. Tim risked a glance behind him. The small house was dark… nearly black… and it faded neatly into the darkening landscape beyond.
Focusing forward again, Tim pulled Gibbs further up as they made slow progress among the trees. Tim didn't want to stray too far from the driveway, but they still needed to stay out of sight. Gibbs made a soft sound, and Tim stopped.
"What was that, boss?"
Gibbs' head lifted slightly.
"Where'd ya learn… to break… outta handcuffs?"
"Oh," Tim blushed. "Abby."
It looked as though Gibbs wanted to say more, but Tim began dragging him forward again.
"Don't ask, boss. Just… don't ask."
TBC...