The pain hit the second McGee had pulled him to his feet. He didn't pass out, but it was a near thing, as McGee had pulled him from the house and into the evening air. After the briefest of conversations with the young agent, Gibbs hadn't been able to find the energy to say anything else as the two men struggled across the driveway and were engulfed under the canopy of the forest.
It was rough going through the dense foliage and darkening skies, and Gibbs tried his best to help. He moaned each time his foot tripped over an exposed root or wayward rock, and Tim apologized each and every time.
They kept going at a steady pace, Tim obviously trying his best to avoid the obstacles he could see. Early on, Gibbs caught snippets of encouraging words from Tim, but eventually the words ran dry and the sounds of their ragged breathing pierced the relative stillness of the night.
It wasn't for several more minutes of staggering through the woods that Tim's legs gave out and he fell to the ground, pulling Gibbs down with him. Knees wet from the soggy earth and his chest burning from the exertion, Gibbs was grateful for the reprieve. And upon looking at his agent and the pallor of his face, he could see that McGee needed a rest as well.
Looking back over his shoulder, the house was no longer visible as dusk completed its descent. Gibbs knew they were still too close to the house, and he could see his unease mirrored on McGee's face. Tim turned to look at Gibbs, who gave him a small nod of permission. Getting back to his feet, he pulled Gibbs up and they began to move parallel to the house. He wished, not for the first time, that he had the strength to speak to McGee. He questioned the direction they were heading and the proximity at which they stayed by the house. But his injuries left him no option except to be led like a lamb by his shepherd.
A few feet in, Gibbs continued to stumble and once again he nearly fell.
"Almost there, boss. Just a little bit further."
Moments later they were settled behind a large clump of trees, with Gibbs propped against the trunk of the largest. McGee immediately began fussing over him, poking his chest and abdomen, and Gibbs brushed his hands away with a grunt. Tim nodded and sat down, leaning against a tree opposite him, and they fell into a comfortable silence.
Gibbs knew that he drifted in and out of consciousness. Sometimes he'd wake and Tim would be pacing in small circles. Other times, he'd be seated across from him again. But each time, Gibbs could tell that he was hurting as he clutched his right arm close to his body.
"We need to set your shoulder, McGee."
Tim stopped his pacing to briefly look into his eyes. The moonlight passing across his face illuminated a look of terror flashing in them before he carefully schooled his features.
"Are you sure that's a good idea, boss?" Tim asked, unable to keep the small tremor out of his voice.
"Yes, McGee, I do," he replied hoarsely. "The longer we wait, the more likely it is that you can permanently damage it. We have to put it back in. Do you understand?"
McGee swallowed hard, but nodded.
"How?"
"Help me up."
Tim eased Gibbs upward, carefully helping him slide back so he was leaning more vertically against the tree. He allowed a few moments to pass to regain his equilibrium. Once the forest stopped spinning around him, he carefully removed his belt and handed it to McGee, who lifted a single, questioning eyebrow.
"Sling for your arm," he clarified. "And for the pain."
McGee's eyes widened, but he nodded.
"Come in closer."
Tim sat on the ground and scooted closer to Gibbs so they were seated face to face. Gibbs leaned forward, and with another glance at Tim, placed his hands around his agent's forearm. With his other hand, Tim folded the belt in two and slipped it in his mouth, clenching his teeth around the leather.
Gibbs nodded and motioned for Tim to wrap his good arm over his shoulder.
"Grab hold of my shirt."
Tim fisted his hand in the material of Gibbs' shirt and closed his eyes as he mentally prepared himself.
"On the count of three. Are you ready?"
"No," came the muffled reply.
Gibbs smiled.
"Alright, here we go. One…"
Gibbs didn't wait and pushed Tim's arm outward, the younger man screaming as he felt his shoulder slip back into place. He immediately felt some relief, but the effects of the painful process still left him clinging to the back of Gibbs' shirt and panting heavily through the leather belt strap. He barely noticed as his arm was gently maneuvered back into his lap.
He was breathing too heavily to hear Gibbs' words of comfort, but eventually sounds returned and he released the belt from his mouth. Gibbs made a loop and maneuvered it over Tim's head, carefully sliding the injured arm through the circle so it rested against his chest.
"Thanks boss."
"Don't mention it, Tim."
Gibbs eased back against the tree, exhausted. Though he had done very little, even the smallest of movements was an exertion. In front of him, Tim sagged, his eyes still closed.
"Tell me what happened."
Tim didn't move, but opened his eyes.
"With what, boss?"
"You broke into WitSec, but you didn't tell them where Rachel was. Well, Guerrero clearly left, so where did you send him?"
"Silver Spring."
Gibbs raised a single eyebrow at that, waiting for Tim to continue.
"The apartment complex across from mine has been empty for weeks. Some sort of major foundation repair or something. I led him there."
"That was a hell of a risk, McGee."
"I know. But it was the only plan I had. After he told me about Sarah… I…"
Tim trailed off, and Gibbs understood. McGee used the skills he had to pull together a plan as best he could. And not just a plan, but a good plan.
"I also figured out where we were and tried to get that information to the Marshals."
Gibbs sat up straighter.
"How'd you do that?"
"Well, when I was taken, we drove for about three hours… I think. And most of the time the sun was in my face. Well, shining through the hood on my face. Which means we were going west. Three hours puts us someplace in West Virginia. I can't pinpoint an exact location, of course, but I think it's a good bet."
Tim stopped suddenly.
"But I didn't take into account local topography. The changes in elevation would change our distance of travel by quite a bit. What if I was wrong?"
"McGee."
"Yes, boss?"
"How did you get information to the Marshals?"
"Oh…"
Tim shifted and Gibbs could see him working through something. It was a facial expression he was familiar with… one that told him Tim was trying to figure out a way to simplify his computer skills so Gibbs would understand. He smiled.
"Dumb it down for me, McGee."
"Right. Uh… when I was hacking in, I, uh… left my fingerprints everywhere. Usually when I hack into places, I try to be careful."
"This time you weren't."
"Exactly. They should be able to detect the breach, pinpoint where it came from, and-"
"And send out a team," Gibbs finished.
"Exactly. Well, I hope so, anyway."
"And that's why we're sticking close to the house."
Tim nodded and Gibbs' smile grew. McGee noticed.
"What?"
Gibbs shook his head.
"It's just that… after all these years, you still manage to surprise me, McGee."
"Oh." Tim frowned. "Uh, thanks?"
Gibbs smiled.
"Thank you, Tim."
Silence fell on them both as they settled in for the wait. Gibbs mused over his agent's plan while Tim fretted over its flaws. What if Guerrero arrived before the Marshal's did? Or worse, what if he didn't leave enough evidence behind during his viral break-in? Still, if all that had failed, he had sent an e-mail to Tony. Surely that hadn't failed.
Still, there wasn't much he could do now except wait and see.
Unless… unless he went back to the house to be sure. With Guerrero gone with one of his men, and the second one dead, he could easily slip back in and double-check the network connections. Send another SOS. Verify their location.
Tim looked at Gibbs and sighed. He couldn't leave him behind. What if Guerrero returned and came looking for them?
He just wished Tony was here.
"What was that?"
Tim sat up suddenly, realizing he must have said it out loud.
"Oh, uh…" Gibbs could almost feel Tim blushing. "I was just saying that I wished Tony was here."
"Ah."
"Do you?" Tim asked before he could stop himself.
"What?"
McGee adjusted his body so he was facing Gibbs directly.
"I was just wondering if you wished Tony was here, too."
"No," Gibbs answered immediately.
"Why not?"
Gibbs smiled at Tim's question. It was times like these that he was reminded how young his agent was.
"Because Tony would be talking my ear off. Hell, he would have talked Guerrero's ear off and gotten himself killed in the process."
Tim chuckled before falling silent for a moment.
"And Ziva?"
Gibbs thought about that carefully before answering.
"Ziva… well, Ziva is unpredictable. She acts first, and thinks later." A small pause. "I don't think she could have come up with a plan that was any better than yours, McGee."
Tim smiled.
"Thanks, boss."
More time passed, and with each passing moment, Tim was increasingly plagued by doubt. Why was it taking so long? Where were the Marshals? Where was Tony?
He had to go back to the house and try contacting someone again. He must not have done it right the first time.
Tim stood and crept to Gibbs' side. His boss was asleep… again… but seemed to be okay. Tim hated sneak off like this, but he couldn't wake him. If he did, Gibbs would tell him not to go, and Tim would be forced to obey.
"I'm sorry boss," he whispered, and he crept away.
~~NCIS~~
Tim did brief recon of the house before re-entering. While he was certain he would have heard a car returning, he didn't want to take any chances by walking into an ambush. Enough time had passed for Guerrero to return to carry out the vengeance he'd threatened before he left. But the house looked still; the front door still ajar from when McGee and Gibbs had fled.
Tim peeked and crept around every corner until he reached the den where the computer was housed. Confident he was alone, he sat down and began checking the cords and connections. Satisfied all was in order, he reached to turn it on…
… and suddenly stopped, his hand outstretched in midair.
He may not have Gibbs' famous gut, but he knew that something was wrong.
Something was… off.
No… the computer was off, and he clearly remembered not shutting it off in his haste to leave the house behind.
"Agent McGee."
Tim stood quickly and the chair toppled to the floor. Guerrero lurked behind the open door, gun in hand, his aim poised calmly at Tim's chest. He'd been waiting for Tim to return, like a predator stooped in the shadows, waiting for the opportunity to attack its prey.
"You stupid Fed! Did you actually think you'd get away with it?"
Guerrero took a step forward and Tim instinctively took a step back.
"I'm going to kill you."
Another step forward.
"And I'm going to kill Gibbs."
Tim moved back.
"And then I'm going to kill your sister."
Tim made to step back again, but his heel hit the fallen chair, tripping him up and over top of it. Guerrero strode forward, re-adjusting his aim. Tim kicked out at the chair, sending it flying across the floor and knocking it into the other man's legs. He stumbled only for a moment, but it was just enough for Tim to climb to his feet and reach for the gun.
He didn't make it in time.
An explosion of sound rippled through the small room as Tim felt a sudden punch to his gut that left him breathless and sinking to his knees. He could feel the wetness spreading across his abdomen, but he wasn't quite sure how bad it was yet. Falling to his back, he carefully ran his hand along his side, hissing as his fingers brushed against the gaping wound.
His ears still rang from the explosion, yet he could still make out the muted laughter echoing around him.
"Nice try, Agent McGee."
Guerrero stood directly above him and raised the gun towards Tim's temple. He swallowed hard when he recognized that it was Gibbs' gun… the one the team had been unable to locate when Gibbs had initially gone missing.
Tim closed his eyes. He hoped Gibbs wouldn't carry around too much guilt over Tim's death. Or maybe he wouldn't feel any guilt at all. After all, Tim disobeyed a direct order by returning to the black house. Perhaps he deserved to die after leaving Gibbs in the woods… alone. Defenseless.
Another gunshot rang out and Tim's body shuddered. But there was no additional pain, and hope bubbled within him. Could Guerrero have missed?
There was an ominous ringing in his ears, and he couldn't hear much of anything over his harsh breathing. Tim sensed movement, however, and he blinked his eyes open. Double images slowly slid into one figure hovering close above him.
"Tony?"
"Yeah, probie, it's me."
"How…?"
"Just hang tight. Help is on the way."
Tim nodded, though he didn't understand. His eyes started to close, but a sharp pain in his abdomen popped them back open. He looked down to see Tony pushing his over shirt onto his stomach.
"Hurts…"
"A bullet tends to do that."
Tim was tired, sore and cold, and all he wanted to do was sleep. Something told him that sleep was the last thing he should do in a situation such as this, but the allure of unconsciousness was too strong. There, he wouldn't have to worry about the pain. There would be no anxiousness over bleeding out on the floor. He wouldn't have to feel guilty about leaving Gibbs behind…
"Gibbs!" Tim suddenly shouted, leaning upwards and desperately trying to get away from Tony's grasp. "You have to find Gibbs."
"Relax, Tim.."
"No, Tony… Boss… find him."
"Ziva is looking for him, Tim." Tim still wasn't convinced, but Tony smiled. "Hey, if anyone can find Gibbs, it's our ninja, okay?"
Tim leaned back and shook his head, the tears he'd been trying so hard to prevent from falling now making an appearance. He stared hopelessly at the ceiling, regret already consuming him. This hadn't worked out the way he had planned. He was supposed to save Gibbs, not leave him behind.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't apologize, probie."
"Sorry."
Tim closed his eyes again.
"No Tim, stay awake."
He shook his head.
"I screwed up, Tony."
Tony responded with something witty, but Tim was finding it too hard to focus. Another wave of pain crashed against him, and he groaned, shutting his eyes against the world, willing sleep to pull him under the surface.
Two warm hands cupped his face and a soft voice reached his ears.
"Stay awake, Tim."
The hands gave his head a small shake, and Tim fought to open his eyes. Tim heard the simple command, but he could also hear the plea behind it. The fear. Through the fog, Gibbs' face swam into clarity and Tim forced a painful smile.
"Boss… You okay?"
"I'm fine, Tim. And you will be too, you got that?"
A sharp ripple of pain had Tim writhing, but still the warm hands stayed, grounding him. Keeping him in the present.
"Boss, I don't think I'm…"
"No, Tim. Nobody's dying today."
"Except Guerrero."
"Well, he had it coming."
Tim let out a strangled laugh, even though nothing about the current situation was funny. He felt himself drifting once more as he struggled to stay awake. Another spike of pain hit his body and Tim groaned, blinking rapidly to clear away the invasion of black spots swarming his vision.
"You made me proud today, son."
Tim gave a small smile as he was robbed the last vestiges of stored energy, and he felt that it was safe to let go now. He could rest peacefully in the knowledge that his job was finished. Tim hadn't given in to Guerrero's demands. Gibbs was okay. Rachel and Sarah were safe. He'd figured out how to be a brother and an agent.
Above him, he could see Gibbs saying something to him, but he could no longer hear the words. It was painful to see the unfamiliar look of panic on his boss' face, and Tim tried desperately to hold his gaze. He opened his mouth to tell Gibbs not to worry. He wasn't going to let him down. He'd stay awake, and make him proud one more time.
But in the end it was out of his control, and he let go.
TBC...