A/N: Warning! This may be the most disturbing chapter of any story that I have ever written. It's pretty intense! While Tim is stuck in a situation he can't get out of, he's pretty amazing. It will be a few days before I can get another chapter up. Please let me know what you think. Sheila

Surviving Winter

Chapter 6

Every time, Gibbs closed his eyes, he saw that young face with those green eyes looking at him, always ready to do his bidding. In the beginning, he wasn't sure the kid would make it, but here it was almost 8 years later, and McGee still came back for more.

Gibbs took him for granted. This was not a new thought. Gibbs had known this for a long time. McGee made it easy. Given a problem, he'd stay all night, if necessary, to solve it. He didn't have to be pushed. McGee was driven to get things right. More than that, he was driven to find justice for victims. Gibbs merely needed to point him in the right direction.

Gibbs was having trouble getting even the little bit of sleep that he survived on. He felt responsible for McGee. The kid felt like he had something to prove, and Gibbs knew that it was his fault for that. He felt so sure about this that he couldn't even find solace in the work on his boat. He tried bourbon, but he knew that kind of solution was a bottomless pit for him, and so he poured his last bottle down the drain.

He went home at midnight and came back to work at 5 a.m. these days. It was only at work that he felt like he could survive his demons.

It was still early morning when he heard voices coming from the lab. Abby was there on a stool perched in front of her McGee shrine. He stopped at the door and listened.

"Timmy, it's day 48. I miss you something terrible. I just wish you'd come home. It will be different this time. I know now what I'm missing. I know that you're the only one for me."

She stopped for a moment and wiped at her eyes. "I went to church last night. Actually, right now, I'm going every night. The nuns have been meeting me there. You'd like them. I know you've had bad nun experiences, but I know you'd like these ladies. They like you. They've been hearing about you for years."

Gibbs walked up behind her slowly. Abby smiled. "Boss is here, Tim. He's been very sad since you left. I can't ask him about it because he's Gibbs, but I can feel it. I know you don't want him to hurt like that. If you were here, you'd tell him that this was your journey, your decision. You'd tell him that he did nothing wrong."

Gibbs wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder. He didn't say anything.

Abby closed her eyes. "I didn't know how much I care about him. Did you know?"

Gibbs nodded. "I've watched the two of you for a long time. You love each other very much."

"You must've worried. Rule 12."

"No. I never worried. The two of you belong together. I always knew it. You're happy when you're with him. Always happy."

"What if he doesn't come back?"

He sighed. "Abs, we don't think like that. It doesn't send the right energy to McGee. We stay strong. We stay confident."

Abby nodded. "I have to try harder."

"It's okay, Abby. Natural mistake. Just remember that McGee is a fighter. He's not going to give up."

….

McGee was panting heavily. This room had more sunlight. It also had several Taliban men standing around during his questioning. It had been approximately five hours. He'd been measuring the sun as it moved across the sky. He'd estimated the sizes of several objects and used that to create complex calculations in his head. If the need ever arose, he'd be able to describe the inside of this crude desert room with minute detail. He'd estimated the weights and heights of all the men, and then he calculated the distance from which Gibbs could safely kill them with his sniper rifle.

The only time he wasn't devising mathematical problems was when someone was kicking him or asking him more asinine questions. It was the worst interrogation he'd ever been to. They would question him for twenty minutes on something, then beat him for ten, and then they'd wander off to drink tea or text on their dusty cell phones. When they came back, their questions always meandered in unexpected directions. McGee suspected that they were merely keeping up appearances. They seemed to operate with absolutely no urgency.

Late in the afternoon, they left him tied to a chair and wandered outside. He could hear them first debating and then hotly arguing something. He tried to think about escape but he had no strength left. Even if he could get untied, he couldn't stay on his feet. There was an odd rattle that went with the pain in his chest that told him he'd broken ribs. His throat was as dry as a bone. He hadn't had water in a day and a half and his throat felt like dust. After awhile, he rested his head on his shoulder and nodded off.

…..

Dunham was sleeping on the 2nd floor balcony when his phone rang. It was early morning but the air was already radiating like a furnace. Dunham shook the sand out of his beard and answered. "What!"

"You are a sweetheart in the morning, Chad."

"Fornell! Do you know anything?"

"In fact, I am full of information."

"Spill it! I don't know a damn thing. Tried to have Hussain followed, but it's almost impossible in this cesspool of a city."

"Winter is a bastard. There is a unit of 20 communication specialists currently training in Quantico for the skill set that he needs. They've been training for almost 4 months. They have two more months to go. He didn't need McGee to do any training. He was just too damned impatient to wait another few months. He just needed someone in the field. Also found that he pulled the same trick on a FBI cyber agent about two months ago. The man got in country, and was immediately thrown out into the field. FBI director pulled him out within three weeks."

"Wish Gibbs had known that."

"Me too."

"McGee's a brilliant man. Surprised me he let this go so long. He seemed rather deferential of Winter."

"McGee doesn't always see the forest for the trees. He's got a laser focus. I can imagine that he got so caught up in the work that he didn't really stop to think about his own safety."

"He wanted to show Gibbs that he could do this as well as anyone."

Fornell sighed. "I was worried about that. Tony and Ziva are so capable in the field that McGee tends to get overlooked. I'm not surprised he has a chip on his shoulder. Any one of them would swim oceans to prove themselves to Gibbs."

"It's time for me to carry my weight here. Let me see if I can find Hussain's trail today. Are we talking to Gibbs yet?"

"I was going to head over there now. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

…..

Sec Nav was a man who'd witnessed and experienced everything. He'd stared down men harder than Gibbs in the past. All of Gibbs' bulldog ferocity had no impact on him especially through an MTAC screen.

"Special Agent Gibbs, I can appreciate your concerns, but I will not allow an NCIS team to go to Afghanistan now."

"Sir, my team and I all have Middle East experience. We can operate just fine. We'll work through the CIA. We won't inconvenience military operations."

"Winter has filed a formal complaint about you. I am not about to antagonize him further by putting you on the ground there. I understand that you don't think he has sufficiently protected Agent McGee, but the man is doing important work. He's making a difference. And if he needs to be an asshole to get it done, I am more than willing to overlook it. Don't forget that men like Patton were brilliant commanders but complete failures as human beings."

Gibbs sighed deeply. "Yes Sir."

"I'm damned sorry about your man. Vance tells me that he was best of the best. Winter assures me that everything possible is being done to find him. You have to remember that this is a war. There are casualties. As a veteran, I shouldn't have to tell you that."

"No Sir, you don't need to tell me that."

Sec Nav looked at him with tired eyes. "You're the best, Gibbs, but if I have to choose between you and Winter, that bastard is going to win every single time. You understand?"

Gibbs fought the urge to throw something at the screen. Instead, he stood ramrod straight and wished his superior a good day. His only consolation was hearing Brownie curse in the background when the picture faded.

…

The sun had gone down, and a gentle breeze blew on McGee's face. He tried to open his eyes, but one was too swollen. He raised his head. It seemed very silent, and for a moment, he let himself imagine that the Taliban had fled the area. Then the voices arose again, and he knew that nothing had changed. The group of them walked back into the room; most of them standing against the wall staring at him. His interrogators came in as well. Only two of them had spoken English with him.

One of them stepped forward. "We have convened a jury to examine your crimes. You are a civilian disguised as American military. You have engaged in subversive actions designed to destroy Afghani civilians. Your raids have resulted in 16 Afghani deaths. We must send a message to the Americans about this atrocity, and their unwillingness to use proper rules of engagement. Therefore, at sun up, you will be beheaded in the courtyard. It will be filmed and it will be sent to American Infidels."

"No! This is not necessary!" McGee shouted.

Hands were pulling at his ropes, and he was pulled upright. The one speaking to him walked up to his face, "It has been decided. May Allah have mercy on you."

McGee breathed hard. "The Marines with me. They are prisoners of war. They are protected under the Geneva Convention. Tell me that you will adhere to the rules of engagement. Tell me that they'll be safe."

"Why should we follow rules when your own armed forces do not?"

"Please. They are young. They are new. They've committed no crimes. The military will pay to ransom them back. Please."

"A condemned man should not dictate terms."

"Dictate!" McGee snorted. "Dictate! I am begging you."

"Beg for your own life, American."

McGee closed his eyes. "Would it help? The Taliban doesn't respect weakness."

"Americans always beg for their lives."

He shook his head. "Where I come from, there is no begging. If you have any common sense you wouldn't execute an innocent man. Hopefully, you'll come to your senses in the next few hours."

"You won't beg for yourself, but you will for the Marines."

McGee glared at him. "They are young! Just starting out! The world will never understand the Taliban cause if it is only a merciless one."

The Afghani man shook his head and ordered men to put McGee back in the cell. McGee was pushed through the door, tumbling to the ground in the center of the room.

…..

Fornell wandered into the bullpen. Ziva barely acknowledged him, and Tony couldn't even do that. The two of them had clearly exhausted all civil conversation. Neither looked liked they'd been getting much sleep. The dark circles under Ziva's eyes were heavy. DiNozzo wore that mask of anger on his face that promised trouble for anyone seeking a way in.

Fornell sat down at Gibbs' desk. "Where's Jethro?"

"I don't know," Ziva whispered.

Fornell sighed. "I'm sorry about Tim. I think an awful lot of that young man."

Ziva nodded, but Tony ignored him.

"I came to see if there's anything the FBI could offer your team."

Tony rolled his head toward Fornell. "Really? What would that look like? You got somebody over there that could take over for McGee? He's going to need to be pretty special. McGee's hard to replace, you know."

"I know." Fornell typed in his email on Gibbs' desktop.

"Sec Nav won't let us go to Afghanistan to help in the search," Ziva said.

"Not surprised, Ziva. I'm not sure Afghanistan is big enough for Gibbs and Winter at the same time."

"Boss blames himself," Tony murmured. This surprised Fornell. It wasn't like DiNozzo to share with him unless there was no other choice.

"He shouldn't," Fornell said.

Tony glanced at him. "I thought you should know. You're his friend. There might be an outside chance you could reason with him."

"I'll do my best, DiNozzo."

Fornell rubbed at his chin and started responding to email. It took a minute before he noticed Gibbs staring down at him. "Lost your office, Tobias?"

Fornell sat back. "I was waiting for you."

"We're kinda' busy here."

"Oh, I can see that."

"You have something for us?"

Fornell got up and offered Gibbs his chair. "I'm here to offer what I can."

"Not a lot of FBI activity in Afghanistan right now. Can't think what you could do."

"I'm Homeland Security as well, Jethro. In that capacity, I can travel to Iraq or Afghanistan whenever I have the need."

"Sec Nav won't let us go there."

"I'm wondering if anyone would notice if you were travelling as a member of my team."

"You serious, Tobias?"

"It's going to take at least ten days to set it up. Got to cut through a lot of red tape. McGee might be home by then."

Gibbs pointed at him. "You put that request through now! If he's not back by then, I'm going over there to look for him!"

Fornell nodded. "Here's hoping that there's no need to actually go."

Tony stood up. "I want on your team too."

"I don't know," Fornell shrugged. "You and I don't play well in the same sandbox."

"I will go as well." Ziva stood.

"Okay, I'm starting to regret ever showing up here today."

Gibbs sighed. "Do what you can, Tobias. We need to be a part of this for McGee."

Fornell nodded. He looked at Gibbs. There was more to share, but he sensed that Jethro had no place to put it right now. Making him angrier at Winter when he could nothing with it but wait, seemed somehow cruel. He grabbed his coat and left.

…

McGee was propped up against the clay wall again. The Marines were anxious about his condition. With nothing available, they still did their best to keep him comfortable. McGee was in a strange state of shock. He could respond to their questions and concerns, but his mind was focused on his possible execution at dawn. The idea of beheading was grotesque at best, and he struggled to keep his mind from visualizing too much.

They huddled around him asking questions about the day. He answered as best he could, but said nothing about his impending death sentence. It would be too much for them. There would be no space in the room for all of the panic it would trigger.

Finch was especially teary about this. McGee wasn't much older, but he was old enough to represent stability and maturity. Their concern for him was touching. Another Marine, Corporal Miller, was keeping his attention now. There was something about the kid that reminded him of DiNozzo. Kid stayed near the door and was always on his feet when the door opened. McGee noticed how he tried to put himself between the Afghanis and the rest of the Marines.

After a tense hour of fussing, the Marines settled back against the wall. In many ways, McGee wanted only solitude, but he knew that thinking about what was going to happen brought his gut nothing but fear. He tested his dry throat and said, "Anybody here ever been in love?"

"Yes Sir, I have. She had a rockin' hot bod. I couldn't concentrate for months."

McGee forced a chuckle. "Miller, I think you're confusing love with lust."

A blonde kid, still 19, spoke up, "I am not. Fell in love when I was fifteen. We married last year. I think about her every day. It's been hell trying to sleep without her picture next to me."

McGee smiled. "You got it, Reiser. Sounds like true love to me."

Finch looked at him. "What about you, Sir?"

"There's a woman back home named Abby. I fell in love with her almost 8 years ago. At first we were together, but we wanted different things. Still, I work with her every day. We have something very special. I know her better than anyone and she knows me better than anyone. I've tried to move on. I've dated many women, but none of them make me feel like she does. Before I left, she gave me some reason to believe that we could be a couple again. I felt like a million bucks after that. I couldn't wait to see her again."

"You hope to be with her when this is all over?"

McGee felt his eyes welling with tears, and he was glad that the room was dark. "I've never wanted anyone so much in my life."

The room grew silent for a while. Then Miller spoke up, "You think maybe you could tell us some more about Gibbs, Ziva, and DiNozzo?"

McGee grunted. "Let me tell you about the time the Boss almost blew up and he lost his memory."

…..

Hours later, they were all sleeping save McGee. He stared up at the small window, catching glimpses of moonlight. In the last half hour, the night sky had started to fade. Soon it would be dawn. Tears fell down his face freely now. There were so many unfinished things in his life; things that he would never have a chance to experience.

More than that, the tears were for the ones he'd leave behind. Abby would be crushed. He didn't underestimate his meaning in her life, but he was grateful that she had so many special people at NCIS to comfort her. His parents and Sarah would be grief-stricken. As a family, they'd always been so close. Tony would show his grief through anger, and he hoped that the people around Tony would see through to the pain he would be feeling. Ziva would be very sad. There was something ancient about her, a wisdom that grew from years of sorrow. He hated to add to that. As for Gibbs, in some ways, he worried about Boss most of all. He knew Boss was second-guessing his decision to all McGee to go. Losing him would add to his deep well of grief; grief that showed itself every day in his stoicism, his drive, and his silence. McGee had lived for those moments when Gibbs was able to steal a few brief moments of laughter.

Blues and oranges started to emerge in the sky outside. McGee could hold his breath against the hope that they'd found reason in the night hours, but his gut told him otherwise. Several more minutes of silence started to lull him into the idea that all was forgotten, but then he heard the voices and men in the hallway. Across from him, Miller's head jerked up. McGee wiped at his face furiously. Miller started to rise.

"Stay down, Miller. They just want to question me some more."

"Something doesn't feel right, Sir."

McGee sighed. "It might be awhile before I come back. I have a feeling they'll be keeping me in interrogation for some time. You're going to have to be the leader in this bunch. I can see your potential, Miller. You have to be strong. Give them hope. Living with nothing but fear isn't living at all. Do you understand me?"

The Marine nodded. "What's going to happen to you, Sir?"

"I'll be fine, Soldier. Stay focused on your crew here. I need you to take care of them."

The door opened and men came in, grabbing McGee by the arms and pulling him to his feet.

Miller was standing, looking ready to pounce, but McGee caught his eye. "I told you what you needed to do! You gotta' problem with that, Corporal?"

The frightened Corporal shook his head and stayed against the wall.

…

The next minutes felt like an out of body experience. McGee was manhandled plenty, but his mind didn't register the pain. He felt as if he was something of a spectator to the proceedings. He was shoved in a chair and a digital camera was pointed at his face. His chief interrogator appeared. "Say your last words for the camera."

McGee shook his head. Bile rose up in his throat, but he managed to keep from vomiting his panic.

"This is your last chance, American. Tell your loved ones what they need to hear."

McGee shook his head again angrily.

"Come on, American. We want to see your tears. We want you to show us your heart."

"No!" He shouted.

"They will wonder about you. They will want to know what they meant to you."

McGee was able to open both eyes despite the swelling. "My family knows how I feel. My other family at NCIS knows as well. There is nothing more to say."

"Beg for us, American!"

McGee gathered what little moisture was left in his mouth and spit at the camera. Then he was on the ground and someone was kicking him in the belly. Hands grabbed his arms and dragged him across the yard. Men with long blades were sharpening them on stones. McGee did his best to look away. There was a smoothed stone that looked like a stool. McGee was dragged over and pushed over this stone. He was roughly positioned several times. After a few minutes, he stopped struggling. More than anything, he needed this atrocity to end. These were the last moments that Timothy McGee remembered.

….

14