He vaguely registered being gently taken from the chair, and set carefully onto his feet. His vision blurred dangerously, the sudden change in posture proving too much for his addled brain.
He staggered.
They caught him.
They led him slowly down the dank, limp and frozen corridors that served the hell hole he had languished in for so many months.
They were talking, but he didn't register their words. He didn't even register for sure who the others, save for Gibbs, were.
It was still too much of a blur.
Sensing that he was in no position to comprehend even the simplest of speech, his rescuers fell silent, and merely guided him steadily, but carefully through a labyrinth of tunnels.
Tim felt his vision fog up heavily at times, and he would stumble inadvertently. Gibbs' hands never left his shoulders, and he was caught every time.
He just couldn't process what was going on.
He tried, but the very attempt made his stomach heave with a sickening nausea.
He wasn't ready yet.
…and so he walked. Slowly, painfully…but still, he walked.
All of a sudden…. a pain seared behind his eyes as they drank in their change in surroundings.
Their drastic change in surroundings.
His lungs expanded with a gusto, searching for and drinking in the suddenly fresh air that played about his face. His many lacerations seemed to almost stop pulsating with pain as the balmy breeze swept lazily over them.
He faltered.
Heavily.
They caught him.
Softly.
There was a plane in the distance…a small, nondescript, non commercial craft. He felt himself being gently propelled towards it, their voices taking on a tone of urgency as their soft hands continued to project him forwards.
He still didn't comprehend their words, or their serious tones….they were lost to him.
He was just remembering what it was to breathe.
To feed his lungs with its most basic requirement, without wondering when the other foot was going to drop.
His heart instantly lamented that loss of air as he was bundled onto the awaiting transport. Not that the air in the plane was anything like the stagnant air that served the prison, air that was almost viscous in its limpness.
His eyes however, appreciated the additional change, and his vision began to return to some semblance of normality, with blurry shapes rapidly becoming clearer.
He blinked.
Faces swam with a clarity in front of him.
Three faces to be exact, all staring at him from seats opposite him, a range of emotions evident in their gaze that he was in no fit position to discern.
Not right now.
Now whilst his gut was beginning an awful cycle of churning resentment.
Had he really meant that little? Was he really that much of a non entity that putting in an appearance to his life saving rescue was considered to be unnecessary?
Unimportant?
He blinked again, his brows knitting together as he ran a restorative gaze over the three faces.
His voice, still suffering from self enforced apathy, croaked as he forced his protesting lips to open once more.
His throaty, rasping voice made them all wince collectively, but in that moment, he found he couldn't have cared less.
"Where's Tony?" he all but snarled, which was an impressive feat given both his physical and emotional condition.
Flickering gazes were exchanged amongst the three.
Two familiar, oh so familiar faces whitened at his words, whilst another, unfamiliar faze looked on rather impassively.
The reaction of an outsider.
Ziva's gaze rested on Gibbs, clearly communicating in their silent way and Tim felt the anger rise inside him like a raging bush fire.
About to open his abused lips to hurl a tirade at his suddenly muted teammates, he found himself beaten to the punch.
Leaning forward in his seat, so that his knees were practically touching his junior agents, Gibbs' eyes blazed with an awful mixture of fury, fear and rage.
He reached out instinctively, and placed a hand on Tim's knee, who was too intent on securing answers to his friends lack of attendance, to give a damn.
"McGee…" Gibbs murmured quietly, as Ziva looked on apprehensively, "Tony…."
Feeling anger once again lap him, Tim scowled as much as his beaten face would allow.
"Tony…what?" he snapped with a force that surprised even himself, "found himself a date and just couldn't quite bear to let her down?"
Gibbs swallowed and looked down, before forcing himself to look back up and shake his head slowly.
"No McGee" he answered softly, an anguish in his voice that instantly set Tim's nerves and teeth on edge.
There was a moment of deathly silence, before what remained of Timothy McGee's world fell right out from under him.
Before it was ripped right out from under him.
With a force so intense, it made his heart sear with a pain as it jolted into a dangerously rapid beat.
His boss' tortured voice was on par with the horror's he'd heard during Vlada's reign.
"Tim…Tony's been taken too. We don't know where he is…we don't know if he's…if he's alive."
Another gulping swallow was heard, as Tim's mind buckled under the onslaught of information hammering around his fatigued brain.
"He was taken the same night you were."
….
TBC
…
A/N: Plot twist! I regret nothing! ;)
-Inks