Chapter Text
Chapter One
“You can stand down, Marine. I have the watch now.”
The last words he had heard before collapsing echoed through his mind as Timothy McGee awoke to soft beeps and the rustle of cloth. Slightly further away, he could hear the sound of people rushing about and someone shouted order. It took only a moment for him to realize he was in a hospital. The question was which one. Was he lucky enough to be at Bethesda where he knew his surviving teammates had been taken? He lay still, breathing very carefully, and listened closely to try to find hints as to which hospital he was in.
Getting no clues from the noises outside, Tim cracked his eyes open and carefully scanned what he could see of the room he lay in. An IV snaked its way down to his elbow. A monitor was clipped to one finger. Nothing really unexpected considering the situation. The wrap around his ribs felt different, denser, so he assumed they’d been rebandaged on his arrival. Just on the edge of his vision, a young man in Marine dress blues stood at attention just inside his room. That sight brought him both fully awake and almost vertical. “Who the hell are you?”
“As civilian services are stretched thin, the Commandant has assigned me as your lead PSD, sir.”
“Don’t call me sir.” The protest was automatic, learned from his boss. Why in the hell was the Commandant of the Marine Corps assigning him a Personal Security Detail. Tim blinked several times as his mind struggled to catch up with events. He pushed himself up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He sat there, head in his hands, and forced himself to recall everything. “Why am I getting protection?”
“You’re the star of the hour, McGee.” Ron Sacks sauntered into the room. Behind him, Tim could see a similarly dressed Marine standing just outside the door. “We couldn’t keep your actions out of the news. So, protection...”
“And not Secret Service or FBI because...?”
“I’m surprised you didn’t ask about NCIS.”
“Most of our local people are dead or injured, Sacks.” Tim lifted his head and glared at the FBI agent. “The rest are likely held up by travel delays trying to get here or are assigned afloat. So, again, why not Secret Service or FBI.”
“We’re busy trying to find everyone who helped Dearing. Now that he’s in custody, we found some of his records and it’s a veritable who’s who. Secret Service upped their own protectees details and are assisting us.” Sacks dropped down into the visitor’s chair with a tired sigh. Only then did Tim realize just how exhausted the man looked. “Plus, for some reason, the Commandant’s taken a shine to you.”
“Marines respect those who do their duty in hazardous circumstances.” He shrugged, flinching slightly as he moved, and levered himself to his feet. He considered Sacks for a moment before deciding to consciously copy his father’s manner. Tim shifted his attention to the Marine still standing in the room. He might not like it, would in fact soon hate this, but if the Commandant deemed him to need protection, he wasn’t going to countermand the orders yet. He drew a single deep breath to steady himself before he consciously gave an order to the man. “I need to speak to my physician before locating my teammates.”
“Yes, sir.”
Tim watched as the Marine pivoted in place before stepping out the door to confer with his counterpart outside. A soft chuckle from Sacks had him glancing over at the other agent in question. “What?”
“You adapt quick.”
“I’m channeling my father. Who, by the way, will never let me live down that a McGee is being protected by Marines.” Tim leaned back against his bed and rested his hands on it. “I’m the son of an Admiral, Sacks. I know what it means to be protected. I don’t like it. I’m going to protest to the higher ups as soon as I can, but I do know what it means.”
“That’s good to know, sir.” His Marine walked back into the room holding the door open for Tony’s personal doctor, Brad Pitt, to follow him inside. He continued to hold the door while looking pointedly in Sacks direction. Tim decided to spare everyone any continuing awkwardness.
“Go, Sacks.” He pointed at the door. “Get some rest. You look half dead.” Tim waited until Sacks started out the door before he called after him. “Ron... thanks for what you did today.”
A nod answered him. Tim understood why there were no words exchanged between them now. They were members of the ArmFed – family of sorts – and when one is harmed, all are harmed. Tim made a mental note to check up on Sacks in a couple of days. He waited for the door to close behind him before shifting his attention to Brad. He still remembered one of those unwritten rules his father taught him back when he was a teenager and chafing at being protected: the PSD do their job best by being ignored. “So, how am I and how’s the team?”
Brad looked pointedly at the Marine who’d donned that classic ‘I am not here’ look that all Marines seemed to prefect at some point in their careers. Tim chuckled and tapped Brad’s shoulder to get his attention back. “Pretend he’s not here. He won’t repeat anything he hears. It’s a violation of the ethics of a PSD to do so. If I remember correctly, the Personal Security Details always know the best gossip yet never say a word even under the most creative tortures devised by willful eight year olds.”
“Eight year olds?” Brad pointed at the bed in silent order. “Let me check your vitals then I’ll explain everything.”
“My sister.” Tim almost laughed but held his ribs as they protested. He settled on the gurney and nodded to Brad. “She knew, from hearing Mom talk to the other ladies on base, that the details knew things. She tried everything she could to get them to talk to her. You haven’t seen anything until you’ve seen a PSD stoically standing there doing his duty while draped in pink crepe paper and silly string.”
A muffled chuckle escaped Brad but it was the eyes only grin from his own detail which brought a smile to Tim’s lips. He knew then that the story of his sister’s tortures had made the rounds as had his father’s punishments for his daughter. Once he had realized that he couldn’t ditch the detail and that they wouldn’t gossip about anything he did as long as he obeyed their instructions, Tim had come to enjoy the protection from bullies their presence provided. Losing the detail on going to MIT had been a shock to his system. Of course, during those years the detail had been Navy enlisted men. He knew the Marines were even more focused on their jobs.
“All right, Tim.” Brad’s voice brought him out of his thoughts. “Bruised and fractured ribs on your left side. Several deep bruises including one that if it gets darker or you have any additional pain from I want to see you again. And you’ve wrenched your left shoulder.”
“What bruise?”
“Here.” Brad’s fingers pressed once against a particular spot on Tim’s upper left thigh. He yelped in pain and clenched his hands tightly. “It’s directly in line with the surgical scars you have there.”
“I didn’t break it again, did I?”
“No.” Brad shook his head and tossed the folder in his hand down beside Tim. “Very badly bruised all the way down to the bone but no breaks or fractures. If it worsens...”
“I know the drill, Brad.”
“Thought you might.” Brad tapped the folder with one finger. “Discharge papers already signed. Also, notes on your teammates. Tony is in Ziva’s room in ICU. Gibbs is still in surgery but will be in ICU soon.” The doctor paused for a moment. “I’m sorry about Abby. I know you were close.”
“Thank you.” Tim nodded once. He couldn’t allow himself to mourn Abby yet. Unless something changed drastically, he was the senior-most member of NCIS based on rank rather than tenure, and had to manage the agency until someone was appointed to take over for him. Instead, he focused on his team. Once he knew how they were, he could make some decisions on how to proceed. “How are they?”
“I shouldn’t...”
“Brad.” One word but he put all of his newly found strength and courage into it. He’d learned how to command first from his father and then from Gibbs. “Tell me.”
“Tony’s on cautionary breathing treatments because of dust. We don’t need him developing problems with his scarred lungs.” Brad gathered up the folder and flipped it open. “Ziva’s in an induced coma while she’s assessed but she has broken ribs, several fractured vertebra, and possible partial paralysis.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah. Not good with her. We all know she’s going to chafe at being forced to be still.” Brad nodded his agreement. “As for Gibbs, he arrived conscious but barely responsive. He has a closed head injury with minor brain swelling. That will be treated with drug therapy unless it worsens. Both legs are broken in multiple locations as is one hip. Truthfully, based on what I was told of his rescue and location in the building, he’s damned lucky to be alive.”
“Gibbs won’t see it that way.” Tim hopped down from the gurney again and held his hand out to Brad. He glanced down at the combination of dusty black jeans and scrub top he wore and shrugged. It would do until he could get home and change into something else. “All he’ll see is that his surrogate daughter died instead of him.”
“Which will make his recovery more difficult.”
“I know. I’ll get through to him.” He accepted the folder and glanced around the room. “Where is my backpack and jacket?”
“Here, sir.”
His Marine opened a small closet Tim hadn’t noticed before and retrieved both items from within. He held them out to Tim.
“Thanks.” Tim slipped on the jacket and draped the bag over his good shoulder. “We’re going to ICU first before anything else. I need to check on my team.” He started toward the door then stopped to look back at Brad. “Brad? Do they know to tell me about Gibbs?”
“Already set up. I’ll be up soon to check on Tony. I have a few patients to deal with here first.”
“Thanks.” Tim headed out the door and paused by the Marine, no, Marines, stationed outside. He looked at the three men and sighed tiredly. “All right. I know why I’m stuck with you. I don’t like it. I’m an armed Federal agent used to protecting myself. I’m going to bitch about this a lot for a while.” He gave all three a faint smile. “One of you find me a secure cell phone. I need it asap. I’m headed for ICU.” With that, he strolled off toward the elevator. He had a ‘brother’ to reassure and a ‘father’ to slap some sense into before he could take up his next duties.