Chapter Twelve
Tim huffed through the dark woods, his breath coming fast. Perspiration slicked his pale face. His new acquisitions hung heavy on his body. The butt of the rifle slung over his shoulder continuously banged his hip, but he made no effort to adjust it more comfortably. The duffel hanging from his back was heavy and cumbersome, but he didn't stop to rest.
Nor did he yet make an attempt to stay quiet. It was quite a hike from the road to the cabin and it would be a little while before he'd be near enough for noise to endanger him.
Tim's mind was focused solely on his forward progress. Only the flashlight in his shaky grip illuminated the obstacles of trees and bushes and stumps and rocks ahead of him. He paid no mind to anything in his way, simply pushing through however he could. If he couldn't go through, he'd go over or under or around, but it was all automatic.
His hands, arms and face sported new scratches and gouges with every step from the unforgiving branches and thorns, several of them bleeding. His clothes were becoming shredded, his shirt flapping and his pants displaying gaping tears, so he began collecting gouges on the other exposed areas of his body, too. The leaf dust and fine dirt coated his face and arms thinly with the help of the layer of sweat. Bits of debris tangled in his already wild hair and wasn't dislodged.
Tim's heart beat fast against his ribs and his breathing was labored. Not in anxiety or anticipation, because his only thought was his forward motion in the right direction. Nothing mattered beyond the next step, and the next and the next. It was because of the exertion. Tim's mindset didn't allow for pacing himself, or for stealth, as he'd been taught so long ago.
He was moving at a fast clip, an almost-jog, barely slowing even to push through the obstacles in his path. It was too fast for the darkness that the flashlight didn't quite relieve, and he stumbled and tripped often. He simply pushed himself up and continued on with no mind to his minor injuries. But mostly it was too fast for his level of exhaustion. He had nothing left, but his mind refused to allow that. He pushed on with no recognition that he shouldn't be able to.
Tim staggered through the woods, his body giving out but his mind driving him on.
Every now and then he glanced at the compass in his right hand and that was the only concession to conscious thought he made.
His heart pounded harder, trying to tell his body that the fatigue, exhaustion and lack of nourishment wouldn't be denied.
His breaths came faster, harder, shallower.
But he didn't have to think until he reached the cabin so he'd save his thoughts for keeping Sara alive.
And he pushed on.
______________________________________
The level of tension in the motel room was almost static.
Ziva sat on the edge of one of the beds and observed her two male counterparts. Tony's shoulders were tense, his jaw set in anger. He moved around curtly with short movements that spoke of his displeasure.
Gibbs' eyes were narrowed as he ignored his junior agent's attitude but the glare in his blue eyes was at it's personal best as he regarded his agents and their two prisoners. Like Tony, his body was stiff with tension.
“Ziva,” Gibbs snapped, “reverse the cuffs on those two to get the blood flowing.” He'd distinctly not addressed Tony, but she hadn't become a Mossad officer by being stupid. She said nothing as she quickly obeyed. She had no intentions of getting in the middle of their disagreement. Both were stubborn and hard headed and no good would come of being a part of it.
The prisoners- Leslie and Paul- both groaned in relief when Ziva released them each one at a time, allowed them to move and stretch for a few moments, then re cuffed them with their hands in front rather than behind them, as they'd been for several hours. Neither one was stupid enough to try anything with her watching closely and the two other agents in close proximity.
The little table in the room was bolted to the wall. She sat them in chairs opposite each other and she secured them each to one of the table legs, ensuring that they both stayed put.
Then she leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms on her chest. She wanted to see which one of her two coworkers would break the silence first. It was no contest, really.
Gibbs had silence down to an art form.
Tony stepped into the tiny bathroom but left the door open. He ran the water in the sink and took a moment to splash his face. He patted dry with a hand towel hanging by the sink but abruptly tossed it to the counter instead of replacing it when he was finished.
Two steps was all it took to return to the main room and when he did, Tony dropped himself angrily down into the one remaining chair in the corner.
He glared at Gibbs, who glared right back.
As Ziva had predicted, Tony was the one that broke the silence.
“If it was one of us you'd smack us into next week,” Tony said tightly. “Especially me.”
“It's not one of you,” Gibbs retorted in a steely voice.
“You'd never let one of us go into the field with nothing to run on, Boss.”
Ziva agreed with Tony. She waited for Gibbs' response.
“I'm not empty yet, DiNozzo,” Gibbs growled and notched up the glare. “And this isn't going into the field. We're going after one of our own.”
“Yeah, we are,” Tony agreed curtly. “But thanks to the sorry excuse for law enforcement here in Deliverance land, we're stuck with tweedle dumb and tweedle dee. Which means one of us has to stay here and watch them while the other two go after McGee. If it were anyone but you, you wouldn't send a halfway functioning agent into the field and leave a fresh one here. Not when you could send two fresh ones out.”
Ziva tensed as Gibbs stepped forward and squared up with Tony. Tony stood up and met the challenge, the men standing almost nose to nose.
Only something this important would give Tony the bravery to withstand Gibbs' usual intimidation techniques.
“Since when do I need permission from one of my agents to do what I think needs to be done, DiNozzo?”
“Since you'd be a liability out there, Boss,” Tony said softly but in all truthfulness. “You're tired. You've been going too long. You have two fresh agents here to do the job and we can do it because you trained us. Don't waste one of us here watching these dipwads so you can go out. You have help now, Boss, and if you go out like you are you'll be a danger to yourself, to us and to McGee.”
Gibbs said nothing, just glared at Tony. Tony withstood it without a word and barely a flinch.
We're wasting time, Ziva decided, and she knew that if Gibbs' concentrations hadn't been compromised, he'd have been the first to realize it and remedy it with a couple of snapped orders. She pushed herself from the wall and approached the two men, looking from one stubborn face to another.
“Tony is right, Gibbs,” she said matter- of-factly. Both men looked at her, breaking the stare. “And we are wasting time,” she added. “McGee is out there, and we will not catch up to him standing here arguing about it. We have to go before he does something stupid.”
Tony and Ziva looked to Gibbs, awaiting his decision. Regardless of how either of them felt about it, or argued about it, it was ultimately Gibbs' decision.
Gibbs jaw clenched for a moment, then he relaxed and looked at his agents standing as a united front.
“Keep your weapons on you,” he ordered in resignation. Tony and Ziva relaxed in realization that Gibbs was giving in and Tony grinned. “We're here to recover McGee and his sister, but prepared to protect yourselves just in case. If he's already at the cabin or he's been made by the suspects, retreat back here unless there is simply no possibility of doing so. Do. Not. Engage. Understand?”
“Yes, Boss,” Tony said immediately, reaffirming his place as Gibbs' junior agent.
“Yes, Gibbs,” Ziva agreed.
“If one of you comes back here injured I'll put my foot so far up your......”
“Got it, Boss,” Tony said quickly to dispel the threat.
Ziva just nodded.
They got the point.
_____________________________________
“I don't like this,” Ziva said to Tony as the two of them hiked through the woods following their flashlight beams. “To go on a search through an unknown environment in the dark.......it's foolish.”
Tony agreed, but he couldn't let Ziva know that. “What do you want us to do, Zee-vah?” he asked sarcastically. “Gibbs was right when he said this isn't just a case. We're here to recover McGee and Sara. We're on our own here, we're not exactly going by the book, in case you haven't noticed. And we have to get McGee before we can worry about Sara.”
“I know that, Tony. It's not that I don't want to find McGee, but.......do you think Gibbs was right in his decision not to gain the help of the officers here? We don't exactly have backup waiting for us to call in this time, Tony. We might need them.”
“What's the matter? You afraid we can't handle it ourselves?” When Ziva didn't bother to retort, Tony lost his joking manner and spoke seriously. “All right, Ziva. I get what you're saying. And maybe we'll recruit the LEOs when it's time to go back in for Sara. But right now Gibbs is still trying to protect McGee, and McGee's job, at least until he sees what's what. A bit of damage control, you know? And besides that, if McGee was the one that broke into that sporting goods store and snatched all those weapons- and we all know he is- then the local cops would be obligated to lock him up. But I can read Gibbs, and he's worried. He wants to see McGee for himself, and keep him close. And I do, too.”
“As do I. But it is still a foolish mission.”
“Not too bad,” Tony assured her. “We know we're heading in the same direction as McGee because we know where he's going, and thanks to the ever helpful Sheriff, we even have the general directions. We're not really looking for him so much as hoping to catch up to him before he does something stupid. And if they're holed up in the cabin, it's not likely we'll run into unfriendlies.”
“No,” Ziva agreed. “Just McGee.”
Tony shot a sharp glance at her in the darkness in response to her indecipherable tone, but she didn't clarify and he didn't ask.
_______________________________________
There it was. The cabin. It wasn't huge, just a moderate-sized wooden structure fitting in well with it's woodsy surrounding.
Lights glowed from the curtained windows but it was quiet. Occasionally a shadow moved in front of one of the illuminated windows but the forms were just silhouettes, nothing definite enough to make out to whom the shadows belonged.
Tim knew he was in the right place. According to the people he'd talked to, this was the only hunting cabin in that particular area. Apparently, the owner liked the space and the solitude when he had a hunting weekend.
Tim crouched down several yards away from the cabin and lowered his rifle and weapons bag to the leafy ground. His breathing was still rough but finally slowing in the time he'd stood and examined the structure. He'd extinguished his flashlight and used the darkness and the plant life to conceal himself as he watched, but there wasn't much chance of anyone seeing him, he knew. It was too dark out there in the woods. The moon reached down through the trees in only a few areas and they were easy to avoid.
It was time to think, to get his brain in gear. Time to rely on his training as much as he could. He wasn't used to one-man operations, so he'd have to make a few adjustments. And be careful. If he got himself killed right off, that wouldn't be any help to Sara.
Tim opened the duffel and rummaged around until he found what he was looking for, then loaded the rifle with the shells he'd pulled out. Then he did the same for his handgun; he was glad he'd had the foresight to grab extra shells for it, as well as a holster. It wasn't conceivable that he'd be successful in keeping the gun in place tucked into his loose pants, not if he had to move quickly.
The next item was a large hunting knife, similar to the one he'd removed from one of the goons earlier that day and tossed into the water. It came complete with a clip on sheath and Tim clipped it next to the holstered gun. Then he reached down and tapped his ankle to feel the reassuring presence of his own knife, the one Gibbs had given him, the one he'd recovered from Jeff's shoulder.
Tim pulled his tired body to a standing position and practiced reaching for the gun and the knife at his hip to make sure both were positioned where he could reach them when he needed them. He had to re-position the hunting knife a little, but then it was perfect.
Next he removed each of the several other weapons from the duffel and loaded the five guns. Then, arms full of weapons, Tim took a half hour to walk slowly and quietly around the cabin, staying far under the dark trees. At random intervals Tim stashed either a loaded gun or large knife. At each place, Tim left a sign that would be obvious to him that it hid a weapon, but that was just for insurance. He made a point to memorize as well as he could, even in the darkness, each place and it's nearest landmarks.
Then he took another hour to do the same thing again, only off into the woods in several directions away from the cabin.
He wanted to be prepared for anything.
Now for the strategic planning.
Tim approached the cabin warily, silently, from shadow to shadow. He crept around the perimeter, staying flat against the wall. He peered into windows and carefully tried both doors, one at the front and one at the back.
The people inside were being either careful or paranoid. The curtains were all thick and covered the windows entirely. Tim could see nothing through them or around them.
The doors seemed to be well secured, as well as he could tell while being careful and quiet.
He'd learned nothing with reconnaissance He had no idea of their weaponry or state of readiness. He'd gotten no glimpse of Sara.
Breathing heavily again from his weapons stashing foray and attempts at peeping, Tim returned to his original hidden spot and settled in for a wait.
He knew this was the hardest part, the waiting, but rushing things could lead to disaster. Tim took up the rifle in his shaky arms and watched the cabin. If he had a chance to take one of them out before he went in, then he would. All he needed was for one of them to step outside. Until then, he would bide his time. But not too long. He didn't know if they were waiting for reinforcements. Ideally, he planned to wait until the lights went out. He wanted to go in quietly, find Sara, and get out.
But if the lights continued burning into the night, he'd go in blazing, if he had to. He'd take out all three of Sara's captors, if needed. And any others, if they were waiting for friends.
But no matter what, he was leaving with Sara.
Tim was only slightly disturbed that the thought of possibly expiring the lives of Sara's captors gave him a sense of satisfaction.
_________________________________________
Gibbs paced the room. He hated this. Hated it.
He wasn't normally a pacer, but neither was he normally the one left behind. He cursed himself for allowing DiNozzo to back him into the corner, for calling him out. But even as he inwardly cursed himself, he was inwardly praising his senior agent. DiNozzo had been right, of course. But that didn't make it easier for Gibbs to bear. And it took balls for DiNozzo to stand up to him that way.
Gibbs had questioned his own ability to go after McGee; he recognized that he'd worn himself down beyond effectiveness. But until DiNozzo had pushed the issue, Gibbs hadn't even considered being the one left behind to wait, unknowing. Wait for them to come back safe. To have McGee with them, or not to. Or not come back at all, if things went badly.
And besides that, this had been Gibbs' mission for the past several days. Over a week he'd tracked and chased McGee across the state and further, worrying about him one minute and wanting to get his hands on him the next. It was hard to step back during what might be the penultimate moment. The capture of his prey, so to speak.
Damn DiNozzo. And thank God he knew what Gibbs needed, and when to push it.
He'd also questioned his own decision not to bring other law enforcement into it yet, but his gut was telling him it would be best to wait. He wanted to assess McGee first, himself.
Gibbs paced back to the window once again, taking a moment to peer out through the curtain. He wanted to call one of them for an update, but by now they'd be well into the woods and on McGee's trail. Maybe near the cabin. A ringing cell phone could give them a way at the worst possible time.
The two men handcuffed to the table watched Gibbs' progress back and forth but he'd ignored them successfully.
Until the dark haired one, Paul, spoke.
“Hey, uh.....you gonna find a place to put us soon?”
Gibbs just glanced at him but didn't bother to answer.
“Yeah,” the other man, Leslie, said. “Who ever heard of a police station without a jail?”
Gibbs grimaced with a bit of irritation. That tidbit of information had been unhappily met by the team.
It wasn't so much that the town didn't have a jail. It was simply that the two jail cells the small station did have were unusable at the present time. One being used for storage or some such thing, and the other in the process of being repaired after plaster had fallen from the ceiling months ago. Apparently, the general lack of local crime had made the town complacent and the repairs were not being handled in any kind of urgent fashion.
“So you're bringing that other agent back here, right? That McGee?” Paul pressed.
Gibbs responded to the man's anxious tone by looking over at him.
Seeing he had Gibbs' attention, Paul clarified. “It's just, uh.....well, we're cuffed here, you know? And when he left us in the woods, he said if he saw us again he'd kill us. We're you're responsibility here, you know. We can't defend ourselves cuffed like this.”
Gibbs just smirked. McGee had definitely made an impression on those two.
________________________________________
Tony held a finger to his lips in the universal 'shh', then pointed to a spot a little ahead of them.
Ziva's eyes followed his finger and spied their target, crouched in the bushes, his back to them. The shirt was in tatters and flapped in the occasional breeze. He stared intently at the silent cabin, a rifle in his hands.
Ziva couldn't see him too well in the darkness or from her position, but there was something about the his tense crouch, the set of his shoulders, that screamed 'be careful'.
Tony must have seen the same thing, because he signaled her to go around while he approached from the front.
It didn't feel right to be circling behind McGee as if her were a dangerous suspect. But it felt necessary.
______________________________________
Tim's tense body was shaking with fatigue, but he pushed it down and held position. He wasn't thinking clearly, he knew that in some deep part of him, but he pushed that away, too. He held his crouched position with no real reason to need to, and he held the rifle straight at the cabin as if he had a target in his sights.
The waiting was getting harder. He wanted to go in, now. But he had to think of Sara. Sara first. Bide his time and go in when it was dark and quiet, unsuspecting. Through a window, if he had to, though that might not be so quiet if he had to bust it. It would ruin the element of surprise, too.
The dark spots that had begun to make an appearances in the corners of his vision were getting stronger, closer, more frequent. His head was getting lighter by the minutes, buzzier with fatigue. The occasional faint feeling. Tim's body was betraying him and he knew it. He not-so-grudgingly realized that he might have to go for broke and go in before he'd planned. He might not be last if he waited too long. Or he might not be of use to Sara if he went in in too bad a shape to accomplish his goal.
He refused to acknowledge that he might very well already be at that point.
A noise to his left drew his attention and he tensed further but didn't whirl around. He moved his head slowly to scan the area the noise had come from.
Nothing at first, then the crack of a twig, the crunch of leafy ground. A shadow detached itself from the deeper darkness.
So. Sara's kidnappers did have reinforcements. His heart sped up, his adrenaline rushed.
Tim whirled, keeping his one- knee stance, and trained the rifle on the shadow that was becoming bigger.
The shadow that was taking on a familiar shape, a well known demeanor.
“Whoa, there, Probie,” the shadow said. “Take it easy. It's just me.”
“Tony?” Tim asked incredulously. His mind couldn't place Tony in his current surroundings. He didn't belong.
“Yeah, me. Who else?” Tony was moving slowly, hands held peaceably before him. Tim realized he still had Tony in his sights and lowered the rifle.
He glanced back at the cabin to insure that there had been no change, then back at Tony. “What are you doing here?” Tim asked. “And where are the others?” He looked around cautiously, awaiting an ambush from his team.
“I'm here to help you, Probie. We know what's going on. We want to help you get Sara back. But not yet. Not right now. First you need to come with me.”
“Where are the others?” Tim repeated insistently. “Where's Gibbs?”
“Take it easy. It's just me, McGee. Gibbs isn't here.”
Half of Tim's mind registered that Tony was speaking to him as he would an irrational victim. Or suspect. And that it didn't sound right that Gibbs wouldn't have come with Tony. Or Ziva either, for that matter.
Then other half, the half that had been growing stronger, only knew that Tony wanted to stop his mission. He said he wanted to help him get Sara back, but in the same breath said that he had to leave.
No. He wasn't leaving, and he didn't need help. This was something that he now knew he had to do alone. Sara was his sister, and this was his mission. He couldn't let them stop him. If he did, he'd lose Sara for good.
The team's found you, Old Tim was trying to rationalize. It's over. They'll help. You can't do it alone and now they're here.
New Tim pushed that plea to the back of his mind and raised the rifle, aimed at Tony.
“Whoa, there, McGee. What are you doing? Take it easy.”
“Just leave, Tony. Please. Just leave. I don't want to do anything drastic but I will. I can't let you stop me. I can't let Gibbs stop me, and he will if I go with you. We both know it.”
“Tim, he's worried about you. We're worried about you. We don't want to stop you, I swear. We want to help you. We're here for you and for Sara. You'd know that if you were rational.”
“Leave Tony. I'm not going with you. Don't make me do something neither of us want.”
Tim's finger tightened on the trigger and his vision narrowed to just the shadow of Tony there before him. He didn't want to do it, but New Tim couldn't let anyone stop him. Anyone.
Tim gasped as an arm snaked around his neck and pulled him against a warm body behind him. A hand seized the rifle, pulled it from his grasp and tossed it aside. It took only seconds, and the arm held him immobile for the crucial moment needed. He had no time to struggle or to use his own training against the woman that had superior fighting skills.
A hand settled on his left shoulder.
“Sorry, McGee,” he heard whispered into his ear.
The grip on his shoulder shifted up to the hollow between his shoulder and his neck, then tightened in a quick painful pinch that caused the darkness to descend rapidly as he lost consciousness.
_____________________________________
Tony took a deep breath in relief at what it seemed they'd avoided when McGee slumped from his kneeling position to the ground as Ziva struggled to lower him gently.
He tried to keep in mind that the Tim McGee he knew would never have held him at gunpoint, never would have hurt him.
McGee's just out of it right now, he kept reminding himself.
He looked at the fallen McGee, then at Ziva. She didn't seem happy at what she'd had to do, but he knew she'd done the right thing. He hoped she knew it, too.
“Great,” Tony groused in a show of lightheartedness. “Now we have to carry him.”
Several minutes later, as Tony and Ziva finally agreed on the best method of transport for their unconscious friend and started on the long trek back, the area of woods around the cabin became silent and empty once more of anything but the wind and the wildlife.
The four occupants of the cabin never knew of the silent surveillance Tim had kept, or of the mild take-down that had happened right outside of the cabin's clearing.
TBC
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Nor did he yet make an attempt to stay quiet. It was quite a hike from the road to the cabin and it would be a little while before he'd be near enough for noise to endanger him.
Tim's mind was focused solely on his forward progress. Only the flashlight in his shaky grip illuminated the obstacles of trees and bushes and stumps and rocks ahead of him. He paid no mind to anything in his way, simply pushing through however he could. If he couldn't go through, he'd go over or under or around, but it was all automatic.
His hands, arms and face sported new scratches and gouges with every step from the unforgiving branches and thorns, several of them bleeding. His clothes were becoming shredded, his shirt flapping and his pants displaying gaping tears, so he began collecting gouges on the other exposed areas of his body, too. The leaf dust and fine dirt coated his face and arms thinly with the help of the layer of sweat. Bits of debris tangled in his already wild hair and wasn't dislodged.
Tim's heart beat fast against his ribs and his breathing was labored. Not in anxiety or anticipation, because his only thought was his forward motion in the right direction. Nothing mattered beyond the next step, and the next and the next. It was because of the exertion. Tim's mindset didn't allow for pacing himself, or for stealth, as he'd been taught so long ago.
He was moving at a fast clip, an almost-jog, barely slowing even to push through the obstacles in his path. It was too fast for the darkness that the flashlight didn't quite relieve, and he stumbled and tripped often. He simply pushed himself up and continued on with no mind to his minor injuries. But mostly it was too fast for his level of exhaustion. He had nothing left, but his mind refused to allow that. He pushed on with no recognition that he shouldn't be able to.
Tim staggered through the woods, his body giving out but his mind driving him on.
Every now and then he glanced at the compass in his right hand and that was the only concession to conscious thought he made.
His heart pounded harder, trying to tell his body that the fatigue, exhaustion and lack of nourishment wouldn't be denied.
His breaths came faster, harder, shallower.
But he didn't have to think until he reached the cabin so he'd save his thoughts for keeping Sara alive.
And he pushed on.
______________________________________
The level of tension in the motel room was almost static.
Ziva sat on the edge of one of the beds and observed her two male counterparts. Tony's shoulders were tense, his jaw set in anger. He moved around curtly with short movements that spoke of his displeasure.
Gibbs' eyes were narrowed as he ignored his junior agent's attitude but the glare in his blue eyes was at it's personal best as he regarded his agents and their two prisoners. Like Tony, his body was stiff with tension.
“Ziva,” Gibbs snapped, “reverse the cuffs on those two to get the blood flowing.” He'd distinctly not addressed Tony, but she hadn't become a Mossad officer by being stupid. She said nothing as she quickly obeyed. She had no intentions of getting in the middle of their disagreement. Both were stubborn and hard headed and no good would come of being a part of it.
The prisoners- Leslie and Paul- both groaned in relief when Ziva released them each one at a time, allowed them to move and stretch for a few moments, then re cuffed them with their hands in front rather than behind them, as they'd been for several hours. Neither one was stupid enough to try anything with her watching closely and the two other agents in close proximity.
The little table in the room was bolted to the wall. She sat them in chairs opposite each other and she secured them each to one of the table legs, ensuring that they both stayed put.
Then she leaned back against the wall and crossed her arms on her chest. She wanted to see which one of her two coworkers would break the silence first. It was no contest, really.
Gibbs had silence down to an art form.
Tony stepped into the tiny bathroom but left the door open. He ran the water in the sink and took a moment to splash his face. He patted dry with a hand towel hanging by the sink but abruptly tossed it to the counter instead of replacing it when he was finished.
Two steps was all it took to return to the main room and when he did, Tony dropped himself angrily down into the one remaining chair in the corner.
He glared at Gibbs, who glared right back.
As Ziva had predicted, Tony was the one that broke the silence.
“If it was one of us you'd smack us into next week,” Tony said tightly. “Especially me.”
“It's not one of you,” Gibbs retorted in a steely voice.
“You'd never let one of us go into the field with nothing to run on, Boss.”
Ziva agreed with Tony. She waited for Gibbs' response.
“I'm not empty yet, DiNozzo,” Gibbs growled and notched up the glare. “And this isn't going into the field. We're going after one of our own.”
“Yeah, we are,” Tony agreed curtly. “But thanks to the sorry excuse for law enforcement here in Deliverance land, we're stuck with tweedle dumb and tweedle dee. Which means one of us has to stay here and watch them while the other two go after McGee. If it were anyone but you, you wouldn't send a halfway functioning agent into the field and leave a fresh one here. Not when you could send two fresh ones out.”
Ziva tensed as Gibbs stepped forward and squared up with Tony. Tony stood up and met the challenge, the men standing almost nose to nose.
Only something this important would give Tony the bravery to withstand Gibbs' usual intimidation techniques.
“Since when do I need permission from one of my agents to do what I think needs to be done, DiNozzo?”
“Since you'd be a liability out there, Boss,” Tony said softly but in all truthfulness. “You're tired. You've been going too long. You have two fresh agents here to do the job and we can do it because you trained us. Don't waste one of us here watching these dipwads so you can go out. You have help now, Boss, and if you go out like you are you'll be a danger to yourself, to us and to McGee.”
Gibbs said nothing, just glared at Tony. Tony withstood it without a word and barely a flinch.
We're wasting time, Ziva decided, and she knew that if Gibbs' concentrations hadn't been compromised, he'd have been the first to realize it and remedy it with a couple of snapped orders. She pushed herself from the wall and approached the two men, looking from one stubborn face to another.
“Tony is right, Gibbs,” she said matter- of-factly. Both men looked at her, breaking the stare. “And we are wasting time,” she added. “McGee is out there, and we will not catch up to him standing here arguing about it. We have to go before he does something stupid.”
Tony and Ziva looked to Gibbs, awaiting his decision. Regardless of how either of them felt about it, or argued about it, it was ultimately Gibbs' decision.
Gibbs jaw clenched for a moment, then he relaxed and looked at his agents standing as a united front.
“Keep your weapons on you,” he ordered in resignation. Tony and Ziva relaxed in realization that Gibbs was giving in and Tony grinned. “We're here to recover McGee and his sister, but prepared to protect yourselves just in case. If he's already at the cabin or he's been made by the suspects, retreat back here unless there is simply no possibility of doing so. Do. Not. Engage. Understand?”
“Yes, Boss,” Tony said immediately, reaffirming his place as Gibbs' junior agent.
“Yes, Gibbs,” Ziva agreed.
“If one of you comes back here injured I'll put my foot so far up your......”
“Got it, Boss,” Tony said quickly to dispel the threat.
Ziva just nodded.
They got the point.
_____________________________________
“I don't like this,” Ziva said to Tony as the two of them hiked through the woods following their flashlight beams. “To go on a search through an unknown environment in the dark.......it's foolish.”
Tony agreed, but he couldn't let Ziva know that. “What do you want us to do, Zee-vah?” he asked sarcastically. “Gibbs was right when he said this isn't just a case. We're here to recover McGee and Sara. We're on our own here, we're not exactly going by the book, in case you haven't noticed. And we have to get McGee before we can worry about Sara.”
“I know that, Tony. It's not that I don't want to find McGee, but.......do you think Gibbs was right in his decision not to gain the help of the officers here? We don't exactly have backup waiting for us to call in this time, Tony. We might need them.”
“What's the matter? You afraid we can't handle it ourselves?” When Ziva didn't bother to retort, Tony lost his joking manner and spoke seriously. “All right, Ziva. I get what you're saying. And maybe we'll recruit the LEOs when it's time to go back in for Sara. But right now Gibbs is still trying to protect McGee, and McGee's job, at least until he sees what's what. A bit of damage control, you know? And besides that, if McGee was the one that broke into that sporting goods store and snatched all those weapons- and we all know he is- then the local cops would be obligated to lock him up. But I can read Gibbs, and he's worried. He wants to see McGee for himself, and keep him close. And I do, too.”
“As do I. But it is still a foolish mission.”
“Not too bad,” Tony assured her. “We know we're heading in the same direction as McGee because we know where he's going, and thanks to the ever helpful Sheriff, we even have the general directions. We're not really looking for him so much as hoping to catch up to him before he does something stupid. And if they're holed up in the cabin, it's not likely we'll run into unfriendlies.”
“No,” Ziva agreed. “Just McGee.”
Tony shot a sharp glance at her in the darkness in response to her indecipherable tone, but she didn't clarify and he didn't ask.
_______________________________________
There it was. The cabin. It wasn't huge, just a moderate-sized wooden structure fitting in well with it's woodsy surrounding.
Lights glowed from the curtained windows but it was quiet. Occasionally a shadow moved in front of one of the illuminated windows but the forms were just silhouettes, nothing definite enough to make out to whom the shadows belonged.
Tim knew he was in the right place. According to the people he'd talked to, this was the only hunting cabin in that particular area. Apparently, the owner liked the space and the solitude when he had a hunting weekend.
Tim crouched down several yards away from the cabin and lowered his rifle and weapons bag to the leafy ground. His breathing was still rough but finally slowing in the time he'd stood and examined the structure. He'd extinguished his flashlight and used the darkness and the plant life to conceal himself as he watched, but there wasn't much chance of anyone seeing him, he knew. It was too dark out there in the woods. The moon reached down through the trees in only a few areas and they were easy to avoid.
It was time to think, to get his brain in gear. Time to rely on his training as much as he could. He wasn't used to one-man operations, so he'd have to make a few adjustments. And be careful. If he got himself killed right off, that wouldn't be any help to Sara.
Tim opened the duffel and rummaged around until he found what he was looking for, then loaded the rifle with the shells he'd pulled out. Then he did the same for his handgun; he was glad he'd had the foresight to grab extra shells for it, as well as a holster. It wasn't conceivable that he'd be successful in keeping the gun in place tucked into his loose pants, not if he had to move quickly.
The next item was a large hunting knife, similar to the one he'd removed from one of the goons earlier that day and tossed into the water. It came complete with a clip on sheath and Tim clipped it next to the holstered gun. Then he reached down and tapped his ankle to feel the reassuring presence of his own knife, the one Gibbs had given him, the one he'd recovered from Jeff's shoulder.
Tim pulled his tired body to a standing position and practiced reaching for the gun and the knife at his hip to make sure both were positioned where he could reach them when he needed them. He had to re-position the hunting knife a little, but then it was perfect.
Next he removed each of the several other weapons from the duffel and loaded the five guns. Then, arms full of weapons, Tim took a half hour to walk slowly and quietly around the cabin, staying far under the dark trees. At random intervals Tim stashed either a loaded gun or large knife. At each place, Tim left a sign that would be obvious to him that it hid a weapon, but that was just for insurance. He made a point to memorize as well as he could, even in the darkness, each place and it's nearest landmarks.
Then he took another hour to do the same thing again, only off into the woods in several directions away from the cabin.
He wanted to be prepared for anything.
Now for the strategic planning.
Tim approached the cabin warily, silently, from shadow to shadow. He crept around the perimeter, staying flat against the wall. He peered into windows and carefully tried both doors, one at the front and one at the back.
The people inside were being either careful or paranoid. The curtains were all thick and covered the windows entirely. Tim could see nothing through them or around them.
The doors seemed to be well secured, as well as he could tell while being careful and quiet.
He'd learned nothing with reconnaissance He had no idea of their weaponry or state of readiness. He'd gotten no glimpse of Sara.
Breathing heavily again from his weapons stashing foray and attempts at peeping, Tim returned to his original hidden spot and settled in for a wait.
He knew this was the hardest part, the waiting, but rushing things could lead to disaster. Tim took up the rifle in his shaky arms and watched the cabin. If he had a chance to take one of them out before he went in, then he would. All he needed was for one of them to step outside. Until then, he would bide his time. But not too long. He didn't know if they were waiting for reinforcements. Ideally, he planned to wait until the lights went out. He wanted to go in quietly, find Sara, and get out.
But if the lights continued burning into the night, he'd go in blazing, if he had to. He'd take out all three of Sara's captors, if needed. And any others, if they were waiting for friends.
But no matter what, he was leaving with Sara.
Tim was only slightly disturbed that the thought of possibly expiring the lives of Sara's captors gave him a sense of satisfaction.
_________________________________________
Gibbs paced the room. He hated this. Hated it.
He wasn't normally a pacer, but neither was he normally the one left behind. He cursed himself for allowing DiNozzo to back him into the corner, for calling him out. But even as he inwardly cursed himself, he was inwardly praising his senior agent. DiNozzo had been right, of course. But that didn't make it easier for Gibbs to bear. And it took balls for DiNozzo to stand up to him that way.
Gibbs had questioned his own ability to go after McGee; he recognized that he'd worn himself down beyond effectiveness. But until DiNozzo had pushed the issue, Gibbs hadn't even considered being the one left behind to wait, unknowing. Wait for them to come back safe. To have McGee with them, or not to. Or not come back at all, if things went badly.
And besides that, this had been Gibbs' mission for the past several days. Over a week he'd tracked and chased McGee across the state and further, worrying about him one minute and wanting to get his hands on him the next. It was hard to step back during what might be the penultimate moment. The capture of his prey, so to speak.
Damn DiNozzo. And thank God he knew what Gibbs needed, and when to push it.
He'd also questioned his own decision not to bring other law enforcement into it yet, but his gut was telling him it would be best to wait. He wanted to assess McGee first, himself.
Gibbs paced back to the window once again, taking a moment to peer out through the curtain. He wanted to call one of them for an update, but by now they'd be well into the woods and on McGee's trail. Maybe near the cabin. A ringing cell phone could give them a way at the worst possible time.
The two men handcuffed to the table watched Gibbs' progress back and forth but he'd ignored them successfully.
Until the dark haired one, Paul, spoke.
“Hey, uh.....you gonna find a place to put us soon?”
Gibbs just glanced at him but didn't bother to answer.
“Yeah,” the other man, Leslie, said. “Who ever heard of a police station without a jail?”
Gibbs grimaced with a bit of irritation. That tidbit of information had been unhappily met by the team.
It wasn't so much that the town didn't have a jail. It was simply that the two jail cells the small station did have were unusable at the present time. One being used for storage or some such thing, and the other in the process of being repaired after plaster had fallen from the ceiling months ago. Apparently, the general lack of local crime had made the town complacent and the repairs were not being handled in any kind of urgent fashion.
“So you're bringing that other agent back here, right? That McGee?” Paul pressed.
Gibbs responded to the man's anxious tone by looking over at him.
Seeing he had Gibbs' attention, Paul clarified. “It's just, uh.....well, we're cuffed here, you know? And when he left us in the woods, he said if he saw us again he'd kill us. We're you're responsibility here, you know. We can't defend ourselves cuffed like this.”
Gibbs just smirked. McGee had definitely made an impression on those two.
________________________________________
Tony held a finger to his lips in the universal 'shh', then pointed to a spot a little ahead of them.
Ziva's eyes followed his finger and spied their target, crouched in the bushes, his back to them. The shirt was in tatters and flapped in the occasional breeze. He stared intently at the silent cabin, a rifle in his hands.
Ziva couldn't see him too well in the darkness or from her position, but there was something about the his tense crouch, the set of his shoulders, that screamed 'be careful'.
Tony must have seen the same thing, because he signaled her to go around while he approached from the front.
It didn't feel right to be circling behind McGee as if her were a dangerous suspect. But it felt necessary.
______________________________________
Tim's tense body was shaking with fatigue, but he pushed it down and held position. He wasn't thinking clearly, he knew that in some deep part of him, but he pushed that away, too. He held his crouched position with no real reason to need to, and he held the rifle straight at the cabin as if he had a target in his sights.
The waiting was getting harder. He wanted to go in, now. But he had to think of Sara. Sara first. Bide his time and go in when it was dark and quiet, unsuspecting. Through a window, if he had to, though that might not be so quiet if he had to bust it. It would ruin the element of surprise, too.
The dark spots that had begun to make an appearances in the corners of his vision were getting stronger, closer, more frequent. His head was getting lighter by the minutes, buzzier with fatigue. The occasional faint feeling. Tim's body was betraying him and he knew it. He not-so-grudgingly realized that he might have to go for broke and go in before he'd planned. He might not be last if he waited too long. Or he might not be of use to Sara if he went in in too bad a shape to accomplish his goal.
He refused to acknowledge that he might very well already be at that point.
A noise to his left drew his attention and he tensed further but didn't whirl around. He moved his head slowly to scan the area the noise had come from.
Nothing at first, then the crack of a twig, the crunch of leafy ground. A shadow detached itself from the deeper darkness.
So. Sara's kidnappers did have reinforcements. His heart sped up, his adrenaline rushed.
Tim whirled, keeping his one- knee stance, and trained the rifle on the shadow that was becoming bigger.
The shadow that was taking on a familiar shape, a well known demeanor.
“Whoa, there, Probie,” the shadow said. “Take it easy. It's just me.”
“Tony?” Tim asked incredulously. His mind couldn't place Tony in his current surroundings. He didn't belong.
“Yeah, me. Who else?” Tony was moving slowly, hands held peaceably before him. Tim realized he still had Tony in his sights and lowered the rifle.
He glanced back at the cabin to insure that there had been no change, then back at Tony. “What are you doing here?” Tim asked. “And where are the others?” He looked around cautiously, awaiting an ambush from his team.
“I'm here to help you, Probie. We know what's going on. We want to help you get Sara back. But not yet. Not right now. First you need to come with me.”
“Where are the others?” Tim repeated insistently. “Where's Gibbs?”
“Take it easy. It's just me, McGee. Gibbs isn't here.”
Half of Tim's mind registered that Tony was speaking to him as he would an irrational victim. Or suspect. And that it didn't sound right that Gibbs wouldn't have come with Tony. Or Ziva either, for that matter.
Then other half, the half that had been growing stronger, only knew that Tony wanted to stop his mission. He said he wanted to help him get Sara back, but in the same breath said that he had to leave.
No. He wasn't leaving, and he didn't need help. This was something that he now knew he had to do alone. Sara was his sister, and this was his mission. He couldn't let them stop him. If he did, he'd lose Sara for good.
The team's found you, Old Tim was trying to rationalize. It's over. They'll help. You can't do it alone and now they're here.
New Tim pushed that plea to the back of his mind and raised the rifle, aimed at Tony.
“Whoa, there, McGee. What are you doing? Take it easy.”
“Just leave, Tony. Please. Just leave. I don't want to do anything drastic but I will. I can't let you stop me. I can't let Gibbs stop me, and he will if I go with you. We both know it.”
“Tim, he's worried about you. We're worried about you. We don't want to stop you, I swear. We want to help you. We're here for you and for Sara. You'd know that if you were rational.”
“Leave Tony. I'm not going with you. Don't make me do something neither of us want.”
Tim's finger tightened on the trigger and his vision narrowed to just the shadow of Tony there before him. He didn't want to do it, but New Tim couldn't let anyone stop him. Anyone.
Tim gasped as an arm snaked around his neck and pulled him against a warm body behind him. A hand seized the rifle, pulled it from his grasp and tossed it aside. It took only seconds, and the arm held him immobile for the crucial moment needed. He had no time to struggle or to use his own training against the woman that had superior fighting skills.
A hand settled on his left shoulder.
“Sorry, McGee,” he heard whispered into his ear.
The grip on his shoulder shifted up to the hollow between his shoulder and his neck, then tightened in a quick painful pinch that caused the darkness to descend rapidly as he lost consciousness.
_____________________________________
Tony took a deep breath in relief at what it seemed they'd avoided when McGee slumped from his kneeling position to the ground as Ziva struggled to lower him gently.
He tried to keep in mind that the Tim McGee he knew would never have held him at gunpoint, never would have hurt him.
McGee's just out of it right now, he kept reminding himself.
He looked at the fallen McGee, then at Ziva. She didn't seem happy at what she'd had to do, but he knew she'd done the right thing. He hoped she knew it, too.
“Great,” Tony groused in a show of lightheartedness. “Now we have to carry him.”
Several minutes later, as Tony and Ziva finally agreed on the best method of transport for their unconscious friend and started on the long trek back, the area of woods around the cabin became silent and empty once more of anything but the wind and the wildlife.
The four occupants of the cabin never knew of the silent surveillance Tim had kept, or of the mild take-down that had happened right outside of the cabin's clearing.
TBC
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