Nine
Gibbs saw the headlights illuminate the window but he didn't move. Tony knew he was waiting for them and would correctly assume he'd left the door unlocked for them.
Gibbs had known almost from the beginning that Tony would join him, and probably Ziva, too. Besides the fact that he knew how his people thought, Abby couldn't keep a secret from him. It was his team that often kept him in line as much as he kept them in line, and Gibbs had known they wouldn't let him run off on his solitary hunt for long. The were all worried about McGee and wanted a part in the search, and besides that, Tony would be worried about Gibbs himself. Gibbs knew that. Tony and Ziva had done exactly what Gibbs had expected, but not what he wanted them to know he expected. He couldn't let them think he condoned ignoring his orders. It was one of the things that kept them sharp and made them all a good team. Gibbs gave the orders and they followed them. They had to know his expectations or they couldn't function as the team they were. And it also meant his team knew the seriousness of any situation, which was imperative for a good agent. It gave them the experience of making decisions that might have consequences later, but were important enough to risk it. It taught them to make such choices, and they would all need that later if any one of them ever led their own team.
And besides that, Gibbs didn't like to be disobeyed. He had rules for a reason. He had to make sure they remembered that. It wasn't the fact that they'd come to join him that had pissed him off, so much as the fact that they'd blatantly ignored the most important rule he'd taught all his agents. Even Abby knew and followed the all-important rule.
Gibbs sat in a chair by the bed, looking deceptively calm when his agents opened the door and walked in, but the second the door clicked shut behind Ziva, he was on them.
The speed with which he advanced on them was obviously unexpected. Gibbs invaded their space, advancing forward step by quick step, forcing them backward until DiNozzo's back was against the wall. Ziva had avoided being pinned under his gaze against the wall by taking a smooth sidestep at the last moment, but Gibbs wasn't going to let her off the hook so easily. She was as much a part of it as DiNozzo was. Gibbs' hand reached out and tugged her into place next to DiNozzo, her space as well as her partner's now being invaded to within inches. Other than to tug Ziva into place, he hadn't had to lay a hand on them. His presence and his glare were enough.
Gibbs knew having someone almost chest to chest, nose to nose to you was an uncomfortable position that usually put defenses up, and he knew it was a small hint at their respect for Gibbs and his authority that they allowed it. Not that he'd give them a choice, of course, but all of his team were quite able to take care of themselves. They would have never stood down to accept such a thing from anyone else, even if that person had the same skills or level of intimidation as Gibbs. Even if that person were someone of authority. Authority didn't automatically breed respect, and his people knew that. Respect was something that was earned, and you had to work at it to keep it.
“Hiya, Boss,” DiNozzo said nervously, trying hard to avoid the blue eyes inches from his own.
“Rule number one, DiNozzo,” Gibbs demanded, his tone made of steel.
“Boss?” DiNozzo stuttered. That trait was characteristic for DiNozzo only when facing Gibbs' anger.
“What. Is. Rule. Number. One.”
Tony opened his mouth to speak, but Ziva's voice piped up first.
“Never be unreachable,” she answered, then added a hasty, “Boss,” when Gibbs' eyes shifted the tiny bit needed to train her in his sight. Gibbs knew she was making an attempt to show her respect, because she tended to call him Gibbs instead of 'Boss' most of the time. It was understood to his team that, though the formality belied the affection in the name- and the pride that they were the only ones allowed to call him that- the word Boss replaced Sir under most circumstances.
Well, that and because she didn't argue. She was a good one for arguing her defense. That was good most of the time; one needed to stand up for oneself and one's beliefs. Arguing would have made this situation worse, however, and Gibbs was glad Ziva recognized that.
“What she said,” Tony interjected quickly with a weak smile that quickly disappeared when Gibbs focused back on him. “I meant, uh.....never be unreachable, Boss. Rule number one. Got it.”
“Do you, DiNozzo? Because it sure doesn't seem like it. How many times did I call you....both of you “- here, his eyes flickered between them, “- and neither of you bothered to answer.”
“We are.....I am sorry, Gibbs. It was a mistake and it shouldn't have happened.”
Tony glared at Ziva for her obvious attempt to speak for herself instead of both of them and offered his own apology. “It won't happen again, Boss. It was a stupid thing to do.”
“Damn right, it was,” Gibbs growled into their faces. “Neither one of you are probies. This is the kind of stunt some immature, inexperienced kid fresh from the academy would pull. Not two of my team, because my team knows better. Agents that are on my team, and expect to stay on my team, know the importance of that rule.”
“Yes, Boss.”
“Yes, Gibbs.”
Gibbs voice lowered to that quieter, more serious tone that he knew let his agents know he meant business. “I will say this one time only, because I never thought I'd have to to either one of you. This will not happen again. For any reason. Have I made myself very clear?”
“Yes, Sir,” Tony said respectfully, his eyes meeting Gibbs' before returning to the floor. After a small hesitation, Ziva repeated him. Gibbs said nothing about the fact that they'd both used the usually forbidden title. Some things just called for it, and he knew they were trying to convey as much respect as they could in the one word. He took it at face value and in the way it was intended.
Gibbs stepped back and hid a smile as the two took almost identical breaths of relief. “Good,” he said. “Now give me your phones.”
Tony's eyes widened a little at the order. He knew better than any of them how inventive Gibbs could get when he was out to teach his agents a lesson of some sort. His mind flashed back to the 'PDA and NCIS cap' incident he and Kate had suffered through during a lesson at the shooting range a few years ago.
“Boss?” Tony questioned, his usual stalling tactic.
Ziva hesitated as well, an inquiring look on her face.
Gibbs responded to Tony's question with a sharp head-slap and Ziva offered her phone quickly, hoping to avoid the same. Gibbs was a little more sparing with head-slaps to the women, McGee and DiNozzo taking the lion's share, but it was always a possibility, and Gibbs was glad to see that Ziva remembered that.
DiNozzo rubbed the back of his head and unclipped his phone from his belt. His face was sullen when he relinquished it to his boss. “When can we have 'em back, Boss? 'Cause, you know, I'm waiting for calls from a couple of girls I gave my number to last week......but of course that doesn't matter, Boss. Keep it as long as you want.”
Gibbs smirked at DiNozzo's quick turnaround, which had come about as the result of a patented 'Gibbs-stare'. “I will,” he informed his senior agent dryly.
Gibbs tossed both phones into his duffel, which was on the bed, then pulled two plastic packages from it. He tossed one package to each of the agents.
Tony and Ziva examined the little packages, quickly realizing what they were. Both looked up at Gibbs in dismay, Tony much more so than Ziva.
“C'mon, Boss. Really?”
Ziva just sighed.
“Until you two can re-learn what 'never be unreachable' means, you don't deserve to have your phones. You can have 'em back when you've earned em.”
“But.....pre-paid phones, Boss?”
“Get 'em programmed, then call Abby and Ducky with your new numbers, no one else. Then both of you call my phone so I'll have it.”
“Yes, Boss,” Tony said reluctantly.
Ziva said nothing, but she busied herself with cutting the stubborn plastic open with her knife.
“Uh....Boss?”
“What, DiNozzo.”
“I almost forgot. We've got a little gift for you, too.”
The woman stood up quickly, her tire iron gripped tightly in two fists. She threw a quick glance to the little boy and baby in the car then back to Tim's approaching figure. The downpour had already soaked both of them and the woman's hair hung limp and plastered to her head. Tim knew he had to tread carefully so as not to let things get out of hand. A scared mother protecting her children from harm was the most dangerous creature of all.
Tim stopped a few feet away- within talking distance under the rain and thunder- and held his hands up peaceably. That un-Tim-like smile that had become so easy never faltered. There was confidence in Tim's stance, no unsureness in his smile. He didn't know what kind of picture he presented to the woman, soaking wet as he was, bruises on his face and filthy clothes, but he knew he could make her see past all that with his smile and bearing, with the right words and tone of voice. Old Tim, having been pushed aside by New Tim, was frightened of that fact, because he knew that the friendly show was an act for the woman's benefit, to gain her trust. New Tim was a good actor, and he was hiding his true intention like a pro.
“It's okay,” Tim called to the woman. “Just saw you trying to change your tire, thought you might need help.”
The woman's eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Thanks, but I'm okay.”
“You sure? Looked like you were having trouble.”
She bit her lip, clearly nervous and uncertain. She glanced again at her children in the dark car, but it was a quick look. She seemed afraid of taking her eyes off Tim.
She's right to be afraid, Old Tim realized. Don't do this, Tim, he tried telling himself. It's important to find Sara's trail, but there are other ways. This isn't you.
Yes, it is, he argued with himself, New Tim to Old Tim. This is me now, and it has to be that way. It's the only way to save Sara. To become like those that I'm hunting.
As if from afar, Old Tim watched himself in dread as New Tim continued the act.
“It's okay,” Tim tried to reassure the woman in a calm tone. He moved a few steps closer. “I know you have to be careful, but I'm not out to hurt anyone. I just thought you might need help. I mean, you're stuck out here in the dark, in a storm, and it looks like with a couple of kids. I'm a federal agent.”
“Let me see your badge,” the woman demanded.
“Sure.” He just hoped he still had it after his run through the woods and his tussles with Mutt and Jeff; he hadn't thought to check. His mask never slipped, but he was relieved when his fingers felt it's familiar shape and texture when he reached for it. He flipped it open and extended it out for the woman's view, but she clearly couldn't see it through the rain, so he tossed it to her lightly. She caught it easily, but kept the tire iron raised with the hand left holding it while she squinted to inspect the id in the dark and rain.
“NCIS? I've never heard of that.”
“Naval Criminal Investigative Services,” he answered. “Special agent Timothy McGee.”
“Badge number?”
Tim smiled at her thoroughness, but he couldn't really blame her for her precaution. Too bad she doesn't know I'm one of the ones she should be watching out for, Tim thought to himself. He was filled, for just a quick second, with something he'd never really experienced before, not to that extreme. Arrogance. Tim knew she was falling for the deceptive charms he'd never before posessed, and he looked at her through eyes that were cool. He felt that he could do anything, make anything happen. He felt smarter than her in a way that had nothing to do with his high IQ. Superior. He was playing her for his own uses, and the woman had no idea. Tim McGee was becoming something he'd always loathed.
And he liked it. Part of him, anyway.
He rattled off his memorized badge number and watched as her defenses fell. Bingo!
She tossed his badge back to him, then held out the tire iron. “The lugnuts are on too tight,” she explained wearily. “I can't get them off.”
Tim took the lug-wrench from her and smiled wider. “No problem. I'll have you fixed up in no time. A woman stranded with her two kids...... you can't be too careful out here.”
Tony smirked at the two men handcuffed in the chairs. He didn't envy them. Tony had found himself on the other end of 'Gibbs-stares' often enough to know what it was like, and those stares were the ones meant for his agents, whom Gibbs liked.
Not for the first time, Tony was immensely grateful that he'd never have the unfortunate displeasure of being on the other end of a 'Gibbs-interrogation-stare'. It was well known throughout NCIS, parts of the FBI that they'd had the dubious pleasure of working with, and amongst several past-criminals now doing time that Gibbs' interrogations for the truth could be as brutal as the American law allowed (and don't even get Ziva started on that subject). And those brutal and intimidating interrogations were just in the course of the job, Gibbs' quest for the truth.
But anyone incarcerated in the interrogation room that might have, in some way, put one of Gibbs' people in danger were the unluckiest of the unlucky. Tony had seen it himself and watched many of the interrogations in glee. He enjoyed the shows. Intimidation and cunning were the only weapons Gibbs was allowed to use in the course of an official interrogation, and the former marine used those weapons well. Tony had gotten the sense, however, that when one of Gibbs people had been threatened by the one being interrogated, Gibbs held back only with a strong effort, only barely managingto follow the laws and procedures put in place by NCIS and the government that were there to protect the prisoner. Or suspect, as the legal department would insist they be called until they were charged.
But these men not only probably had info of some sort about the team's missing comrade, but might have very likely threatened or hurt McGee in some way.
And this interrogation wasn't taking place in the monitored and secure safety of NCIS.
Both men's faces shone with a sheen of nervous perspiration and the blond hulk of a man- Leslie- was......
Tony looked closer; was the man's lip quivering? It was! The man seemed to have lost his sarcastic attitude and was quickly becoming a large, quivering, sweaty bundle of nerves.
The typical response to a Gibbs interrogation.
It probably didn't help that Gibbs was crouched down, his face inches from Leslie's with those intense eyes staring into the blonde's, and Gibbs' fingers tight around Leslie's throat.
It was easy to see it was a tight grip, because Gibbs' five fingers indented the skin and the man's neck was tinted white where Gibb's was gripping, but Tony knew Gibbs had impeccable control. Nothing would happen that Gibbs didn't mean to happen; no accidental deaths, say, or a ruptured larynx.
The man wouldn't really be hurt, Tony was telling himself.
Well.....not by accident.
“How about now?” Gibbs was asking Leslie. “Is it coming to you yet? Is that faulty memory of yours being jogged? Where....is.....Timothy......McGee!”
“You can't do that,” the dark haired prisoner – Paul- objected from his seat next to Leslie. “That's not legal! You're federal agents!”
Ziva stepped quickly around behind Paul, leaned forward to see his face, and said “ I'm not. Not really. But you know that, don't you? You must, if you know all about us.”
Tony smiled. While he had chosen to simply watch the show- for now- Ziva had chafed to take an active part. The prisoners had missed the inquiring glance she'd shot Gibbs and Gibbs' imperceptible nod of permission, but Tony hadn't. Ziva had been impatient to participate, as she usually was, but Gibbs had warned her before they'd brought the men in that she had to watch herself. There was only so far they could take it, even outside of legal parameters, and impatient as she'd been, she'd paced herself, obligated to wait until the Boss allowed it. But Paul opening his mouth had been the perfect cue; she would keep him occupied so he couldn't try coaching his partner while Gibbs was attempting to extract information.
Unfortunately for Paul, Ziva had already made quite an impression on him in the woods, and at her insinuating words, his face paled visibly and he became markedly more nervous with her behind him.
And she's not even hurting him, Tony thought. The Mossad agent was simply resting her hands on the man's shoulders, but he was silent and pale, hyper-tuned to her presence behind him. Ziva was quite knowledgeable about mind games as a torture technique. She'd once explained to Tony that one's biggest enemy was one's own imagination, and he saw this as proof. He had no doubt Paul was remembering Ziva's small display of knife-play in the woods.
Tony shook his head in silent derision. For two men that looked and acted so tough, those two didn't have much to be proud of under pressure.
“Okay,” Leslie gasped, trying to shrink away from Gibbs' face, “Okay! We don't know for sure where he was headed, he was followin' someone, you know? It was just our job to grab him and take him to our bosses. But after he tied us...... uh, after he got away from us, he looked at a text on his phone that he got earlier, and he said the words 'Harlan, Kentucky'. I guess he's goin' there, but that's all we know.”
Gibbs slowly released Leslie's throat, but he didn't move his face from the other man's. “If I find out you're lying-”
“I'm not. That's all I know, I swear.”
“Well, maybe all you know about where Tim's going. We'll also want to know everything about your bosses,” Tony pointed out, not moving from his spot against the wall.
“What did you mean, Tim read a text? Someone texted him?” Gibbs flicked a glance at Tony, then back to Leslie, but Tony knew what the brief glance meant. As he knew Gibbs wanted, he called Abby and confirmed what she'd mentioned before, that Sara's phone had been sending texts before the signal had been lost for good. Before they disconnected, Abby happily gave Tony the news that she'd managed to gleen the phone number of Tim's prepaid phone. There was also a signal to follow, but it was spotty, and often disappeared for periods of time before showing up again. Abby attributed it to the fact that it was simply a cheap, prepaid knock off.
When Tony tuned back into Gibbs' interrogation, he was amused at what he heard.
“So you're telling me,” Gibbs was saying incredulously, “that Tim actually got a text while you had him in your custody, tied up in the back of your car, and he told you it was his watch alarm?”
“Yeah, so?” Leslie asked defensively. Paul had the sense to at least looked embarrassed, though he stayed silent under Ziva's subtle threats.
Gibbs just shook his head.
Tony pushed himself away from the wall and went up to stand next to Gibbs. “There's a chance, Boss, that McProbie has a good Samaritan out there helping him.”
“What makes you think that, DiNozzo?”
“Boss, we found these guys tied to trees in the woods, stripped of all the weapons they were complaining about, their faces beat up.....someone overpowered them and worked them over, Boss, but good, then tied them up.”
“Wasn't no good Samaritan,” Paul finally piped up. “It was the agent. Tim McGee. He just got the upper hand.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Tony interrupted, his hands in the air as if to hold off any more claims. “You're telling me that McGee, our McGee, tall, baby-faced blond guy.....that he overpowered you two hulks, beat you up, then tied you to a tree?”
“It's his fault,” Paul accused with a nod at Leslie. “He was supposed to watch him closer.”
“How was I supposed to know he was gonna take off like that?”
“His hands were tied, you idiot! It shouldn't have been hard to keep him close!”
“Maybe he was tied, but that didn't stop him from sticking that knife in your shoulder, did it?”
“Yeah? Well what about when we finally caught up to him? You had the gun on him, and he still beat the crap outta you,” Paul reminded his blond partner. Neither of the prisoners seemed to notice the three agent's amused eyes bumping back and forth between the speakers as if they were watching a tennis match.
“He knocked it out of my hand with that branch! I coulda used you help then, too, Paul, but you were too busy rolling around on the ground.”
“Whadda you expect? He kicked me in the head! It took a few minutes to recover.”
“That's enough,” Gibbs insisted. He didn't raise his voice, but his tone had that quality that insisted people listen. Both men swallowed their forthcoming words and turned their heads to Gibbs. “So the bottom line is, McGee took you two out on his own? With his hands tied?”
“That's my boy,” Tony said quietly, suddenly proud. Ziva was grinning at the thought, and Gibbs seemed amused and proud at the same time, but Tony wondered at the look of worry in his boss' eyes.
“Yeah,” Leslie confirmed, “and he stole our weapons, too, so NCIS owes us a few thousand dollars. There's no telling what he did with 'em all.”
“I don't think you'll be needing weapons, or money, where you're going. Tony, Ziva, get our bags to the car, then get something to eat while you can. We'll be leaving soon, and we won't be stopping for awhile.”
“Harlan, Kentucky, Boss?” Tony asked.
“Yep,” Gibbs said, then leaned down close to Leslie's face again. “Now.....about your bosses.”
Tim stood up and swiped a hand across his face to clear his vision of the still-falling rain.
“There you go,” he said. “All better.”
“Thanks,” the woman said, coming around the front of the car to meet him. Even in the storm, she'd refused to wait in the car with her children as Tim changed the tire. She seemed to feel the need to keep her eyes on him, and Tim wondered if she sensed he wasn't only good intentions.
Tim held the tire iron out for her to take, and when her hand closed around it, Tim pulled hard, just enough to cause her to stumble toward him.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her feet from the muddy ground, then tossed the tire iron away in favor of grabbing the gun at his back.
“Don't hurt me,” the woman pleaded. “Please.”
“I don't want to hurt you,” Tim said to her, barely recognizing his own voice. “I won't hurt you as long as you do what I say.”
“Oh, God,” the woman sobbed, clearly assuming on her own what a strange man might want from her. “Please, I won't fight you if you just.....take me where my kids won't see, and promise not to hurt them. Please.”
Tim's heart wrenched at the fear and desperation in the woman's voice, but even as his arms loosened a tiny fraction, his heart hardened.
Stop being a wuss! New Tim demanded, and Tim's arms tightened around her again, and she sobbed, clearly seeing it as an aggressive move on his part. You can do this, Tim, he coached himself. You're not gonna hurt her if she does what you want.
For a quick second, that soothed Tim's guilt and he raised the gun with the intention of scaring her. His hand stilled halfway there, though, as a thought hit him. The woman gasped as the gun was held directly in her line of sight, having stopped before being brought to her head as intended, but she clearly thought it was being shown to her as a threat. Tim was oblivious to her gasp or her ceasing struggles, hit with the intensity of the thought that had come to him.
If she does what you want, Tim repeated to himself. And what if she doesn't? What then? Is that when you jump off the deep end and put a bullet in her head? You can't do this!
Yes you can, he argued with himself, New Tim regaining possession of his mind. You can do whatever you have to do, for Sarah. She's all that matters.
But she shouldn't be, Tim reminded himself, even as his body began moving.
Tim pulled the woman back against him tighter still, her feet held off the ground by his height, and he placed the muzzle of his gun against her temple. The rain hid the tears he knew were on her face, but the fear wasn't hidden in her voice.
“Please,” she sobbed once, then said nothing else, but her body was shaking, and it wasn't from the late-summer storm. Tim's mind tried to tell him, over and over, that it wasn't right, what he was doing; he was supposed to be the protector, for God's sake! He had his job for a reason. He wanted to help people, not hurt them.
But every time, Sara's face popped into his head, quelling the inner argument, and New Tim would harshly remind himself that he had to do what he had to do. I haven't let anything get in my way up to now. I'm certainly not gonna let my own hangups stop me!
“I'm not gonna hurt you,” Tim stressed again. “I just need your car. That's it.”
He moved toward the vehicle, still holding her tight, until he reached the back door. He holstered his gun to reach for the handle.
“No!” the woman screamed, struggling for the first time “No! Don't you touch them!”
Tim almost dropped her, but used both arms to hold her tight. He held her against him, but her arms and legs were flailing, not completely without purpose. He took several knocks in the face from her elbows and fists and both shins would be mightily bruised later, he knew.
Before unwinding one arm from her waist to gain control of her arms, Tim spied the little moon face of the little boy, pressed against the backseat car window, staring through the rain-sheeted glass at his mother's struggle. The baby behind the boy, in the car seat, was oblivious, but the boy's face showed fear and he was shouting something unintelligible.
Tim tore his gaze away from the boy, not liking what it was doing to his resolve to carry through.
I'm officially the bad guy, Tim realized, and he felt as if he could sob right along with the mother and her child. From this day forward, I will always be in the memory of that little boy as the bad man that he thinks is hurting his mom. I'll be the scary shadow in the rainy night, and he'll remember my face in his childhood nightmares.
Tim pushed that terrible revelation from his head and turned his attention back to the matter at hand. He quickly regained control of the woman's arms and held them down firmly. He lowered his head to speak directly in her ear.
“Stop it,” he hissed. “Stop it. I'm not going to hurt you or your kids. I just want the car. That's all.”
The woman seemed to forcibly calm herself, taking several deep breaths. Her hair was rain-plastered to her face, obscuring her features.
“Just the car?” she asked tremulously. “You won't hurt my kids?”
“Just the car,” he confirmed. “I won't touch them. I'll let you go so you can get them out, but don't you go anywhere. I have a gun.”
Tim felt smaller than small as he reminded her of his weapon, making the threat clear. The woman, however, responded with a bit of sarcasm, which was quite admirable in her situation.
“Go anywhere? Where would I go? Anyway, I wouldn't run and leave my babies with you!”
That was true, and Tim realized he hadn't been thinking as clearly as he'd though he was. The whole drama had probably been unnecessary. Most likely, a flash of the gun and a command to remove the children from the car would have gotten the job done. There was nowhere out there, in the middle of nowhere and after dark, that the woman could have gotten to to report the car theft before he would have been long gone, and as she'd said- she wouldn't have left the children. She would have done what he wanted to protect her kids, even if it meant being stranded without her car.
Tim realized with a jolt that there had been no need for him to restrain her, or put his hands on her at all, and he wondered how far he would have taken it. As if her body had burned him, Tim dropped the woman to her feet and pulled his arms away, taking a couple quick steps backward. Just in case she decided to try anything.
“Get them out,” Tim ordered her abruptly. She hastened to the back door and yanked it open as Tim walked around and opened the the driver's door and climbed behind the wheel. He turned in his seat to better see her clearly as she climbed across the seat to extract the baby from the car seat. She had to be directly behind him to do so, and he didn't relish the idea of a knock on the back of the head or something.
You're low, Tim, he berated himself. Even in his mind, the tone was disgusted. You're the lowest of the low. You're putting a mother, a small child and a baby out on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, at midnight, in the middle of a storm.
Oh, stop it! New Tim interjected. You're not hurting them. They'll be fine.
Tim pulled away, headlights showing the way, leaving the mother and children behind in the rain and dark.
It was the next thought that brought him back to himself. So this is what you've become.
Tim slammed on the brakes, the car skidding a little on the rain-slicked road, and finally coming to an abrupt stop in the middle of the road.
What the hell was he doing? He'd just put that mother and her children out on the side of the road! His parents would be ashamed, Sara would be appalled and guilt-ridden that he'd done these things for her. And Gibbs......that didn't even bear thinking about, and Tim quailed inside at the idea of hearing what Gibbs would have to say on the matter. Gibbs was already going to have plenty to say when he had to arrest Tim for the things he'd done; no need to add fuel to the fire. He hoped the rest of the team never found out. He couldn't imagine what they thought of him by now, their former friend and teammate seemingly gone rogue, but Tim desperately hoped they didn't find out about this, his lowest deed ever.
Tim reversed the car and slowly traversed backwards to his starting position, his heart shriveling in shame at the fear of the woman when she saw him returning. She clutched her children to her and backed away, looking around in desperation for help that wasn't there.
Tim hated himself more than ever at that moment.
He slammed the car into park and emerged quickly, hoping to forestall the woman trying to flee.
“Wait,” he called to he as she retreated backwards with the children. “I'm sorry! I'm not gonna hurt you, I swear. You can have the car back. I'm so sorry.”
He waited for her but, not unexpectedly, she didn't approach him. He didn't blame her; in her mind, he was a dangerous man, and she had her children to protect.
He would have like to soothe her, make her trust him, make her realize he wasn't who she though he was, but he knew it wasn't feasible. So instead, Tim reached into the car and grabbed her purse, which had still been sitting between the seats when he'd taken it. Feeling like a heel, Tim rooted around in the purse while the woman watched, until he found what he was looking for.
He pulled her cell phone out, dropped it to the wet ground, and smashed it with his heel.
“I'm sorry,” he said to her again. “I had to. Just to give me a chance to get away. I understand if you report me in the next town or when you get home, but I just need a head start. I know you probably won't believe this, or understand, but I'm desperate. I'm so sorry I scared you. I'll just leave. You can have your car back.”
The woman said nothing, just clutched her children and stared. Tim figured this would probably be in her books as the scariest and strangest encounter she'd ever had. Tim wanted to make her understand, but he couldn't spare the time, and anyway, he knew he didn't deserve her forgiveness. So instead of apologizing a hundred more times as he wanted to, he slunk off into the dark rain, thoroughly ashamed of himself. He heard the car start several minutes later and squeal away, and he knew the terrified woman had waited until his form was well out of sight.
Time to find an unoccupied car, Tim told himself as he trudged through the mud under his feet. He tried to push the fear of himself to the back of his mind; he had other things to worry about, like getting to Harlan, Kentucky. But he couldn't help but wonder what would happen when the day came that he couldn't bring himself back to his senses when his new, baser nature took over.
TBC
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Gibbs had known almost from the beginning that Tony would join him, and probably Ziva, too. Besides the fact that he knew how his people thought, Abby couldn't keep a secret from him. It was his team that often kept him in line as much as he kept them in line, and Gibbs had known they wouldn't let him run off on his solitary hunt for long. The were all worried about McGee and wanted a part in the search, and besides that, Tony would be worried about Gibbs himself. Gibbs knew that. Tony and Ziva had done exactly what Gibbs had expected, but not what he wanted them to know he expected. He couldn't let them think he condoned ignoring his orders. It was one of the things that kept them sharp and made them all a good team. Gibbs gave the orders and they followed them. They had to know his expectations or they couldn't function as the team they were. And it also meant his team knew the seriousness of any situation, which was imperative for a good agent. It gave them the experience of making decisions that might have consequences later, but were important enough to risk it. It taught them to make such choices, and they would all need that later if any one of them ever led their own team.
And besides that, Gibbs didn't like to be disobeyed. He had rules for a reason. He had to make sure they remembered that. It wasn't the fact that they'd come to join him that had pissed him off, so much as the fact that they'd blatantly ignored the most important rule he'd taught all his agents. Even Abby knew and followed the all-important rule.
Gibbs sat in a chair by the bed, looking deceptively calm when his agents opened the door and walked in, but the second the door clicked shut behind Ziva, he was on them.
The speed with which he advanced on them was obviously unexpected. Gibbs invaded their space, advancing forward step by quick step, forcing them backward until DiNozzo's back was against the wall. Ziva had avoided being pinned under his gaze against the wall by taking a smooth sidestep at the last moment, but Gibbs wasn't going to let her off the hook so easily. She was as much a part of it as DiNozzo was. Gibbs' hand reached out and tugged her into place next to DiNozzo, her space as well as her partner's now being invaded to within inches. Other than to tug Ziva into place, he hadn't had to lay a hand on them. His presence and his glare were enough.
Gibbs knew having someone almost chest to chest, nose to nose to you was an uncomfortable position that usually put defenses up, and he knew it was a small hint at their respect for Gibbs and his authority that they allowed it. Not that he'd give them a choice, of course, but all of his team were quite able to take care of themselves. They would have never stood down to accept such a thing from anyone else, even if that person had the same skills or level of intimidation as Gibbs. Even if that person were someone of authority. Authority didn't automatically breed respect, and his people knew that. Respect was something that was earned, and you had to work at it to keep it.
“Hiya, Boss,” DiNozzo said nervously, trying hard to avoid the blue eyes inches from his own.
“Rule number one, DiNozzo,” Gibbs demanded, his tone made of steel.
“Boss?” DiNozzo stuttered. That trait was characteristic for DiNozzo only when facing Gibbs' anger.
“What. Is. Rule. Number. One.”
Tony opened his mouth to speak, but Ziva's voice piped up first.
“Never be unreachable,” she answered, then added a hasty, “Boss,” when Gibbs' eyes shifted the tiny bit needed to train her in his sight. Gibbs knew she was making an attempt to show her respect, because she tended to call him Gibbs instead of 'Boss' most of the time. It was understood to his team that, though the formality belied the affection in the name- and the pride that they were the only ones allowed to call him that- the word Boss replaced Sir under most circumstances.
Well, that and because she didn't argue. She was a good one for arguing her defense. That was good most of the time; one needed to stand up for oneself and one's beliefs. Arguing would have made this situation worse, however, and Gibbs was glad Ziva recognized that.
“What she said,” Tony interjected quickly with a weak smile that quickly disappeared when Gibbs focused back on him. “I meant, uh.....never be unreachable, Boss. Rule number one. Got it.”
“Do you, DiNozzo? Because it sure doesn't seem like it. How many times did I call you....both of you “- here, his eyes flickered between them, “- and neither of you bothered to answer.”
“We are.....I am sorry, Gibbs. It was a mistake and it shouldn't have happened.”
Tony glared at Ziva for her obvious attempt to speak for herself instead of both of them and offered his own apology. “It won't happen again, Boss. It was a stupid thing to do.”
“Damn right, it was,” Gibbs growled into their faces. “Neither one of you are probies. This is the kind of stunt some immature, inexperienced kid fresh from the academy would pull. Not two of my team, because my team knows better. Agents that are on my team, and expect to stay on my team, know the importance of that rule.”
“Yes, Boss.”
“Yes, Gibbs.”
Gibbs voice lowered to that quieter, more serious tone that he knew let his agents know he meant business. “I will say this one time only, because I never thought I'd have to to either one of you. This will not happen again. For any reason. Have I made myself very clear?”
“Yes, Sir,” Tony said respectfully, his eyes meeting Gibbs' before returning to the floor. After a small hesitation, Ziva repeated him. Gibbs said nothing about the fact that they'd both used the usually forbidden title. Some things just called for it, and he knew they were trying to convey as much respect as they could in the one word. He took it at face value and in the way it was intended.
Gibbs stepped back and hid a smile as the two took almost identical breaths of relief. “Good,” he said. “Now give me your phones.”
Tony's eyes widened a little at the order. He knew better than any of them how inventive Gibbs could get when he was out to teach his agents a lesson of some sort. His mind flashed back to the 'PDA and NCIS cap' incident he and Kate had suffered through during a lesson at the shooting range a few years ago.
“Boss?” Tony questioned, his usual stalling tactic.
Ziva hesitated as well, an inquiring look on her face.
Gibbs responded to Tony's question with a sharp head-slap and Ziva offered her phone quickly, hoping to avoid the same. Gibbs was a little more sparing with head-slaps to the women, McGee and DiNozzo taking the lion's share, but it was always a possibility, and Gibbs was glad to see that Ziva remembered that.
DiNozzo rubbed the back of his head and unclipped his phone from his belt. His face was sullen when he relinquished it to his boss. “When can we have 'em back, Boss? 'Cause, you know, I'm waiting for calls from a couple of girls I gave my number to last week......but of course that doesn't matter, Boss. Keep it as long as you want.”
Gibbs smirked at DiNozzo's quick turnaround, which had come about as the result of a patented 'Gibbs-stare'. “I will,” he informed his senior agent dryly.
Gibbs tossed both phones into his duffel, which was on the bed, then pulled two plastic packages from it. He tossed one package to each of the agents.
Tony and Ziva examined the little packages, quickly realizing what they were. Both looked up at Gibbs in dismay, Tony much more so than Ziva.
“C'mon, Boss. Really?”
Ziva just sighed.
“Until you two can re-learn what 'never be unreachable' means, you don't deserve to have your phones. You can have 'em back when you've earned em.”
“But.....pre-paid phones, Boss?”
“Get 'em programmed, then call Abby and Ducky with your new numbers, no one else. Then both of you call my phone so I'll have it.”
“Yes, Boss,” Tony said reluctantly.
Ziva said nothing, but she busied herself with cutting the stubborn plastic open with her knife.
“Uh....Boss?”
“What, DiNozzo.”
“I almost forgot. We've got a little gift for you, too.”
The woman stood up quickly, her tire iron gripped tightly in two fists. She threw a quick glance to the little boy and baby in the car then back to Tim's approaching figure. The downpour had already soaked both of them and the woman's hair hung limp and plastered to her head. Tim knew he had to tread carefully so as not to let things get out of hand. A scared mother protecting her children from harm was the most dangerous creature of all.
Tim stopped a few feet away- within talking distance under the rain and thunder- and held his hands up peaceably. That un-Tim-like smile that had become so easy never faltered. There was confidence in Tim's stance, no unsureness in his smile. He didn't know what kind of picture he presented to the woman, soaking wet as he was, bruises on his face and filthy clothes, but he knew he could make her see past all that with his smile and bearing, with the right words and tone of voice. Old Tim, having been pushed aside by New Tim, was frightened of that fact, because he knew that the friendly show was an act for the woman's benefit, to gain her trust. New Tim was a good actor, and he was hiding his true intention like a pro.
“It's okay,” Tim called to the woman. “Just saw you trying to change your tire, thought you might need help.”
The woman's eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Thanks, but I'm okay.”
“You sure? Looked like you were having trouble.”
She bit her lip, clearly nervous and uncertain. She glanced again at her children in the dark car, but it was a quick look. She seemed afraid of taking her eyes off Tim.
She's right to be afraid, Old Tim realized. Don't do this, Tim, he tried telling himself. It's important to find Sara's trail, but there are other ways. This isn't you.
Yes, it is, he argued with himself, New Tim to Old Tim. This is me now, and it has to be that way. It's the only way to save Sara. To become like those that I'm hunting.
As if from afar, Old Tim watched himself in dread as New Tim continued the act.
“It's okay,” Tim tried to reassure the woman in a calm tone. He moved a few steps closer. “I know you have to be careful, but I'm not out to hurt anyone. I just thought you might need help. I mean, you're stuck out here in the dark, in a storm, and it looks like with a couple of kids. I'm a federal agent.”
“Let me see your badge,” the woman demanded.
“Sure.” He just hoped he still had it after his run through the woods and his tussles with Mutt and Jeff; he hadn't thought to check. His mask never slipped, but he was relieved when his fingers felt it's familiar shape and texture when he reached for it. He flipped it open and extended it out for the woman's view, but she clearly couldn't see it through the rain, so he tossed it to her lightly. She caught it easily, but kept the tire iron raised with the hand left holding it while she squinted to inspect the id in the dark and rain.
“NCIS? I've never heard of that.”
“Naval Criminal Investigative Services,” he answered. “Special agent Timothy McGee.”
“Badge number?”
Tim smiled at her thoroughness, but he couldn't really blame her for her precaution. Too bad she doesn't know I'm one of the ones she should be watching out for, Tim thought to himself. He was filled, for just a quick second, with something he'd never really experienced before, not to that extreme. Arrogance. Tim knew she was falling for the deceptive charms he'd never before posessed, and he looked at her through eyes that were cool. He felt that he could do anything, make anything happen. He felt smarter than her in a way that had nothing to do with his high IQ. Superior. He was playing her for his own uses, and the woman had no idea. Tim McGee was becoming something he'd always loathed.
And he liked it. Part of him, anyway.
He rattled off his memorized badge number and watched as her defenses fell. Bingo!
She tossed his badge back to him, then held out the tire iron. “The lugnuts are on too tight,” she explained wearily. “I can't get them off.”
Tim took the lug-wrench from her and smiled wider. “No problem. I'll have you fixed up in no time. A woman stranded with her two kids...... you can't be too careful out here.”
Tony smirked at the two men handcuffed in the chairs. He didn't envy them. Tony had found himself on the other end of 'Gibbs-stares' often enough to know what it was like, and those stares were the ones meant for his agents, whom Gibbs liked.
Not for the first time, Tony was immensely grateful that he'd never have the unfortunate displeasure of being on the other end of a 'Gibbs-interrogation-stare'. It was well known throughout NCIS, parts of the FBI that they'd had the dubious pleasure of working with, and amongst several past-criminals now doing time that Gibbs' interrogations for the truth could be as brutal as the American law allowed (and don't even get Ziva started on that subject). And those brutal and intimidating interrogations were just in the course of the job, Gibbs' quest for the truth.
But anyone incarcerated in the interrogation room that might have, in some way, put one of Gibbs' people in danger were the unluckiest of the unlucky. Tony had seen it himself and watched many of the interrogations in glee. He enjoyed the shows. Intimidation and cunning were the only weapons Gibbs was allowed to use in the course of an official interrogation, and the former marine used those weapons well. Tony had gotten the sense, however, that when one of Gibbs people had been threatened by the one being interrogated, Gibbs held back only with a strong effort, only barely managingto follow the laws and procedures put in place by NCIS and the government that were there to protect the prisoner. Or suspect, as the legal department would insist they be called until they were charged.
But these men not only probably had info of some sort about the team's missing comrade, but might have very likely threatened or hurt McGee in some way.
And this interrogation wasn't taking place in the monitored and secure safety of NCIS.
Both men's faces shone with a sheen of nervous perspiration and the blond hulk of a man- Leslie- was......
Tony looked closer; was the man's lip quivering? It was! The man seemed to have lost his sarcastic attitude and was quickly becoming a large, quivering, sweaty bundle of nerves.
The typical response to a Gibbs interrogation.
It probably didn't help that Gibbs was crouched down, his face inches from Leslie's with those intense eyes staring into the blonde's, and Gibbs' fingers tight around Leslie's throat.
It was easy to see it was a tight grip, because Gibbs' five fingers indented the skin and the man's neck was tinted white where Gibb's was gripping, but Tony knew Gibbs had impeccable control. Nothing would happen that Gibbs didn't mean to happen; no accidental deaths, say, or a ruptured larynx.
The man wouldn't really be hurt, Tony was telling himself.
Well.....not by accident.
“How about now?” Gibbs was asking Leslie. “Is it coming to you yet? Is that faulty memory of yours being jogged? Where....is.....Timothy......McGee!”
“You can't do that,” the dark haired prisoner – Paul- objected from his seat next to Leslie. “That's not legal! You're federal agents!”
Ziva stepped quickly around behind Paul, leaned forward to see his face, and said “ I'm not. Not really. But you know that, don't you? You must, if you know all about us.”
Tony smiled. While he had chosen to simply watch the show- for now- Ziva had chafed to take an active part. The prisoners had missed the inquiring glance she'd shot Gibbs and Gibbs' imperceptible nod of permission, but Tony hadn't. Ziva had been impatient to participate, as she usually was, but Gibbs had warned her before they'd brought the men in that she had to watch herself. There was only so far they could take it, even outside of legal parameters, and impatient as she'd been, she'd paced herself, obligated to wait until the Boss allowed it. But Paul opening his mouth had been the perfect cue; she would keep him occupied so he couldn't try coaching his partner while Gibbs was attempting to extract information.
Unfortunately for Paul, Ziva had already made quite an impression on him in the woods, and at her insinuating words, his face paled visibly and he became markedly more nervous with her behind him.
And she's not even hurting him, Tony thought. The Mossad agent was simply resting her hands on the man's shoulders, but he was silent and pale, hyper-tuned to her presence behind him. Ziva was quite knowledgeable about mind games as a torture technique. She'd once explained to Tony that one's biggest enemy was one's own imagination, and he saw this as proof. He had no doubt Paul was remembering Ziva's small display of knife-play in the woods.
Tony shook his head in silent derision. For two men that looked and acted so tough, those two didn't have much to be proud of under pressure.
“Okay,” Leslie gasped, trying to shrink away from Gibbs' face, “Okay! We don't know for sure where he was headed, he was followin' someone, you know? It was just our job to grab him and take him to our bosses. But after he tied us...... uh, after he got away from us, he looked at a text on his phone that he got earlier, and he said the words 'Harlan, Kentucky'. I guess he's goin' there, but that's all we know.”
Gibbs slowly released Leslie's throat, but he didn't move his face from the other man's. “If I find out you're lying-”
“I'm not. That's all I know, I swear.”
“Well, maybe all you know about where Tim's going. We'll also want to know everything about your bosses,” Tony pointed out, not moving from his spot against the wall.
“What did you mean, Tim read a text? Someone texted him?” Gibbs flicked a glance at Tony, then back to Leslie, but Tony knew what the brief glance meant. As he knew Gibbs wanted, he called Abby and confirmed what she'd mentioned before, that Sara's phone had been sending texts before the signal had been lost for good. Before they disconnected, Abby happily gave Tony the news that she'd managed to gleen the phone number of Tim's prepaid phone. There was also a signal to follow, but it was spotty, and often disappeared for periods of time before showing up again. Abby attributed it to the fact that it was simply a cheap, prepaid knock off.
When Tony tuned back into Gibbs' interrogation, he was amused at what he heard.
“So you're telling me,” Gibbs was saying incredulously, “that Tim actually got a text while you had him in your custody, tied up in the back of your car, and he told you it was his watch alarm?”
“Yeah, so?” Leslie asked defensively. Paul had the sense to at least looked embarrassed, though he stayed silent under Ziva's subtle threats.
Gibbs just shook his head.
Tony pushed himself away from the wall and went up to stand next to Gibbs. “There's a chance, Boss, that McProbie has a good Samaritan out there helping him.”
“What makes you think that, DiNozzo?”
“Boss, we found these guys tied to trees in the woods, stripped of all the weapons they were complaining about, their faces beat up.....someone overpowered them and worked them over, Boss, but good, then tied them up.”
“Wasn't no good Samaritan,” Paul finally piped up. “It was the agent. Tim McGee. He just got the upper hand.”
“Wait, wait, wait,” Tony interrupted, his hands in the air as if to hold off any more claims. “You're telling me that McGee, our McGee, tall, baby-faced blond guy.....that he overpowered you two hulks, beat you up, then tied you to a tree?”
“It's his fault,” Paul accused with a nod at Leslie. “He was supposed to watch him closer.”
“How was I supposed to know he was gonna take off like that?”
“His hands were tied, you idiot! It shouldn't have been hard to keep him close!”
“Maybe he was tied, but that didn't stop him from sticking that knife in your shoulder, did it?”
“Yeah? Well what about when we finally caught up to him? You had the gun on him, and he still beat the crap outta you,” Paul reminded his blond partner. Neither of the prisoners seemed to notice the three agent's amused eyes bumping back and forth between the speakers as if they were watching a tennis match.
“He knocked it out of my hand with that branch! I coulda used you help then, too, Paul, but you were too busy rolling around on the ground.”
“Whadda you expect? He kicked me in the head! It took a few minutes to recover.”
“That's enough,” Gibbs insisted. He didn't raise his voice, but his tone had that quality that insisted people listen. Both men swallowed their forthcoming words and turned their heads to Gibbs. “So the bottom line is, McGee took you two out on his own? With his hands tied?”
“That's my boy,” Tony said quietly, suddenly proud. Ziva was grinning at the thought, and Gibbs seemed amused and proud at the same time, but Tony wondered at the look of worry in his boss' eyes.
“Yeah,” Leslie confirmed, “and he stole our weapons, too, so NCIS owes us a few thousand dollars. There's no telling what he did with 'em all.”
“I don't think you'll be needing weapons, or money, where you're going. Tony, Ziva, get our bags to the car, then get something to eat while you can. We'll be leaving soon, and we won't be stopping for awhile.”
“Harlan, Kentucky, Boss?” Tony asked.
“Yep,” Gibbs said, then leaned down close to Leslie's face again. “Now.....about your bosses.”
Tim stood up and swiped a hand across his face to clear his vision of the still-falling rain.
“There you go,” he said. “All better.”
“Thanks,” the woman said, coming around the front of the car to meet him. Even in the storm, she'd refused to wait in the car with her children as Tim changed the tire. She seemed to feel the need to keep her eyes on him, and Tim wondered if she sensed he wasn't only good intentions.
Tim held the tire iron out for her to take, and when her hand closed around it, Tim pulled hard, just enough to cause her to stumble toward him.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her feet from the muddy ground, then tossed the tire iron away in favor of grabbing the gun at his back.
“Don't hurt me,” the woman pleaded. “Please.”
“I don't want to hurt you,” Tim said to her, barely recognizing his own voice. “I won't hurt you as long as you do what I say.”
“Oh, God,” the woman sobbed, clearly assuming on her own what a strange man might want from her. “Please, I won't fight you if you just.....take me where my kids won't see, and promise not to hurt them. Please.”
Tim's heart wrenched at the fear and desperation in the woman's voice, but even as his arms loosened a tiny fraction, his heart hardened.
Stop being a wuss! New Tim demanded, and Tim's arms tightened around her again, and she sobbed, clearly seeing it as an aggressive move on his part. You can do this, Tim, he coached himself. You're not gonna hurt her if she does what you want.
For a quick second, that soothed Tim's guilt and he raised the gun with the intention of scaring her. His hand stilled halfway there, though, as a thought hit him. The woman gasped as the gun was held directly in her line of sight, having stopped before being brought to her head as intended, but she clearly thought it was being shown to her as a threat. Tim was oblivious to her gasp or her ceasing struggles, hit with the intensity of the thought that had come to him.
If she does what you want, Tim repeated to himself. And what if she doesn't? What then? Is that when you jump off the deep end and put a bullet in her head? You can't do this!
Yes you can, he argued with himself, New Tim regaining possession of his mind. You can do whatever you have to do, for Sarah. She's all that matters.
But she shouldn't be, Tim reminded himself, even as his body began moving.
Tim pulled the woman back against him tighter still, her feet held off the ground by his height, and he placed the muzzle of his gun against her temple. The rain hid the tears he knew were on her face, but the fear wasn't hidden in her voice.
“Please,” she sobbed once, then said nothing else, but her body was shaking, and it wasn't from the late-summer storm. Tim's mind tried to tell him, over and over, that it wasn't right, what he was doing; he was supposed to be the protector, for God's sake! He had his job for a reason. He wanted to help people, not hurt them.
But every time, Sara's face popped into his head, quelling the inner argument, and New Tim would harshly remind himself that he had to do what he had to do. I haven't let anything get in my way up to now. I'm certainly not gonna let my own hangups stop me!
“I'm not gonna hurt you,” Tim stressed again. “I just need your car. That's it.”
He moved toward the vehicle, still holding her tight, until he reached the back door. He holstered his gun to reach for the handle.
“No!” the woman screamed, struggling for the first time “No! Don't you touch them!”
Tim almost dropped her, but used both arms to hold her tight. He held her against him, but her arms and legs were flailing, not completely without purpose. He took several knocks in the face from her elbows and fists and both shins would be mightily bruised later, he knew.
Before unwinding one arm from her waist to gain control of her arms, Tim spied the little moon face of the little boy, pressed against the backseat car window, staring through the rain-sheeted glass at his mother's struggle. The baby behind the boy, in the car seat, was oblivious, but the boy's face showed fear and he was shouting something unintelligible.
Tim tore his gaze away from the boy, not liking what it was doing to his resolve to carry through.
I'm officially the bad guy, Tim realized, and he felt as if he could sob right along with the mother and her child. From this day forward, I will always be in the memory of that little boy as the bad man that he thinks is hurting his mom. I'll be the scary shadow in the rainy night, and he'll remember my face in his childhood nightmares.
Tim pushed that terrible revelation from his head and turned his attention back to the matter at hand. He quickly regained control of the woman's arms and held them down firmly. He lowered his head to speak directly in her ear.
“Stop it,” he hissed. “Stop it. I'm not going to hurt you or your kids. I just want the car. That's all.”
The woman seemed to forcibly calm herself, taking several deep breaths. Her hair was rain-plastered to her face, obscuring her features.
“Just the car?” she asked tremulously. “You won't hurt my kids?”
“Just the car,” he confirmed. “I won't touch them. I'll let you go so you can get them out, but don't you go anywhere. I have a gun.”
Tim felt smaller than small as he reminded her of his weapon, making the threat clear. The woman, however, responded with a bit of sarcasm, which was quite admirable in her situation.
“Go anywhere? Where would I go? Anyway, I wouldn't run and leave my babies with you!”
That was true, and Tim realized he hadn't been thinking as clearly as he'd though he was. The whole drama had probably been unnecessary. Most likely, a flash of the gun and a command to remove the children from the car would have gotten the job done. There was nowhere out there, in the middle of nowhere and after dark, that the woman could have gotten to to report the car theft before he would have been long gone, and as she'd said- she wouldn't have left the children. She would have done what he wanted to protect her kids, even if it meant being stranded without her car.
Tim realized with a jolt that there had been no need for him to restrain her, or put his hands on her at all, and he wondered how far he would have taken it. As if her body had burned him, Tim dropped the woman to her feet and pulled his arms away, taking a couple quick steps backward. Just in case she decided to try anything.
“Get them out,” Tim ordered her abruptly. She hastened to the back door and yanked it open as Tim walked around and opened the the driver's door and climbed behind the wheel. He turned in his seat to better see her clearly as she climbed across the seat to extract the baby from the car seat. She had to be directly behind him to do so, and he didn't relish the idea of a knock on the back of the head or something.
You're low, Tim, he berated himself. Even in his mind, the tone was disgusted. You're the lowest of the low. You're putting a mother, a small child and a baby out on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere, at midnight, in the middle of a storm.
Oh, stop it! New Tim interjected. You're not hurting them. They'll be fine.
Tim pulled away, headlights showing the way, leaving the mother and children behind in the rain and dark.
It was the next thought that brought him back to himself. So this is what you've become.
Tim slammed on the brakes, the car skidding a little on the rain-slicked road, and finally coming to an abrupt stop in the middle of the road.
What the hell was he doing? He'd just put that mother and her children out on the side of the road! His parents would be ashamed, Sara would be appalled and guilt-ridden that he'd done these things for her. And Gibbs......that didn't even bear thinking about, and Tim quailed inside at the idea of hearing what Gibbs would have to say on the matter. Gibbs was already going to have plenty to say when he had to arrest Tim for the things he'd done; no need to add fuel to the fire. He hoped the rest of the team never found out. He couldn't imagine what they thought of him by now, their former friend and teammate seemingly gone rogue, but Tim desperately hoped they didn't find out about this, his lowest deed ever.
Tim reversed the car and slowly traversed backwards to his starting position, his heart shriveling in shame at the fear of the woman when she saw him returning. She clutched her children to her and backed away, looking around in desperation for help that wasn't there.
Tim hated himself more than ever at that moment.
He slammed the car into park and emerged quickly, hoping to forestall the woman trying to flee.
“Wait,” he called to he as she retreated backwards with the children. “I'm sorry! I'm not gonna hurt you, I swear. You can have the car back. I'm so sorry.”
He waited for her but, not unexpectedly, she didn't approach him. He didn't blame her; in her mind, he was a dangerous man, and she had her children to protect.
He would have like to soothe her, make her trust him, make her realize he wasn't who she though he was, but he knew it wasn't feasible. So instead, Tim reached into the car and grabbed her purse, which had still been sitting between the seats when he'd taken it. Feeling like a heel, Tim rooted around in the purse while the woman watched, until he found what he was looking for.
He pulled her cell phone out, dropped it to the wet ground, and smashed it with his heel.
“I'm sorry,” he said to her again. “I had to. Just to give me a chance to get away. I understand if you report me in the next town or when you get home, but I just need a head start. I know you probably won't believe this, or understand, but I'm desperate. I'm so sorry I scared you. I'll just leave. You can have your car back.”
The woman said nothing, just clutched her children and stared. Tim figured this would probably be in her books as the scariest and strangest encounter she'd ever had. Tim wanted to make her understand, but he couldn't spare the time, and anyway, he knew he didn't deserve her forgiveness. So instead of apologizing a hundred more times as he wanted to, he slunk off into the dark rain, thoroughly ashamed of himself. He heard the car start several minutes later and squeal away, and he knew the terrified woman had waited until his form was well out of sight.
Time to find an unoccupied car, Tim told himself as he trudged through the mud under his feet. He tried to push the fear of himself to the back of his mind; he had other things to worry about, like getting to Harlan, Kentucky. But he couldn't help but wonder what would happen when the day came that he couldn't bring himself back to his senses when his new, baser nature took over.
TBC
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