The town and spa do not actually exist outside my fevered imagination.

As ever, thanks to my wonderful betas, Jake and Jordre. These ladies are great.

Savages

Chapter 1

Francine was enjoying the Do. She always loved having lots of people in her house, but she was way off the beaten track, so she usually only got a few people from the swamp tours. These were her "honey" days, the days that she made enough money to keep her for several months. It didn't hurt that everyone was good. They didn't leave her a mess and actually helped with chores. Ami was good help, but she had classes, as she was trying to get through school in three years so she could get a job at the projected new grade school in the parish. She perked up as she heard her phone ring. But when she picked it up, she realized that it wasn't hers. She hesitated to answer it, but decided it couldn't hurt.

"Hello. This is Mr. DiNozzo's phone."

She got a semi-hysterical girl on the phone who demanded to speak to AJ or Jet right now. She soothed the girl, saying, "Hush now. Calm down. What's going on?"

"Who is this?" This was a different, older voice.

"Francine Reinye. I'm the owner of this bed and breakfast. Mr DiNozzo left his phone downstairs, so I answered it. What's going on?"

"This is Penny ... Penelope Langston. I'm Tim McGee's grandmother. There's been ... an incident. Can I speak to one of the group, please?"

"Yes, of course. I'll carry the phone up, don't hang up." Francine knew that something was badly wrong, so she hurried up the stairs and knocked on the door. "AJ! AJ! Wake up an' put some pants on. Phone."

Tony answered the door almost at once, wearing nothing but a t-shirt and boxers. "What's wrong?" Obviously something was wrong, as it was 0700 and Francine sounded worried. He took the offered phone. "Thanks."

Tony listened, his face getting dark with fury. He finally said, "We can be there in ... six to eight hours." He hung up then said, "Our friend is hurt. His grandmother wants us to come. We'll be checking out. Sorry."

Francine shook her head. "What do you need?"

Everyone was awake, Tony's tone of voice having alerted them that something was amiss.

Gibbs joined Tony at the door. "What's up?"

Tony explained quickly. "All Penny really told me was that Tim's in the fuckin' hospital, and she wants us all there."

Remy, wearing nothing but shorts, started packing at once. "We need to get boots for Gibbs right away. Transport to ... where the hell are they?"

"Savannah is the nearest airport, I think. They're in some damn spa out near the wildlife refuge. Yoga and some damn thing." Tony was more interested in his phone than anything else. "I'll see what I can do about ... getting us there."

Francine was more than helpful. "You need to take your bikes with you ... I think Luke is at home. Let me call him."

Cosmo said, kindly, "I don't know what good that'll do, but thanks."

Francine smiled. "Luke is a private contract pilot. He's got a ... huge ol' plane that he takes things around in. Out in the Gulf and to places they have trouble truckin' into or somethin' needs moved quick. An' he's usually reasonable."

Dean finished dressing and packing then got out of the way so Cosmo could do the same. Francine stepped into the room, turned her back and remarked, "I think we should take the talking downstairs; some people are still sleepin'."

"Okay," Tony agreed. "I'll come down now to make arrangements, then go back up to pack."

Ami popped out of her room, sleepy-eyed and messy-haired. "What's going on?"

Francine explained quickly, then said, "Pack for AJ, please."

Ami nodded, but pointed out, "You best put some more clothes on, homme."

Tony made a sound that could only be described as "meep" and hurried to get dressed.

It didn't take them long to get packed and down the stairs. Francine was already in the kitchen, with her phone between her ear and shoulder. She was talking to someone in Cajun French. Gibbs joined her and began frying eggs. She hung up, took the pan off the stove and turned around.

"Okay, here's the what. Luke has to fly up to Savannah anyway, good that. He's got room for you and is willing to leave early to get you up A-sap. So, I'm makin' grits. Someone make eggs. An' the bacon is in the oven. Ami ... Ami? Where is that girl?"

Ami came in from the back yard. "I run over to see Dan real quick. I know Mr. Gibbs needs boots so I took his old ones down. Dan got a pair just like 'em, same size. I bring 'em up."

Gibbs turned from his frying, took the boots and smiled at the girl. "Thank you, Ami. What do I owe you?"

Ami told him, "We'll tack the price onto the bill. You can settle up with the credit card company." She grinned quickly then turned to make toast. "No time for biscuits, just toast."

Francine put grits on plates, added bacon, then handed the plate to Gibbs, who put a fried egg on the grits. Ami added buttered toast and the whole group sat down to eat.

While they were eating, Tony's phone rang. "DiNozzo." He put it on speaker so everyone could hear.

"This is Sara again. Tim's got a concussion and four broken ribs. The doctor says he's got to stay for another day. When are you going to be here?" She sounded half hysterical.

"We're leaving as soon as we can. We caught a flight from New Orleans to Savannah. Three hours there, then however long it takes to get from Savannah to where you are. Do you have GPS for your location?"

Sara panicked at once. "I don't know. I don't think my phone has that. How do I find out? Penny?"

Penny came on, her dry voice calm. "I'll send you GPS from my phone. I'm sorry. I told her not to call you again. I'll see you when you get here. The name of the spa is Namaste Mind and Body Yoga Center." She hung up but it was only seconds before Tony's phone rang again. This time it was the ringtone for a text.

Francine was also on her phone again. "Okay, you head down to the barn and get your bikes. They're gonna be out front and gassed up when you get there. The Random boys are there and takin' care of gettin' 'em out and ready. They got the directions to the airport for you too." She just grabbed Remy and hugged him, "Y'all be careful. Bon voyage."

There was a flurry of hugging and cheek-kissing and Francine and Ami both insisted on hugging everyone and kissing their cheeks "for luck."

They headed off at a hard trot that got them to the barn in less than five minutes. Their motors were being gassed from cans by two men, who quickly finished the job. One of them went back into the barn while the other called, "We gassed 'em up; keys are in the ignition. Directions to the airport are in the trike's GPS. Sorry for your troubles. Good luck," then followed his brother back into the barn.

It didn't take them long to gear up, do com checks, and get on the road. Jimmy checked his directions, then led out. "We're going to Southern Seaplane Airport. It's outside New Orleans."

Dean asked, "Then why are we turning south?"

"Because the most convenient way is south to a ferry, cross the river, then back up. Otherwise we'd have to go way out of our way, as there's no bridge from 39 to 23."

They rode in silence until they reached the ferry. It didn't take them long to pay the toll and get on the ferry. The crossing was quick and the crew too busy for gossip. After crossing the river, they turned back north and put the hammer down, racking the throttles up to 80 mph.

The trip should have taken right at an hour, but they made it in just under 45 minutes. There wasn't much traffic, and they drove like the hounds of hell were nipping at their heels. No one wanted any more delay than absolutely necessary, so they were worried about loading their motors into the plane.

They stopped at the front desk to ask where Luke could be located, and the young man gave them directions to the hanger where Luke was storing his plane.

It turned out to be an old Goony Bird with huge side doors. Luke met them at the hanger. "Hello. You the Gibbs party?" He glanced at the motors and sighed. "Those might be a problem. I need 'em palletized."

Tony shook his head. "Not a problem. Gibbs, deal with paperwork." Gibbs was still on the hurt list, so he didn't object; the trip up had put significant strain on his foot, and it was aching again. "Dean, pallets. Luke?" Luke just pointed. "Good. Cos, Remy, help Dean. I'll help Luke get them onboard."

Luke blinked for a moment. "You in service?" Tony just nodded, as he was helping Dean drag pallets over for the bikes. "Active or retired?"

Tony dropped the pallet he was moving beside Dean, then went over to Luke. "Active Navy," he pointed to himself and the other three SEALs. "Gibbs is a Marine reservist, although he claims to be retired. And Jimmy's our medic."

Gibbs returned at a limping trot with papers in hand. "Here."

Jimmy handed him a packet of pills and a bottle of water. "Here, your own damn self. And get the hell off that."

Gibbs, well aware that he was going to have to nurse his foot so he could be on it later, just took the pills and drank the water. He settled for leaning against the side of the hanger, with his weight off his sore foot.

It didn't take them long to get the motors strapped to pallets and loaded on the plane after Tony admitted that he knew how to drive a fork lift. This didn't leave much passenger room, but they managed. It was actually better than a C-130, as there were no small children, and the engines were actually quieter. They settled in to fly.

Luke was an older man who'd retired from the Air Force with twenty years' service, bought his plane, and enjoyed the privilege of taking what jobs he wanted and telling the rest to shove off. He made a quick walkthrough, made sure everything was tied down properly and his passengers were seated. "I'm flyin' alone, so there's no coffee wagon." He grinned at that. "You need the head, hold it. I'm sure you all know the drill. I'll be finished with checks and whatnot quick. I'll give you a heads-up before taxi, but that's about it. The flight will take about three hours, maybe a bit more, depending on traffic. I'll give you a holler before landing." And with that he went to his seat and started flipping switches and checking things off on a clipboard.

They were soon in the air, and everyone did what they usually did on a flight like this: they went to sleep.

.

"Hey! I'm preparing to land. Last call for alcohol," Luke hollered from his seat.

Everyone was awake instantly and hurried to make sure their belts were tight and everything was stowed safely. "Ok, we're tight."

The landing was textbook, and the taxi to their parking place didn't take long either. Luke shut down, then got out to head to Airport Operations to close out his flight plan. That done, he headed back to help get his cargo offloaded. He was pleasantly surprised to find that not only had the pod unloaded their motors, but all the other cargo as well.

Tony checked the clipboard in his hand, then said, "I checked the load list; everything was supposed to be offloaded here, according to the paperwork. We had to unload some of that to get to our stuff so we just did the rest of the job."

Luke couldn't believe it. "Man, you boys were fast. I wasn't occupied more than ... thirty minutes doing my shut-down and paperwork."

Tony shrugged. "We're in a bit of a hurry." He went to mount his motor. Everyone else was already geared up, mounted, and ready to go. They did com checks and took off, with Jimmy in the lead.

Jimmy's voice over the com announced, "We're headed for a place called Purdysburg. It's in South Carolina and is the closest place to the center, which is in Georgia. It's not very big, population about 45,000, if that. Small clinic/hospital, bed capacity 50. The spa also has a very small clinic. I'm not sure where Tim is, neither Penny nor Sara said. So where do we go?"

Gibbs announced. "Sheriff's station or FBI office. We'll stop at the edge of town so you can find out which."

Tony said, flatly, "I don't care who fuckin' thinks they have jurisdiction, we're damn well takin' it."

"Damn straight." Gibbs' return left no doubt about that.

The ride took about an hour at 90 mph, a dangerous pace to keep on unfamiliar highways, but they were anxious to get there. Jimmy pulled them over about ten minutes out so he could find the Sheriff's Office, or Highway Patrol station, where they could find out something.

The Highway Patrol station was way out in the county, which put it down the list. There was no FBI station nearer than Savannah, so they headed for the Sheriff's Station, as it was closest to where they were now.

It was a tired, dirty bunch which entered the station at nearly noon. The desk officer wasn't much inclined to let them in to see the Sheriff until Gibbs put two things down on his desk. One was his NCIS credentials; the other was his Spartan coin. Tony dropped his ID and coin next to Gibbs'.

The desk officer took one look at the ID and coins, then the group. "I take it you're here about that McGee guy. FBI's already trying to claim jurisdiction."

Gibbs snorted, collected his stuff and snarled, "Good luck with that."

Tony also picked up his stuff but kept silent.

The desk officer rolled his eyes but led the way into the Sheriff's personal office.

They were just in time to hear someone say, "I said the FBI will be investigating this, not some jumped-up hillbilly with notions above his station." The decidedly Northern accent added more insult to the proclamation.

Gibbs sighed. "Man, that is not going to go well."

"Boss." Tony sideoogled Gibbs.

"I'm not that bad ... am I?" Gibbs decided that he was going to let Tony handle contact with locals from now on.

"No, you're worse. Let's get this over with before the sheriff has a stroke."

They just opened the door and walked in. Both the sheriff and the agent stiffened. The sheriff decided to keep his thoughts to himself when Gibbs flashed his coin and Tony his credentials.

The FBI agent announced, "I am FBI Agent Bart Simpson and I've heard all the jokes so don't bother. I don't know who you are but this is a private conference. Leave."

Tony cupped one hand behind his ear. "I didn't hear a please in there. Sheriff ..." Tony got a quick look at the sheriff's name tag. "Madigan. Did you hear the magic word?"

Sheriff Madigan shook his head. "Nope. Don't believe I did. Now, who might y'all be?"

Tony did the honors as he knew better than to distract Gibbs from his intimidation of Bart Simpson.

"Master Chief Petty Officer Remiel Andre Devereaux." Remy nodded. "Chief Warrant Officer Dean Cale." Dean offered a wave. "Chief Petty Officer Cosmo Richter." Cosmo moved into the Sheriff's line of sight. "NCIS Senior Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. And I'm Lieutenant Commander Anthony Jethro DiNozzo. Behind me is Dr. James Palmer, NCIS Medical Examiner."

Sheriff Madigan looked a bit alarmed at that. "M.E.! No one's died that I know of."

"Jimmy's along because we were on vacation in Louisiana when we got the word. Timothy McGee is NCIS, therefore, we have jurisdiction." Tony gave the sheriff a congenial smile. "Beside, wouldn't you rather deal with us? We're much prettier than ... him." Tony turned to give Agent Simpson the fish eye, backed by the rest of the pod.

Sheriff Madigan was impressed. He'd never seen a group like this before; he was just hoping they were on his side. He didn't like Feds much. Some of them were great people, polite, respectful of his position and helpful; others were just jackasses. This Simpson guy was the second. He, the sheriff, was not inclined to be of use. On the other hand, guys who showed up with a certain coin and good manners, no matter that they were dirty and road-worn… well, he'd wait and see.

Agent Simpson remarked in a rather snide tone, "What makes you think you have the right to run this investigation? Or the authority?"

Gibbs didn't take his eyes off the man or move a muscle, other than the ones necessary to say, "McGee is an NCIS agent and on my team. You really want to argue about this, call Fornell."

"Fornell? Senior Agent Fornell of DC? What's he got to do with this?" Simpson looked like he was going to argue then snarled, "Fine. I'll call him." He went into a corner of the nicely appointed office to make his call.

While he was doing that, Tony turned to the sheriff. "Sorry about that little pissing contest. What can you tell us?"

The sheriff gave them a quick run-down.

McGee had been at the yoga retreat; he'd gone into town for some reason. Some locals had taken exception to the 'fairy fag' speaking to a girl and had attacked him. He'd managed to fight them off but, as they'd driven away, they'd run him over with their pickup. Other locals had witnessed the act, called 911, and given statements. He ended by telling them that McGee was in the local hospital with a concussion, which was the only reason he was still there; the doctor wanted to keep an eye on him for 48 hours in case of complications.

Gibbs was still looking at Simpson with that squint-eyed glare that made even the SEALs a bit nervous. Simpson was turning red in the face as whoever he was talking to made his feelings plain. They could actually hear the shouting. Gibbs took the phone out of Simpson's hand.

"Who is this?"

Tobias Fornell's voice replied, "Who the hell do you think it is, numbnuts?"

"Toby. Nice to hear your voice. You read in yet?" Gibbs voice went from chill to warm in a split second. No matter what anyone might think, he and Tobias Fornell were friends.

"Yeah. We're officially turning the whole mess over to NCIS. Put that jackass back on the phone."

Gibbs just poked the phone in Simpson's general direction and let go of it. Simpson juggled it until he got it back to his ear. He listened for a moment then turned white. "Okay, okay. I'm going back to Savannah. Good-bye." He shut his phone off with a quick jab of his finger. "I'll leave you to it then." And with that he left, slamming the glass door behind him.

Sheriff Madigan eyed it for a moment. "Northerners. If he's broken that damn glass, I'm sendin' the FBI a bill. So. I've got the reports all set out in our conference room. I'll go over them with you if you like. Visitin' hours are over until 2, and Doc's a real bear about that. Says it keeps the patients from eatin' right and takin' naps. You read the reports an' get a place to stay. Ruby's Place, and that's actually the name, is good. Restaurant on the premises that's nice; bit common but good, plain fare. There's a couple of really good places around; just ask at the desk. Now ... I'm off to get some coffee." The sheriff just walked out, pointing to another glassed-in cubicle, "Conference room."

So the sheriff left them with a pile of reports and a hurt comrade that they hadn't even seen yet. Gibbs thought for a moment, then said, "Jimmy, go see McGee. Remy, you go with him. No one goes anywhere alone until we're sure this was an isolated incident. Cosmo, Dean, find us something to eat. AJ and I'll start on the reports and get a summary worked up. Go."

So everyone took off to take care of things. Jimmy asked at the desk and found that the hospital was just down the street, while a good restaurant was up the street three blocks. The much vaunted on-premises place was a lunch room that also served the prisoners. Remy opened his trunk and got out his service weapon and his carry permit. Jimmy, Dean, and Cosmo all followed his lead.

Dean glanced around. "All this seems really new construction for this area. Wonder where the old part of town is?"

An officer who was entering the building overheard and came over. "You really want to know?" Jimmy nodded. The officer pointed off west. "Well, the old courthouse is historic, outdated, and useless, so we built a new, modern building about ... oh ... six years ago now. Turned the historic buildings into tourist attractions. We've got the sheriff's station on this side, the police station on the other, with the jail right in the middle. The courts and lunch room are on the second floor; and judges' offices, city clerk, and that on the third. Keeps everything central. We've got a secondary facility out in the county for long-term prisoners. The hospital is new, too. We didn't have one until Doc got a grant. You need directions to anything?"

Cosmo said, "Sure could use a recommendation for a good place to pick up some carry-out."

"Mom's Buffet is really good. She'll fix you up a plate for six dollars. Just don't drink her coffee. Tea's good, but her coffee is so weak it's downright anemic. Java Pot, right next door to her ..." he pointed, "is the place for coffee." He looked at his watch and announced, "I better get to gettin', I'll be late." He trotted for the door, harness jingling.

So Dean and Cosmo went to Mom's to get food for themselves, Tony, and Gibbs. Jimmy and Remy said they'd pick up their own food after they saw McGee.

.

Jimmy wasn't sure exactly where Tim was, so he stopped at the visitor information desk and asked the man there. "I'll see, just a moment. McGee? Are you family? Visitin' hours don't start until 2pm."

Jimmy shook his head. "No. I'm Dr. James Palmer, his physician of record. I'm also a personal friend. Are any of his family here?"

"Yes." The man tapped his keyboard for a moment. "I've got a Sara McGee and a Penelope Langston on site. Can't get them to leave but ..." he shrugged in a "what can you do" sort of way. "His physician ... the one here, is in his room now." He smiled proudly. "We've got a tracking ... thing ... don't know how it works exactly, but we can locate any staff member with it." His phone rang just then, and he answered it, "Visitor Information. Dave speaking." He listened for a moment then replied, "Dr. Palmer, his personal physician and ..." He looked at Remy who just handed his credentials over. "A Master Chief Petty Officer Remiel Andre Devereaux." He mispronounced both Remiel and Devereaux. "I'll send them up." He handed Remy's wallet back. "Go right up. Room 210. Elevator, turn left, second door on the left. Have a nice day."

Jimmy just said, "Thank you. You too."

They followed his directions and stepped into a modern hospital room with two beds. One was occupied by Tim; the other was empty.

Jimmy walked over and took Tim's hand. Tim looked up a bit blearily and mumbled, "Gremlin, I didn't know you cared."

Jimmy finished taking his pulse then grumbled. "Damn it, I don't have a stethoscope. Nor a thermometer."

The older woman, who'd been watching with amusement, handed Jimmy a stethoscope. "Here. Use mine. And there's a thermometer on the tray."

Jimmy nodded absently. "Thanks." He listened to Tim's chest, took his temp, used the cuff attached to the bed to take his blood pressure, then did all the other tests to diagnose a concussion. "Double vision? Headache? Who's the president? Do you wanna dance?"

Tim chuckled and answered, "No. Yes. Obama. And oh, hell no."

Jimmy glanced around. "Ok, Penny, Sara. He'll live. He's concussed. I'd like to see x-rays?"

"Dr. Palmer. I'm Dr. Odell. I have his x-rays at the nurse's station. This way." Dr. Odell led the way. Jimmy followed, looking distracted.

Remy just settled in. "What the hell, man?"

Tim rubbed his face. "I'm not exactly sure. We came to the retreat, and everything was good. It's nice there. I liked it. But I needed some razors and shaving cream. I don't like their stuff. So I came into town to get some. Next thing I know some redneck dickweed is in my face about insulting his girl. He took a swing, I fought back. Whipped his ass too. But his buddies grabbed him and took off. Ran me down with their truck in the process. I'm not that good at flying so I hit the curb pretty hard."

Remy felt like all the air had been punched out of him. Such a simple thing, going to buy razors, and this had happened. Someone was going to hurt, bad.

Jimmy returned to the room. "I checked your x-rays. Three cracked ribs, one broken. I'm prescribing a support belt for a bit, just to keep the broken rib protected." Jimmy looked at Tim for a moment. "I know you're going to be up and around, right in the middle of this investigation. I've prescribed some pills for you. Take 'em." He made some notes on Tim's chart then smiled at him. "I sincerely hope you kicked ass."

Penny chose this moment to get into the conversation. "I'm supposed to be a pacifist, but I find I truly hope so too. Now what do we do?"

Jimmy looked at her for a moment. He'd never actually met her, so he wasn't sure what she meant. "Excuse me?"

Penny neatly edged the two men out into the hall. "Who should we notify? I called Tony at Tim's insistence but I'm sure there's other people to call. I just don't know who."

Jimmy thought for a moment. "Someone called the FBI. Gibbs sent that one on the run. Jackass. I really think we ought to just let Gibbs handle it."

Penny made a face. "Oh, my lord, that one."

Tim called, "Penny, leave it. Gibbs will handle everything."

Penny looked like she was going to argue but her phone rang, cutting her off before she got started. "Hello?" She listened for a moment then practically snarled, "No, I have everything under control. His team is here." She listened again then said, "I said no. And he gave as good as he got until a bunch of neo-nazi rednecks ran him over with a pickup truck." She hung up with a sharp jab of her finger then turned her phone off. "Timothy, that was your father. He wanted me to offer what help he is capable of giving. Which is not much, frankly. He just wants to stick his nose in, disapprove, and ... I'm not sure what."

Tim rolled his eyes then gave Remy a pleading look. Remy jumped on that, well aware of exactly what Tim wanted. "Miss Penny, why don't you and Sara take the rest of the day off? Go back to the retreat, get a shower, a massage, change your clothing. Anything interesting happens, I, personally, will call you."

Sara, who looked exhausted, brightened. "That would be nice. I came straight here from jogging." She cast a rather guilty look at Tim. "But ... maybe I should stay?"

Tim waved a hand. "Go. You really believe you can do more for me than ... um ... that's not coming out right." He sounded petulant in the last sentence.

Sara snickered. "That's okay. If Gibbs and that bunch can't protect you…" she yawned. "Penny. Let's go."

Penny resisted a bit, then admitted that she needed some rest. She gathered her stuff, then kissed Tim on the forehead. "Call if you need us." She turned to Jimmy. "Call."

Jimmy, who was still reading charts, just nodded. "I will. But my advice, as a physician, is to get some food, sleep, and a massage. In that order. You can't do Tim any good if you're worn out."

Sara kissed Tim on the cheek, then followed Penny out the door.

Tim sighed with relief. "Thanks, guys. I love 'em to pieces, and I know they love me ... but they're exhausting. They need constant reassurance that I'm not going to die on them."

Remy promptly cast himself, carefully, on Tim's chest, wailing. "Timmy! Oh, Tiny Tim. Don't die!"

Tim bopped him in the head. "Get off. Idiot."

"Jerk." Remy flopped into a chair. "So, how are you, really?"

Tim thought for a moment, then said, "I hurt all over, I can't breathe right, I'm embarrassed and pissed. I was doing fine until the jerk ran, with some help. I just let him go and turned to go to my car, and the bastards ran me over."

Remy knew that he should ask for descriptions and other information, but he decided to leave that to Tony, as he was the expert.

Jimmy put the chart away. "Gibbs will be here soon to ask you all the annoying questions. You're okay to answer. Tell me if you get too tired. I'll stay, but ... Gibbs is livid and AJ is, frankly, homicidal. Be thinking about everything. I'd like to keep your debrief as ..." he grinned in the crooked way of his, "brief as possible. Rest."

Tim just sighed, snuggled down as best he could on the thin hospital mattress, and tried to sleep.

Jimmy went into the hall to make a call to Tony.

.

Tony sat at one end of the table and Gibbs at the other. They each had a small pile of witness statements, some of them with only one page. They were still reading when Dean and Cosmo returned with four containers of carry-out.

Dean put one in front of Tony, while Cosmo gave one to Gibbs. Dean told them, "We just got the special of the day. The buffet looked nice enough, but ... it's meatloaf. How can you turn down meatloaf?"

Gibbs took his container, exchanging it for the files he'd already read. "Read."

Cosmo started reading and eating. Tony did the same with Dean. Halfway through the meal Tony and Gibbs finished their last files and passed them on to Dean, and Cosmo and took the files they hadn't finished reading. By the time they were done eating, they were done reading the files.

Gibbs summed it up neatly. "Some fuckin' redneck took exception to Tim existing. He decided to express his stupidity by beating him up. Got his damn stupid ass handed to him, so he rabbited. The driver fuckin' ran Tim over out of spite. Bastards."

Tony added, "They just called the wrath of God down on their heads."

Cosmo shook his head. "The wrath of us. Worse."

A voice from the door asked, "And why are you worse than the wrath of God?"

"God has mercy. We don't."

Sheriff Madigan ambled in, sat down, and said, "I should give you all sorts of warnings and shit. I find I'm not inclined. All I'll say is, don't piss off the locals, be nice to my people, and don't kill anyone. I'm pretty sure who did it, but I can't prove it. My department is actually ... me, Dan Smith, Rachael Hind, Frank Watson, and half a dozen others. We dispatch through the highway patrol. The police department is about the same size, with six officers, which includes the chief. Of the five regular officers, one is part-time. We just don't have the people, or the experience to deal with anything federal."

Gibbs turned to Tony. Tony caught the ball and ran with it. "Okay. No insult to your people, but why should you? This is small-town America. I'm sure the worst you have to deal with usually is simple assault, drunks, family disputes, and that." He went on to explain exactly who they were and what they could do, leaving the sheriff wide-eyed.

"Oh, holy hell. SEALs who are NCIS? And ... NCIS is Feds. Just tell me what you want."

Tony thought for a moment, then said, "Access to your facilities. Computers, records, that sort of thing. Introduction to your people. Cooperation. Do you think Tim is safe in the hospital?"

Sheriff Madigan thought for a moment. "I think so. What I think happened is ... they were drunk, stoned, something. Heat of the moment. They probably aren't real local. I'd have heard something if they were. Locals actually like most of the people from the retreat. They don't cause trouble and bring a significant amount of money into the area. Between taxes on the retreat, money they spend, jobs, and donations to this and that ... they built this whole complex." He shook his head. "I'd really like to get this settled quickly. We don't need the bad publicity, and I don't like that sort of people around."

Gibbs snarled, "A bad element only needs a toehold. We're gonna cut off the whole foot." He visibly calmed himself. "I'm plannin' on handin' out warrants. Bench, if your judge will cooperate. If not, I'll round up a Fed who will."

Sheriff Madigan shook his head. "I'm sure that Judge Parker will cooperate. She's the no-nonsense sort." He rubbed his face. "So what have you figured out?"

Tony consulted his notes, then Gibbs'. "Not a whole lot. I'd like to re-interview most of the witnesses. We've got a pickup. Perhaps a duallie, definitely a half-ton. Some people say it had a third wheel; others, some sort of tow setup. It's primer blue/grey with a dark bed. Crew cab. No one's sure, but it had to be, to hold five men. Also, the guy who attacked Tim was either out cold or had a damaged leg, as they carried him."

The sheriff grumbled, "We already knew all that. I can add that we're as sure as we can be that they aren't local. My advice is to interview my officers and any PD who'll speak to you."

Gibbs thought about that for a moment, then turned to Tony. "What do you think?"

Tony glanced at his watch. "It's nearly 1700 already. People won't appreciate us dragging them away from supper. We need to find a place to stay, deal with getting set up. I want more weapons, frankly. All I've got is my service piece and a knife. I want my duty setup. I want to see Tim. I want to kill someone."

Cosmo just moved to sit beside him. "Can't off the asshole, makes people talk. Get whoever it is in jail. Leavenworth."

Dean added, "Just remember, if you kill 'em, they can't suffer. So ... place to stay."

Gibbs thought for a moment, then said, "The retreat. We'll be wanting local, and they'll put up with our odd hours. There's yoga and stuff. I'll call Penny. Give her something to do that's a help."

A quick call, and they were set up with a whole cottage to themselves. They did find that they had to take at least two classes, so they agreed on yoga and tai chi. Tony set the times as early as he could, which meant that they were getting up at 0600 for a class that started at 0630 and was a combined, advanced yoga and tai chi workout that lasted two hours, then a nice six-mile ruck run. Or the other way around, depending. After that, breakfast and on to investigating. Gibbs wasn't that pleased, but realized that they were going to have to compromise, something he hated, or have no place to stay. There was a bed and breakfast with rooms free, but it was out the other way several miles. There was a convention at the retreat, and everything was full. He actually wondered how they'd managed the cottage.

Remy and Jimmy showed up just then. Remy settled at the table while Jimmy stood, shifting from foot to foot.

Gibbs eyed him for a second then said, "Out with it."

"Okay." He gave a quick run-down of Tim's condition, finishing, "All in all, he'll be fine in a few. Even his knuckles. But ... if he had landed just a bit differently, it would be a completely different story. I want ..." he paused, clenching his hands into fists.

Tony nodded. "We all do. Come on. We've got a place to stay, courtesy of Penny. Let's go."

They all trooped out to their motors and went through the usual gearup, com check, start. They roared away toward the retreat, leaving several LEO's behind, shaking their heads and wondering what such an unprepossessing group was going to do in their investigation.