During the interrogation of the "rat" that Ducky caught in the morgue, there was mention that the "rat" couldn't get into the computer system at NCIS because of a firewall that was built by Timothy McGee. That led me to think, what if the terrorists NEEDED the information before they could proceed with their plans. This thought led to an alternate scene for Whiskey, Tango, Foxtrot . . . because there is just NEVER enough Tim whump!

As usual, I don't own them, I just borrow them for play dates and try to bring them back unbroken.

*******************NCIS*******************

Tim McGee had just left his favorite coffee shop, squinting his eyes in the bright sunlight after being inside, when his cell phone rang. Fishing it from his pocket, he smiled when he saw who was calling. "Tony, hey! I'm heading over to NCIS. Where are you?"

"I'm already here, Tim, I spent the night." Came Tony's tired reply.

"Huh! Just like old times, eh?" Tim replied with a faint smile.

"Listen! They're tracking your cell! Ditch it and get a cab." Tony interrupted.

"Copy that." Tim swiftly responded, acting quickly to throw both his cell phone and his coffee in the nearest trash can. Striding to the street, long legs covering the ground quickly, he had just started crossing when the sound of squealing tires caught the young man's attention. Giving a quick glance over his shoulder, he saw a dark colored SUV swiftly closing the distance between them.

"Oh, boy!" he murmured anxiously, as he increased his speed.

With a final squeal of brakes, the vehicle came to a stop close behind him and three heavily muscled men jumped out. Knowing he was out of options, Tim turned to face them as they approached. "May I help you, gentlemen?" Tim asked, trying hard to mask his nervousness.

"Timothy McGee, we need you to come with us." One of the stony-faced trio in front of him replied.

"I'm sorry, I have an appointment for this afternoon that just can't be put off. I'll have to take a raincheck on going with you." Tim replied, mind quickly evaluating and discarding various options. They outnumbered him, and although he was no slouch when it came to defending himself, 3 to 1 odds are never that good. Apparently whatever they were wanting, they weren't afraid of having witnesses, either, as they had accosted him on a busy street with several people nearby.

"You'll just have to reschedule. I'm afraid my boss has need of your computer expertise. I've been told that you are a smart man, if you're as smart as I have been told, you'll come along with us voluntarily."

"Well, since you haven't identified yourselves and I have no idea who you are, I guess I'm not feeling very smart today. If I can help it, I'm not going anywhere with you." was Tim's reply, just before the man on his right swung a punch at him. Dodging the telegraphed blow, Tim turned and kicked the man in the knee with a sickening 'crack', effectively taking him out of the action. He turned quickly and found himself on the receiving end of a flying tackle from one of the other men, knocking the breath from him as he hit the ground hard and seeing stars as his head connected with the asphalt street. Sucking in great gulps of air, he fought to fend off the darkness that threatened to engulf him, all the while trying to defend himself as best he could. Kicks and blows were being exchanged, given as well as received, but Tim was on the losing end.

Just when things were looking their worst and Tim figured that the bad guys were going to come out on top of this one, he became aware of other men engaging his opponents, giving him a moment to regain his bearings and catch a breath. Suddenly, he felt hands pull him to his feet and a familiar voice calling him, "McGee! McGee, are you all right?"

Shaking his head to clear it a bit, Tim just looked at Tobias Fornell in bewilderment. He felt an arm encompass his shoulders and urge him toward a black sedan that had suddenly appeared on the scene. "McGee, get in the car!"

"Agent Fornell," Tim asked him dazedly, "This isn't about your ex-wife again, is it?"

With an exasperated huff of either annoyance or amusement, Fornell replied, "Just get in the damn car!" As Tim obediently slid his rather battered, long-limbed body into the back seat of the sedan, Fornell climbed into the front passenger seat while speaking into his wrist-mic, "We got him!" He gave a signal to the driver and they sped away.

Turning to the passenger in the back, Fornell observed Tim closely as he rested with his head back against the seat, noting the abnormally pale tone of his skin and the pain lines around his closed eyes. "Hospital first." he told his driver quietly, and was surprised when there was no reaction from McGee. "You doing all right back there, McGee?" was his first question.

Opening his eyes a sliver, Tim said quietly "I'm fine."

Fornell snorted a response, "Yeah, sure you're fine. Know what my daughter told me the other night? The Definition of 'fine' . . . Frustrated, Injured, Needing help, and Emotional."

With a slight half-smile on his face, McGee replied, "See, I told you, I'm fine! While I catch my breath back here, why don't you tell me what's going on and, not that I'm complaining or anything, how did you just happen to be there right when I needed help?"

"I got a call from Director Vance. Seems there's an ex-NCIS agent there in protective custody after someone tried to kill him last evening. After doing some digging, this ex-NCIS agent became convinced that you were next in line, and wanted to charge off on his white steed to save you. The Director elected me to do it instead, as for some reason he has decided that he wants to keep BOTH of you safe. After we get you checked out at the hospital, we will be joining Vance and DiNozzo to discuss the matter at hand. If you can keep your questions until then it would make my life much easier. Then I'd only have to go over it once."

*********************NCIS*********************

Leon Vance stood quietly staring out the shattered window of DiNozzo's apartment, seemingly unperturbed by the wait. DiNozzo on the other hand, was moving restlessly, impatient to see his partner and see for himself that Tim was okay. Fornell had called with a report as they left the hospital, giving them the heads-up on McGee's condition and that there was nothing requiring him to stay in the hospital. Both men's heads turned swiftly at the sound of the door opening and closing, and they watched as Tim moved slowly into the room with Fornell following closely behind.

"Hell of a place for a meeting. Who lives like this . . . Martha Stewart?" Fornell tossed sarcastically in DiNozzo's direction.

Tony automatically responded in kind, "Well, the towels are Martha Steward, but that's it." His attention was all on McGee. His sharp eyes picked out every bruise and scrap. He saw how stiffly his Probie was holding his torso and the ACE bandage on his right wrist. Most concerning was the dark bruise and bandage on the right side of his head, above the temple.

McGee, however, was staring wide-eyed at the window and the shattered glass laying scattered on the hardwood floor. "Tony! Wh-what happened?" He gazed back at the older agent as if to make sure that he was indeed all right.

Trying for humor, but sounding more like bitterness, Tony responded, "Well, Tim . . . I decided to redecorate. I'm going mid-century mob hit."

Before the familiar, reassuring banter could start up between the two former agents, Leon Vance interrupted in that dry, cold voice he got when he was especially angry, his eyes never leaving McGee's obviously battered and shaken form. "Gibbs walked into a trap, DiNozzo almost got killed, and they tried to kidnap you, McGee. Special Agent Fornell has offered to enlighten us on events."

Taking the obvious hint, Fornell stepped forward quickly as DiNozzo turned off his plasma television. "You ever hear of a terrorist whack-job called Benem Parsa?"