Ten minutes after the building was rocked by the explosion, the doors to elevator were forced open on the basement level, and Tony braced them open with his foot, allowing Ziva to crawl out over him. He rolled out onto the floor and was mildly annoyed when they stayed in the same position, meaning his fears that they would force themselves shut, trapping him between them had gone unfounded.

Wordlessly, Ziva grabbed his arm and pulled him upright; on this level at least, the only sign of significant damage was loose ceiling tiles that had fallen to the floor. They shared a silent look and limped down towards Abby's Lab, where they could hear oddly distorted music playing.

"Do you think she's still in there?" Tony asked cautiously, as the damage grew more pronounced the further down the hallway they went, and Ziva shook her head.

"I do not know." She admitted softly, "but if there is a window there, perhaps we can get out with some ease."

The doors to the lab were across the hall, blow out of their housing by the force of the shockwave, and Tony moved to take the lead, coughing slightly at the brick dust that left a thick haze in the air. He was stunned to see two unmoving figures covered in the red and white dust from the shattered concrete and red bricks that lined the building, and dashed forwards, closely followed by Ziva.

Gibbs was the first to stir, and he groaned softly, easing his weight off of Abby who was blinking slowly, clearly stunned, both by the concussive blast, hitting the floor so hard and the shock of what had just happened. "Easy, Boss. You hurt?"

Gibbs moved to sit up slowly, checking his limbs and making an internal inventory of his wounds. He judged he wasn't too bad, though his ears were ringing and he had a sneaking suspicion that Tony was trying to divide himself into two. Ziva was slowly helping Abby sit up, and she began to cough.

"I'm ok, Tony. Abs?"

"Whut?" She blinked and rubbed her ear with annoyance. "Yeah, yeah, I'm ok. A bit sore. Actually, a lot sore." She half-shouted and Gibbs nodded, feeling the effects of the blast himself.

"Nothing's broken, DiNozzo. Come on, we gotta go get that bastard."

"We gotta get out first, Boss." Tony snapped and looked around; the windows into the lab were covered with debris. "Onwards and upwards I guess." He held out his hand and Gibbs stood stiffly with his help, not missing Tony's wince.

"What?"

"Don't lecture 'cos we couldn't get near the stairs; we were in the elevator and it fell a few floors to the basement. I was Ziva's cushion." He griped, knowing he probably had at least one broken rib. But if that was all he was walking away with, he knew he was lucky.

"Find McGee, get him to a new computer." Abby half-shouted. "I think he was near finding something!"

"He can handle that himself, Abs. We've got to get ourselves out of here first. I'm sure Vance already has him installed somewhere." Gibbs pointed out, and after a few minutes trying to gather themselves and take proper stock of their injuries, they slowly made their way to the stairwell, hoping it wasn't blocked.

It was littered with more debris and the further they went up, the worse the damage was. There were a couple of women's shoes discarded on the steps and more than one briefcase had either been lost or abandoned in the melee to get out. Emerging out onto the ground floor, they found that the entire foyer had disappeared into rubble, with electrical cables dangling and fritzing every time they hit one another.

The place was already swarming with personnel from the Navy Yard, and a full company of Marines that had been attending a ceremony on the Barry were advancing on them, still in full dress uniform that was already covered in dust. Gibbs quickly handed Abby off to one of them, ordering the man to make sure she got medical treatment, and spotted Vance across the street, sitting on a kerb as he stared at what was left of his car.

"Director?"

Vance was more shaken than he was hurt by the blast, but Gibbs realised he probably had a heavy enough concussion, though the only visible injury was a cut to his forehead. He blinked up at Gibbs tiredly and gestured with his hand.

"They're organising search crews. Two have already gone in for a sweep of the ground floor. Headcount says there's still twenty missing." He blinked again and shook his head, immediately regretting it as the world began to swim. "Your team?"

"Me, Abby, DiNozzo and David are accounted for. You got McGee?"

Vance sighed and after a false-start, managed to get to his feet. "No, I don't, but that brings it down to sixteen missing. Check in with Delores; she's co-ordinating with the Marines, tell her to take your names off the list and then find McGee. We're going to need him if we're to find that bastard. And Gibbs; call your father and get DiNozzo and McGee to do the same. This is going to be all over the news."

As Vance was approached by more officials; this time the Fire Department, Gibbs headed back for the gaping hole in the front of the building, fishing for his phone. Miraculously, it was still working, and he dialled his father's number. "Dad, it's me. Just letting you know I'm alright if you've been watching the news. No, my team's alright too. Walking wounded only. I gotta go, dad." He hung up after the brief and to the point discussion and sent Ziva to Delores to 'check them in' and repeated Vance's orders.

"Where was he?"

"Vance said he was right behind him..." Gibbs trailed off as the implications hit him and slowly shook his head. "Head for the stairs, and work our way up. If he's still in there I'll kill him myself."

Tony nodded, his already sober mood growing grim, and followed the former Marine into the dust and darkness. Gibbs had snagged a torch from a passing Marine, and used it to sweep the floor and the stairs, noting more discarded clothes and belongings as they slowly tested each step to make sure it was stable. A pair of Marines passed them on the way down, carrying a stretcher as they gingerly navigated the stairs, trying to make haste but not fall themselves.

Tony glanced at the woman's face as they passed and recognised her as Elena from accounting; the woman had turned him down for a date on numerous occasions. She smiled wanly at him as they passed and he let his fingers graze her shoulder.

"Step easy, Tony." Came Gibbs's quiet caution as they approached what had once been the doors, and for the umpteenth time in twenty minutes, thanked God that the building had been re-fitted during the cold-war and had been structurally designed to withstand some form of blast; it was the only reason it was still standing. Emerging out into the ruined bullpen, it was clear that while the building had been refitted, it had been a bad idea not to replace the windows with something stronger, or smaller.

There wasn't a single desk or cupboard still standing, and only the faces staring down on them from the Most Wanted wall were still identifiable. The metal stairs and gangway were mostly destroyed too and half the ceiling had come down onto the room, obliterating their part of the bullpen.

Tony moved to start lifting the beams, only to freeze when his foot caught on something he recognised. "Boss, I've got his backpack!" He yelled, and Gibbs dropped the press he'd been moving and hurried over. They both began to hurriedly shift the debris and it was Gibbs that located the limp hand and that gave them a starting point to move the rest covering their Team Mate.

When he got to Tim's face, Gibbs was relieved to see his eyes flicker open, and a ghost of a smile crossed his face as he touched the man's cheek with the palm of his hand. "Easy Tim, we got you." He murmured as Tony dashed for the stairs to yell for a stretcher.

Tim's eyes blinked rapidly, and Gibbs began to worry as they didn't focus on him. He picked up his hand and squeezed it and got a tight grip in return, and Tim's mouth began moving rapidly. The silver-haired agent had to lean close to hear him speak, and frowned.

"Boss...boss...boss, the backpack, it's in the backpack, I got him and it's in the backpack, wrapped in my t-shirt, get the backpack boss, get the backpack, the th-thumb drive...it's in the backpack...you gotta get the backpack...get Dearing...in the backpack..."

It took a moment for him to realise what Tim was talking about, and as Tony returned he sharply ordered him to search the backpack, hoping that Tim was right and it wasn't the head injury talking. As Tony rifled through the bag, coming out with a bundled up t-shirt, he tried to soothe the badly injured man. Tim's eyes were still distant, and he had a suspicion that the kid wasn't hearing or seeing him as he tried to tell him it was all going to be alright.

"Boss, there's a drive in here." Tony confirmed, his face pale. Gibbs's voice was almost frantic as he told Tim over and over again that he was going to be ok.

"Get it to Vance; now!" Gibbs barked, and Tim blinked in shock and swallowed hard.

"Boss, you got it...get it to safety...stop Dearing, ok?"

"Ok, ok, Tim; we're going to get the bastard. Because of you, you hear me? We're gonna find him and stop him because of you."

A soft smile twisted Tim's lips and he blinked slowly, seeming to relax, and his grip on Gibbs's hand eased. "Tell 'em...will you...Sarah..."

"I know, Tim. I'll tell them."

Tony stood for a moment and a horrifying thought slipped into his suddenly numb mind. These could be Tim's last moments; it certainly felt like it. The thumb drive lay almost forgotten in his hand as Gibbs half-shouted that he didn't have his permission to die, and then suddenly he was being shouldered aside by two Marines, one carrying a medic's bag over his shoulder.

There was a flurry of activity and then they were gone through the opening to the stairs, carrying a precious cargo. Instead of shouting at Tony for not doing as he was ordered, Gibbs picked up his hand and gently removed the thumb drive as the first of the Rescue Teams approached them and tried to escort them back down the stairs.

Tony shook off their touch and made his own way down, but Gibbs took one final look around the devastated BullPen that had been his for longer than he cared to admit. Curling his fingers around the precious thumb drive, he turned sharply on his heel and hurried down the steps.

Approaching Vance at a half-run he took no notice of who the Director had been speaking to as he shouldered the man aside. "I need computer access and I need it now." He demanded, and Jarvis's eyebrow raised at his tone.

"Gibbs, this isn't the time or the pla-"

"McGee's sacrifice." Gibbs held up the thumb drive between two fingers, right in front of Vance's face. "This is McGee's sacrifice for NCIS and the Navy. He stayed behind for this, Leon. He stayed behind to get a fix on Dearing, and his last words to me before the Marines took him was to get Dearing. This is the time and this is the place."

Jarvis was already moving towards the car he'd come in which was parked haphazardly to one side, and grabbed a large briefcase. Shouldering Vance aside, he set it on the hood of the car and opened it, revealing a state of the art laptop, much like the one Gibbs had seen Dr. Ryan with. He took the thumb drive from Gibbs's hand and quickly attached it. There was a huge amount of files stored on it, and Gibbs fished in his shirt pocket for his glasses, grimacing when he saw one lens was shattered. Putting the unbroken one to his eye, he began to scan it with Vance and Jarvis, but the other two men could barely make sense of the file names.

"Open that one." Gibbs ordered quietly as he re-familiarised himself with McGee's thought process, and the three of them huddled around the screen as the file opened, showing a set of coordinates.

"Balboa's team are on their way back; they were in Virginia following a lead." Vance began steadily. "Gibbs, I know you want nothing more than to go get him, but your team are injured; they are fresh and better equipped right now to go after him. It's not just you he's attacked, but our entire Organisation, as well as the Navy. Contact them, and then get on to McGee's family...is he...?"

"Alive." The unvoiced 'for now' could clearly be heard and Vance nodded as the older man moved away, already putting the phone to his ear, barking out Balboa's name.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

In the Pentagon, people were moving with a panic that had last been seen in 2001. Many had been there when the Twin Towers had fallen, and when the plane had been flown into their own haven. Terrence McGee was on his way into the conference room that was holding the impromptu meeting of anyone who could give information or assist with the attack. He'd been summonsed with no idea of where the attack had been, but guessed it was another ship, and the armful of folders in his hand held every bit of information on possible other targets that he could muster.

As he entered the conference room with the other officials, his cell phone began to ring and he answered it with an apologetic grimace to the man by his side, moving out of the flow of people to try to get some privacy.

"Admiral; it's Gibbs."

Terry froze and took in a deep breath, suddenly terrified. "Gibbs...the bomb, that was you?!"

"Yes, Terry. I'm...Tim was inside; directly in front of the windows above where the bomb went off. He's on his way to Bethesda now. I don't know his status, but Admiral, Tim stayed behind to record and save information on the man that did this. He stayed behind to find the bastard. It's because of Tim we'll get him."

"You know who set it?" Terry wasn't aware of the room behind him had silenced as the Secretary of Homeland Security entered, as he had his back to the room, with one hand pressed to the side of his head. At the word Bomb, all eyes were on him, and Gibbs quietly told him what had been happening, and then made his apologies, promising to check in with him later. Terry shook his head as the line went dead and then hurriedly dialled the number Gibbs had given him for Bethesda.

"I need information on Special Agent Timothy McGee. I'm his father; he's just been brought in from the situation in the Naval Yard..."

He trailed off as the sound of typing travelled over the line, and then the woman was back talking with him, her voice low and sympathetic. "I'm sorry, Mr. McGee, but your son...he didn't make it. He was Deceased on Arrival-"

The phone fell from his hand as a wave of shock broke over him, and suddenly hands were helping him sit as his legs went weak, and a glass of water was placed at his lips, someone urging him to take a sip. When his mind came back to him, it was the Secretary herself crouching in front of him.

"Admiral?"

His response was as hollow as the numbness that filled him, and the hand resting on his shoulder tightened. "The bomb in the Naval Yard was set by a man called Dearing. He's the one set the bombs on the Brewer and Benjamin Franklin; his son was a Navy sailor who was killed by a manufacturing defect that could have easily been avoided, and he plans to take revenge on the Navy by exploiting similar weaknesses. When they began to get close, he set the bomb outside NCIS headquarters. My son is dead. He stayed behind to make sure they got him..." His eyes squeezed closed and a soft shudder ran through him as the words left his mouth. It had to be the hardest thing in the world to voice for the first time that your child had died.

"I'm sorry for your loss." Her eyes were filled with sympathy and a General approached hesitantly.

"The FBI have informed us that they are sending some teams to assist with the clean-up operations, help with ongoing cases and search for the Bomber. Ma'am..."

"It seems that this would have been a short meeting anyhow, since we know who it is. We all have our roles to fill; if anything more is required of you, you will be notified." Her dismissal was taken well, and the attendees filtered out of the room, discussion how they would respond to the threat, and assist the smallest Federal Agency in recouping their losses and surviving this heavy blow.

"Admiral McGee, I'll have a car brought round to bring you to your son."

XXXXX

The FBI had already done as promised, and it wasn't long before Fornell and his team were standing outside the cordoned off area in front of NCIS headquarters. Tobias snapped off orders as he ducked underneath the tape, and Sacks nodded, peeling away from the group to see if he could find a member of Gibbs's team to begin assessing the situation and work out how they could help to catch the bastard that had set the bomb. He normally didn't care much for the irreverent team, but now, all bets were off; no one attacked a Federal Agency, especially not on their own turf.

Behind a fire engine, he found DiNozzo standing with his forehead pressed against the cool metal, eyes squeezed shut and hands balled into fists. He stood watching for a long moment as the dark haired man drew his hand back suddenly and punched the metal. He was pulling back for another blow when a hand fastened around his wrist, holding it immobile.

"Breaking your hand isn't going to help stop this maniac." Sacks drawled quietly, and wasn't too shocked when Tony rounded on him. He was surprised that the man didn't swing for him, and frowned when he realised that Tony's eyes were red-raw. "You ok?"

"McGee's dead." Tony swallowed hard and wrenched his wrist out of the dark skinned man's hand. Turning, he kicked the fire engine's tire viciously and took a couple of steps away and pressed his hands to the top of his head. "How in any way, on any world can that be ok?"

"We'll find him." The conviction in Sack's voice was enough to make Tony turn and face him. "DiNozzo, no matter what crap we've been through, nobody hurts a Federal Agency and gets away with it. We will find him. And then we will crush him. Do the rest of your team know?"

The fire in Tony's eyes that had appeared at the mention of crushing, died, and he swallowed hard. "No. I called for an update..."

Sacks beckoned him to follow, and for once, the two men walked shoulder to shoulder without bickering or fighting. They found Fornell, Gibbs and Vance talking quietly, and Tony squared his shoulders before walking up to them.

"DiNozzo, we've just had a call from Balboa; They've traced the house that McGee highlighted and are reaching the farm now. Local PD have the place surrounded but are laying low. A SWAT team are en route and two FBI teams are joining them." Vance looked highly stressed and Tony nodded, chewing at the inside of his lip worriedly. "I heard from Palmer too; Ducky had a heart attack when he got the call to come back. He's in hospital, and they think he'll be ok. Palmer's catching the first flight back with his Father-in-Law, they're gonna help out, but in the meantime, the FBI have offered the use of their Morgue and Labs."

Sacks frowned at the quietly stated reminder of the losses that had been suffered. Ten dead, and god only knew how badly others were seriously wounded. Tony nodded, and then drew in a deep breath.

"I just called in for an update on McGee, boss." He suddenly found he couldn't say the words and Gibbs looked as though he'd been poleaxed. "Yeah...he, he didn't survive the journey. His dad's been notified..." Tony swallowed hard and dropped his gaze to the ground between his feet. "Probie's dead, boss..."

Behind him, Ziva stopped as she was approaching, and shook her head hard. "Tony, no-"

Tony turned and she paled when she saw the expression in his eyes. "He's gone, Ziva."

The Israeli leant heavily against what was left of a car and closed her eyes, covering her mouth with her hand, reaching for her Star of David with the other. Tony wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, burying his face in her hair.

Gibbs felt numb. He ignored Fornell asking if he was ok and after a moment's hesitation, grabbed the keys out of his friend's hand and climbed into the FBI agent's car. To his credit, Fornell didn't protest, and even Vance only gave a weak one as Ziva and Tony scrambled to get in before Gibbs took off; they all knew where he was going and they wanted vengeance as much as he did.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The Admiral entered Bethesda and bypassed the mad-house that was the ER department. He approached the front desk, looking as numb as he felt and leant heavily on it as he waited for a nurse to approach him. "My son was brought here from the Naval Yard; I've been informed of his death, but I'd like to see him. Please." He added, his voice breaking slightly. The woman's face grew grave and she nodded.

"Of course, Admiral. One minute." She took his name and summoned a porter, talking quietly with him for a moment. "Private Jackson will bring you to see him, sir."

Terry followed him into the elevator and as it descended towards the morgue, he steeled himself against what was to come. He'd already buried one son, and he'd hoped never to have to do this again. A morgue assistant was waiting, and Terry was led into a small viewing room, where a sheet-covered body lay. The room swam around him as the sheet was drawn down past the face, and he couldn't focus on the features for a long moment. Finally, he drew in a deep breath, and half a second later blurted out "That isn't Timothy!"

"Are you sure?" The morgue assistant asked defensively and Terry glared at him, grabbing the edge of the sheet and lifting it up.

"Pretty damn sure my son hasn't had his tattoo removed." He pointed at the unmarked skin on the body's hip and dropped the sheet again. "Find. My. Son!"

A half hour later, he was brought up to the surgical wing, and a few well-placed demands had him brought into an observation room overlooking an OR. One of the surgeons glared at a masked and gloved nurse as she moved a piece of gauze to reveal a tattoo on a hip and Terry gripped the windowsill tightly.

"Take damn good care of my son; you've already misplaced him once." He snapped at the administrator who had been shadowing him since the mistake had been found. The man blanched but nodded, assuring him that Tim would receive the best care possible. Tim's injuries were grave, but not insurmountable, and Terry felt the icy fist that had held his heart since he'd first heard the news begin to thaw. There was life; that meant there was hope.

The surgery wouldn't be over for hours yet, and after about an hour of listless waiting, he walked outside into the bright, mocking sunlight, drawing in a deep breath. Wordlessly, a man standing beside him held out a packet of cigarettes and Terry took one automatically, trying to ignore how much his hand was shaking as he used the mans lighter. Taking out his phone, he dialled Gibbs's number, frowning as it rang out.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX XXXXXXX

By the time they got to the farmhouse, it was all over. The house itself was up in flames, as well as two of the local PD's cars. A body was lying in the dust and Gibbs strode past Balboa, turning it onto its back so he could see its face.

"It's him." He called over his shoulder at Tony and Ziva and Mathew Balboa nodded.

"Yeah; just called it into Vance. He ran straight out, firing. Looks like he was making his last stand. He had a kill switch in his hand. When he dropped, the house went up. Surprised you came out here with all the crap going on at the Yard. What's the situation there? Vance wasn't in the mood for conversation."

"Eleven dead. Ducky had a heart attack when he got the news, and McGee died getting the coordinates on this asshole." Tony snapped and Balboa and the agents around them blanched.

"Tim's dead?"

Gibbs's reply was drowned out by the sound of his cellphone ringing and he ignored it to stare at the Agent. "He's dead. Didn't even make it to the hospital."

"Boss. You might want to get that-" Tony began, but the glare he received cut him off. "It might be the Admiral."

The glare intensified, but Gibbs took out his phone and rang the number, his anger still evident on his face. "Gibbs." He listened for a long moment that stretched out and looked down at the body at his feet. "I'm standing over the body of the sonuvabitch now, Admiral….Understood…we'll be there as soon as we can." He hung up and after a couple of seconds, scuffed his toe in the dust. "DiNozzo, you can stop working out what DVDs you were gonna take from McGee's place."

Tony opened and closed his mouth, protesting that he wasn't, and it was Ziva that caught on to what he was saying. "Gibbs, he's alive?"

"Mistaken identity. He's still in surgery, and not in great condition, but the Admiral is hopeful. Balboa, this scene is all yours." Mathew grinned and nodded as they got back into the car and sped away, passing a fire engine on its way to put out the blaze.

By the time they reached Bethesda, Tim was out of surgery and the Admiral was dozing in a chair in the waiting room. Vance was seated beside him, sipping on a Styrofoam cup of coffee, sporting a new bandage on his head. He looked exhausted and Tony felt sorry for the man as they traipsed in. He'd had a long day, and he guessed it wasn't going to be over any time soon.

"Everybody else is expected to survive, and be able to return to active duty in the future." He murmured as they dropped heavily into the chairs around them. "Ms. Scuito was here for a while, but she's flying down to Florida to be with Dr. Mallard. She wanted me to remind you that someone has to take care of the dog while Tim is out of action."

"I'll do it."Gibbs murmured softly and sat back tiredly as the emotion of the day began to catch up with him. Tony brought them all coffee and after an hour or so, Vance made his excuses and left to go home and catch a few hours sleep before having to deal with what the dawn would bring.

For the team, the dawn brought a fresh round of coffee and donuts and the news that Tim was being moved from intensive care to his own room. He'd survived the surgery, and the night and for all intents and purposes, had stabilised well enough to be moved. The internal bleeding had stopped, and his head injury brought no corresponding brain swelling. Broken bones and lacerations would heal and mend in their own time, and the internal organs bruised by the concussive blast that had torn through the bullpen were coping well with the strain, and would also heal.

Now all they had to do was wait for him to wake up. Having heard that could take another day or two, Gibbs sent Tony and Ziva home to sleep. They protested, but exhaustion won through and they left him and the Admiral alone to face the day. "You told Penny and Sarah yet?"

"Not until I know he's going to be ok." Terry shook his head. "They're both still in Paris; I don't want to upset either of them any more than I have to." Catching the look in Gibbs's eye he sighed. "Yeah, I'm a chicken."

Gibbs smirked and shrugged. "Can't say I blame you. I've met both of them. Wouldn't cross either of them for all the coffee in the fleet."

"Amen to that." The Admiral took another sip of coffee and then beckoned Gibbs to follow him down the hall to Tim's room. He was relieved to see he wasn't on a ventilator, though there were still too many sensors and machines for comfort. All of his vital signs were strong though and they settled in to wait on too-hard chairs at the back of the room so they wouldn't be in the way of the nurses and doctors that were constantly coming in and out to check on him.

`They were relieved a few hours later by Tony, and when they returned, the Italian was gone and Ziva was seated at the foot of the bed, reading aloud from a magazine. It took Gibbs a second to work out what she was reading, and he bit back a smirk when he realised the magazine was a woman's magazine and the article was about high heels.

"Don't know how much he's gonna appreciate that, Zever." He murmured, and she shrugged, flipping the page.

"I do not know if he is listening or not, and I would rather gouge out my eyes with a blunt spoon than read a car, boob or computer magazine. He is lucky I am reading to him at all. Have you seen to the dog or do you wish me to retrieve him?"

Gibbs shook his head and leant against the window. "He's settled in my back yard with a bone. He should be fine. Any sign of him waking?"

Ziva closed the magazine and looked up at the admiral, who was holding his hand against his son's forehead. "He groaned about an hour ago, but since then there has been no sign of him waking."

Terry nodded and continued to stare down at his son. They traded off sitting with him during the day, and it was sheer luck that Terry was there on his own when Tim's eyes finally flickered open around dawn and stared up at the ceiling.

"Hey Tim." He soothed quietly and moved into Tim's line of sight. Tim blinked slowly at him and worked his mouth for a moment before managing to whisper 'dad?'

"I'm here, son. You just missed Gibbs; he's gone out for coffee. You're gonna be ok."

"Dearing?"

"Dead as a doornail. Some guy called Balboa and his team got him. Thanks to you, son."

"Thought…afraid…too late…"

"No, son. You did real good. Saved a lot of lives. Now don't do anything as stupid as that again, you hear me? "

Tim smiled wanly and closed his eyes. "'K, dad. Everybody ok?"

"They will be, now you're awake." Terry smiled down at his son and having checked to make sure no one was watching, he dropped his head down and landed a gentle kiss on his son's forehead. "I love you, son."

"I love you too, dad."

Outside the door, Gibbs smiled as he heard Tim's voice and walked away with a slight spring in his step. Ducky was recovering well, and now Tim was awake. Whatever storms were ahead of them all, they would weather them together; as a family.