They were searching for clues around the site where the body had been found, out in the Virginia wilderness. Two campers had come across the slain officer while out on what was supposed to be a relaxing weekend away for them.
Tim and Tony were working their way around the south side of the crime scene when Tim came across a stray scrap of paper that appeared to be some sort of receipt. He had just bent forward to photograph it when a sudden gust of wind snatched the paper up. It whirled towards the edge of a deep gorge that dropped down at least twenty-five feet to a creek.
He took a few steps forward to grab it; it could very well be evidence, and they needed to make sure all items around the crime scene were well documented and brought back for Abby.
Just as his fingers touched the paper, the loose dirt near the edge of the drop off shifted, and he felt himself falling forward. His arms pinwheeled for a moment as he tried to regain his balance. He heard Tony’s shout of “McGee!” as he toppled forwards.
There was a split second where he felt the weightless sensation of a free fall, then his body slammed into the side of the gorge. His left side connected with what felt like a sharp rock, and pain shot through his abdomen. Almost without thinking, he grabbed onto the first hold with which his hands came into contact. He felt splinters digging into his palms as the scraggly tree bent under his weight, cracking slightly.
“McGee!”
The shout came from above, and Tim squinted up. Tony was leaning over the side, his right arm outstretched.
“Come on; grab my hand,” Tony instructed.
His arms were already starting to ache from both the quick stop they had provided and from supporting all of his weight. Tim reached up as far as he could, straining to grasp the other agent’s hand, but there was still at least six inches between them.
Tony shifted, sending a rain of dirt and loose gravel down. Tim’s vision watered as several particles hit his eyes, causing an itching, burning sensation. There was less of a gap now; Tony was hanging even further over the side, still holding out his hand. “Come on; you can do it,” he encouraged.
It seemed to take a monumental effort, but Tim managed to reach up just enough. Their hands touched, and they each grasped the other tightly.
Tony grunted, straining as he pulled backwards, exerting all his strength to haul the other man back up onto solid ground. A moment later, two more pairs of hands joined Tony’s, and Tim was soon lying on his side on the grass.
Ziva pulled the camera strap over Tim’s head, setting it to the side as she worriedly checked him over. He had managed to lose his cap in the fall. “Are you all right, McGee?” she inquired.
He nodded, pushing himself to sit up. “I’m fine.”
Gibbs gave him one of those raised eyebrow looks he always did when he was trying to decide if one of his agents was being honest about a certain situation. “You sure, Tim?”
“Yeah.” He nodded again, reaching for his camera. It had survived intact, with only a few scratches on its case.
“But you might want to stay away from steep edges from now on, McHumpty-Dumpty,” Tony offered with a grin.
Tim rolled his eyes and got to his feet. His palms were still stinging and his arms and side were aching, but it was nothing that wouldn’t wear off after a while. For now, they needed to get back to processing the scene. Murders weren’t going to solve themselves.
Author's Chapter Notes:
"Come on; grab my hand."
Chapter End Notes:
Rated: FR7
Warnings: None
Genre: Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: None
Genre: Hurt/Comfort