Another Probie

Eleven

Olivia POV
Almost all of us are out of wheelchairs almost six months after our accident. Tony's still paralyzed. He fucking hates it. He still goes to the occasional crime scene to take photos, but sometimes he can't get the camera high enough and keep his legs out of it. It's really funny to watch, actually.

Ziva POV
We had an early morning case, and Tony hadn't been able to sleep, so he came along and was trying to take photos. I think you can guess why I say trying. Suddenly he dropped the camera on his lap, and something on the lens cap poked him.

"Ow!" Tony said. Then the strangest look came over his face. "Wait a a second. Ow. Ow! I felt it!" Tony whooped. He promptly tried to stand up. He fell on his face. Ducky rushed over.

"Tony, you haven't used your legs in almost six months, if I've counted correctly. You'll need physical therapy to strengthen them. You'll likely need to keep the chair or a walker for a while." Ducky informed Tony. "Didn't you remember McGee?" Duck asked, laughing. Tony looked up at the kindly ME and sighed. Ducky shook his head and got back to work. McGee and Gibbs were helping Tony back into the wheelchair.

Gibbs flipped open his cell to make a call. Upon hanging up, he informed Tony that he had a doctor's appointment to schedule physical therapy.

Olivia POV
As Gibbs made Tony an appointment, I started thinking back. I, at this point, was no stranger to PT. Even as a kid I'd had an X-Ray file as thick as my forearm. A couple cracked ribs, a broken knee, and a few broken ankles from playing football with my brothers. I wished I could see them. They were all deployed in Israel, all five of them, where I'd been. We'd occasionally see each other on base.

I also remembered the time we all smashed into each other and all broke a foot somehow. That was from football too. My oldest brother Derek had the football, and Andrew, Josh, Aaron, Monty, and I had all tried to tackle him. At once. It failed miserably and ended with six kids in the ER holding their feet.

SMACK! "Reynolds! Move it!" Gibbs yelled. I said nothing but got back to work taking photos and occasionally assisting Tony. I was still thinking about my big brothers. I'm the youngest, but they always treated me like one of the guys and I loved every second of it.

Soon enough, we were done at the crime scene. Gibbs tod us to head to the hospital so we could all be there for Tony. Abbs could process evidence and have stuff waiting for us.

McGee POV
At the hospital, we were sitting in the waiting room outside the PT wing, waiting for Tony to finish his session. Soon enough, an exhausted-looking Tony wheeled out to us. He looked ready to die. I knew we all remembered that, Olivia more than most. She'd regaled us with the stories of how she and her brothers had gotten hurt and even showed us a pictures of her X-Ray file. The thing was huge!

That girl just can't stay out of trouble. She's already gotten shot since getting out of the hospital, but it wasn't bad and healed up quickly.

ONE MONTH LATER

Olivia POV
I was remembering a few more things I'd done with my big brothers when Gibbs called me to MTAC. He was smiling. I wondered what that man was up to now. I got up and made my way to MTAC and Gibbs. I went in and saw five uniformed men standing in a row. Military training kicked in and I walked to the center of them and saluted. They saluted back sharply, and then one spoke.

"Midgie, whattaya doin' limping?" he said in a familiar Irish accent.

"Yeah, Doogie, what are ya doin', getting hurt when your big brothers can't murder whoever did it?" Midgie, Doogie. Those were my brothers' nicknames for me. My hand went to my mouth and I staggered a little.

"Derek? Monty? Aaron?" I asked. Three of the men nodded. "Andrew and Josh?" The other two nodded. I leapt at the middle one, and they all surrounded me. "Come in the hall. I can't see any of ya." I said.

"Still haven't lost your Irish accent, huh, Doogie?" I shook my head grinning. Now I could see them. Immediately I noticed something awry.

"Josh. Fucking explain your face." I demanded. "And you, Aaron. Have you got broken ribs?" You're holding yourself real careful." Josh and Aaron grinned. "Monty. Your ankle. Andrew! Your wrist! And Derek. Your ankle. God, boys, y'all still need a nanny, tu buachailli dur!" you stupid boys! I exclaimed. "Oldest to youngest. Explanations. Go." I said, pointing at Derek.

"Cargo net on a training exercise. I fell and accidentally landed on my feet." Josh was next.

"Little bit of shrapnel and some bramble." I shook my head.

"Combat. Got blown back by a land mine. Pretty weak one." Aaron said.

"Been there." I said. I showed them my burn scars and a few other scars. They looked at me as if I were insane. "I know, shoulda told y'all. My job's a little demanding." I said.

"Combat. Fell over a stock pile in a ditch." Monty followed. I looked at Andrew.

"Tried to save a guy who was falling over a cliff in combat. I saved this ass, but he was twisting all round and he broke my wrist cause he twisted it all the way around." finished Andrew. I started at the end of the line and planted a kiss on each of their noses, which was followed by a kiss on my forehead. All of my brothers are 6'5" or taller cause both of my parents are real tall. Yet somehow I'm real short. They had to bend down so I could kiss their noses. I backed up so I could see them all and saluted sharply. They saluted back and I smiled.

"How long are y'all in town, boys?" I asked. Derek told me they were there til the end of the weekend. I smiled. We had until Sunday night. It was Friday. This was the longest I'd spent with them. What worried me, though, was that they'd all been put in the same unit due to a fluke but hadn't bothered to try and fix it. See, the US Military doesn't like siblings together. The reason I don't like it is because if I lose one brother, I could very well lose them all. Having had five brothers, going down to none would absolutely destroy me.

The weekend passed all too fast. We played a game of football, and, despite everyone's injuries, it was a real hard core game, since we're all in the Marines, which is the best and toughest branch of the military.

On Saturday, I figured I ought to come clean about what happened to me. Some of the scars I showed therm were from my four months of captivity. I gathered them all in the main area of my apartment, where I was back to living again. I'd also gotten myself a pitbull named Mason, after our granddad, who died in combat during WWII.

As we all settled onto my couch, my brothers looked worried. Mason came over and settled down in my lap.

"Guys, not all the scars you saw were from work. It was a while ago, but Iwasheldcaptiveforfourmonthsandtortured." I said fast. My brothers told me to slow down. I swallowed and tried again. "I was held captive for four months and tortured." I said, slower this time. I heard my brothers gasp.

"Show us." Monty said. I reluctantly pulled up my shirt. "All the way. We need to see all of it." I nodded. I showed them what was from the explosion, like my limp from having had a broken leg. I broke it so bad that my left leg is now shorter than my right, plus that was where I was shot before NCIS showed up-- my left knee. I showed them my two gunshot wounds, one in my left knee and the other in my right side. I showed them my knife and lash marks, plus all the marks from where I'd been kicked around.

When I'd finished, my brothers folded me into their embrace. They had long ago mastered the six-person hug. When that pulled away, they looked about ready to murder someone. I assured them that both torturers were six feet under.

"I'd'a put 'em twelve feet down." Derek grumbled. I smiled and assured him that six feet was plenty, despite his protestations that if it was shorter than him, they weren't far enough down. I sighed. I have the best brothers.