Tim couldn't say that Mike Franks was high on his list of people he liked. While he trusted Franks and knew him to be a man dedicated to protecting the innocent, Tim couldn't get past his crass and often abrasive demeanor. But working together wasn't about liking the person.

"Are you listening to me, McGee?" Franks snapped before another shot rang out. They both ducked down, covering their heads.

"I'm listening," Tim assured him as he tentatively looked up. "What's the plan?"

Franks had flown into the day before D.C. when an old foe had resurfaced, though Gibbs had all but ordered him to stay in Mexico. "Cooperation isn't your forte, Mike," Gibbs had said with a bemused smile when Franks had shown up in the squad room.

They had gotten a tip about where said foe—a drug lord by the name of Manuel Cartez—was hiding, so Gibbs had left Tim with the very important job of guarding Franks while he, Tony, and Ziva went off to nab the drug lord. When armed men had shown up at the safe house, it became quite evident that the so-called tip had been a ploy to lure them away. Tim and Franks had taken cover behind an overturned table and were huddled there at the moment while they assessed the situation and figured out the best course of action.

"The plan is to shoot those suckers!"

Tim all but rolled his eyes. "That's not much of a plan."

"Always works for me."

"Yeah, well we're greatly outnumbered here and running low on ammo."

"How many out there?"

"I saw at least four, but there maybe others. We can't take them all. If I could get to my phone, I could call for back-up."

"So do it!"

"Oh, yeah, I'll just ask them to grant us a time out while I run to get my cell phone off the table."

Their harsh words were interrupted by another shot. "Come out!" called a voice. "We know you are in here! Do not make this difficult for us!"

Franks snorted. "Right, 'cause we want to make it easy for them."

Tim shushed him as he peeked around the table warily. He noted with pride that one body was lying motionless on the couch and that another man was clutching at his bleeding arm. Still, there were two still standing.

"One down and one wounded. Bullet to the arm," he whispered to Franks. "Our chances of surviving have gone up."

"Is Cartez out there?"

"Not that I saw."

"Good, I've got a plan."

"Thank God."

"I'm going to surrender myself."

Tim did a double take, not sure he'd heard correctly. "What?"

"Did I stutter?" he snarled. "I hand myself over and while they're focused on me and have their guard down, you can take out the remaining ones. The one with the wound won't be much good and I figure you're good enough to at least take out one of the other ones."

"No," Tim said firmly, shaking his head, "no, I can't let you do that. You get killed, Gibbs will kill me."

"They're not going to kill me. Cartez will want that pleasure. They're just the delivery boys."

"And what if he's waiting out there and I just can't see him?"

"Well, that's a chance we'll have to take. That is, unless you've got a better plan."

Tim didn't have any plan, let alone a better one, but he still wasn't sold on the idea. "Gibbs has to have figured out the top was bogus by now. They're probably on the way back. We can hold these guys off until then."

"You do what you want, but I'm going out there."

"Franks!"

"Listen, McGee, the most important thing to remember when working as a team is cooperation! Now you're either with me or your not. I'm not going to be a sitting duck for some drug lackeys and I won't let you be one either."

Tim frowned. They were running out of options. Sure, Franks might get killed on the spot, but he was just as dead if they sat there. He had to take a chance.

"Go," he said with a nod.

"I was going to," Franks shot back. "Don't need your permission."

With that, he scurried out into the open, hands held up high. "Okay, okay! I give up!"

"Drop your gun," one of the men called. Tim heard a loud thus as the gun fell to the floor. "Now get over here, and keep your hands up."

Tim peeked around and saw Franks walking toward them slowly, hands in the air. Both of the remaining men were completely focused on him. The wounded one had taken a seat, his blood-soaked hand still wrapped around his arm. With that amount of blood loss, it was only a few moments until he fell unconscious.

It was now or never.

He jumped up, gun poised, and took his shot. It hit one of them, but the other grabbed his gun, quickly turning to shoot Tim. Luckily, Franks was quicker. He pulled a gun from seemingly out of nowhere and put a round into the remaining guy, knocking him back into the coffee table.

Only Tim and Franks remained standing.

Franks clapped Tim on the back of his shoulder as Gibbs' car squealed to a halt outside. "Thanks for your cooperation, McGee."

AN: Thanks for reading! I've never written Franks before (he's not exactly my favorite character), so hopefully this was very in-character for him.