Disclaimer: I do not own or have any affiliations with NCIS, CBS, Paramount, or Belisarius Productions.

A/N: This fic is based solely on one episode of NCIS and that is "Probie" from season three. I haven't really taken into account anything from other episodes even though I've seen many more. McGee has always been one of my favorite characters and this particular episode really intrigued me. A lot of this fic includes scenes from the episode, but I also expanded on it. Hopefully I wrote it well enough that you can read it and enjoy it whether you have or have not seen the episode. I realize that some parts of this may be somewhat unrealistic (like McGee telling his friend all about the case) but call it artistic license.

Please review – this is the first NCIS fan fic I've written and I had a lot of fun with it. I definitely want to hear what you think, but please keep it nice. I don't like mean people. Really, who does?

Enjoy!

Chapter 1

"Why aren't you answering my calls? And why aren't you calling me back?"

Timothy McGee sighed and flipped his phone shut without listening to the rest of the voicemail. He knew Gabrielle was worried about him, but he wasn't ready to talk to her. Not yet. Right now he just wanted some peace and quiet. It had been a long, hard night. Probably the hardest of his life. He dropped his bag onto the floor and set his phone on the desk. He just needed a few minutes to himself.

After taking a hot shower and changing into shorts and a t-shirt, McGee didn't really feel any better, except that he felt he was thinking more clearly. It was probably time to call Gabrielle. He sank onto the couch, cradling his cell in both hands. He had never been so hesitant to call his best friend before. What could he say to her after a night like tonight?

"Hi, it's me, your good old best friend. Not much going on here. Oh yeah, I killed a guy tonight." McGee spoke the words out loud, sarcastically. But they didn't help him to feel better, either. He frowned and speed-dialed Gabrielle's number before he could change his mind. She was easy to talk to – maybe the right words would just come to him.

She answered after the first ring. And she didn't sound happy. "Timothy McGee! I have been worried sick! Why didn't you answer? Or call me back? Even a text would have sufficed!" Gabrielle paused for a breath, but McGee didn't say anything. "Tim? You there?"

"Yeah. Hi, Gabby."

"What's wrong?" McGee could just picture her furrowed brow. They'd known each other so long, she could tell almost instantly when something was wrong. McGee had never regretted that before tonight. He didn't reply right away, and Gabrielle pressed, "Tim, you'd better tell me what's wrong or I'm going to drive over there right now. And you know this isn't just an empty threat. I'm putting on my shoes as I speak."

"Okay, okay. Don't get out of bed, I'll tell you."

"How did you know I'm in bed?"

"Because it's late. You're always in bed by now."

"Good point. So. Spill."

McGee took a deep breath. The words weren't magically coming to him as he'd hoped they would. He was just going to have to blurt it out. "Um…I'm not sure how to say this. It's not good…"

"Like a Band-Aid, Tim. Just get it over with."

"I killed someone tonight."

Gabrielle was silent for a good thirty seconds. McGee didn't say anything, knowing she had heard and was taking time to digest what he had said and formulate her response. When she did speak, her voice was low and deadly serious. "Are you okay?"

McGee shook his head. "Gab, I killed someone and you're asking me if I'm okay? Aren't you more worried about the other guy?"

"No. You're my best friend. I'm worried about you." There was rustling in the background. "I'm putting my shoes on. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"No, really, please, don't—"

"Don't argue with me."

McGee sighed. He had been afraid she would react this way. "Really, Gabrielle, it's late. I'm tired. I really need to get some sleep so I can function at work tomorrow. Just stay there."

She paused. "Well…tell me what happened and then I'll decide."

McGee told the story as quickly and passively as he could. He didn't say what assignment he'd been on – protecting a CNO after he'd received a death threat – but he explained how he'd been keeping an eye out for the rest of the team when he saw a car in the alley. After he'd identified himself, the man standing outside the car arguing with the occupants had whirled around and fired. McGee had fired back, the SUV drove away, and the man was dead on the scene. It only took moments to tell the story, but as he relived the incident in his mind, McGee felt like he was watching it in slow motion. When he stopped talking, it took Gabrielle a few seconds to reply.

"Are you okay?"

"Honestly, I don't know." McGee closed his eyes and rested his head on the back of the couch. "I wish I could say. I just don't know what I feel right now. Numb, I guess. Maybe I'm in shock. I just wish I could rewind my life twelve hours and redo. Everything's so jumbled up right now."

"Do you need me to come over?" Gabrielle whispered. "I really want to be there for you right now."

"You are."

"Over the phone doesn't count," she scoffed.

"It's good enough for now. We both need sleep because we both have jobs to do tomorrow. I do appreciate the thought, though, you know."

"I know." Gabrielle sounded as upset as McGee felt. "I'm sorry, Timmy, I wish I could do something for you."

The nickname made McGee smile. She was the only one who could get away with calling him that, and had been since they were eight. "You're doing it right now." McGee stood and walked into the bedroom, flipping the light switch on the wall as he went by. "Hey, Gabby, I'm getting in bed right now. I'll call you tomorrow."

"I'm taking you to dinner."

"Well…I'm not sure what tomorrow's going to hold. I'll call you and we can talk about it then." McGee slid between the cool sheets on his bed, already knowing he wouldn't get any sleep but also knowing he had to at least rest.

Gabrielle huffed. "Well, all right. But you had better call me, for real, or I'm going to hunt you down and drag you out to eat somewhere whether you're busy or not."

"I know."

"It's only for your own good! And I haven't seen you in ages anyway."

"I know."

"Call me if you need me, Tim. Anytime. You know that. Regardless if it's big or small."

"I know."

"Now you need to get some rest."

McGee cracked a small smile again. Hadn't he been the one trying to explain that to Gabrielle for the past few minutes? "I know."

"Call me!"

"I will."

"Bye."

"Bye." McGee hung up and gently set the phone on the nightstand. The room was engulfed in darkness when the phone's light went out. Only the digital clock on the dresser across his bedroom offered any kind of light.

Two a.m.

He had killed a man yesterday.