At the moment, they knew nothing of the troubles ahead of them, only of the troubles behind them, and the troubles that had escaped out the window. Lemony Snicket

"Put the gun down!" The man who had a tight grip on Tony seemed comfortable holding the gun, comfortable, even, with staring one down.

McGee glanced at Tony, who nodded almost imperceptibly. McGee uncurled his fingers, holding the gun between his thumb and pointer and thrusting his hands in the air. "Okay, fine." He let the gun go and it landed with a clatter at his feet. Tony winced slightly at the noise, the concussion making the sound a hundred times louder.

"Where's Murphey?" The man demanded, his gun pointed at McGee even as his grip on Tony tightened. When neither one answered, he said, louder, "Where is he?"

"He's dead." Tony managed, the arm around his neck choking him. "Found this morning. You the roommate? Or partner? Or maybe the boyfriend?"

"Tony." McGee snapped, watching, wide-eyed, as the gun got pointed at his friend's head. "Hey!" And, finally, that whistle that Abby had been trying to teach him for three months finally came out, causing the man's head to snap back to McGee. "Why don't you let him go and we'll tell you about your friend. You want to know what happened to him?"

The man's face hardened and his grip on the gun, firm and steady until then, wavered. But he did point it back at McGee, which was his intent all along. "No."

Several things happened at once, beginning with Tony being a general idiot. He arched his back, jabbing his elbows into his captor's stomach and trying to turn, but he wasn't quick enough.

McGee lunged for his gun as soon as he saw Tony go into action, because if this was going downhill he didn't want their assailant to be the only one armed.

And the man who'd been lying in wait in the house let go of Tony, took his hard, practiced jab that had nailed a hundred criminals on Tony's Baltimore beat without flinching. Then he delivered a stunning blow of his own, hitting Tony hard in the ribs and knocking him back against the wall. As he ran out the door he shot of rounds at random, because he knew that that other agent behind him would be doing the same thing.

All those actions took place in less than nine seconds.

Tony sagged against the wall, dazed, then let out a groan. "Well, that could have gone better." He propped himself up on one arm, using the other to balance himself against the wall because at the moment gravity was working overtime to try to bring him down. "Probie?"

The room was now officially a wreck. A chair and a flimsy table had both been knocked out of the way by their assailant, who was now long gone. Already Tony was pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, still looking around the room. He was not looking forward to telling Gibbs what had happened.

But even as he pressed the phone against his ear he knew something was wrong. McGee would probably be talking by now – it seemed that the guy never stopped talking, especially when they were in trouble. He should have been blaming Tony, or poking fun at the fact that the Senior Agent had to prop himself against the wall just to stand.

"Probie?"

McGee groaned and forced his head up, a grimace spreading across his features. "Here, Tony." He managed to shake one of his legs and Tony rushed over, moving the chair off the more inexperienced agent.

"Oh, McGee." All the teasing that was usually so prevalent in Tony's nature was dropped as he watched the blood spread quickly across his partner's torso. "Where?"

"Shoulder, I think." McGee gritted his teeth through the waves of pain that threatened to overtake his body. "Right at the joint."

"Of course." Tony said, then changed his tone as the phone stopped ringing. "Boss? The house wasn't empty…no, he got the jump on us. Long story…listen, you need to send an ambulance over stat." He didn't elaborate, couldn't, because the blood on McGee was threatening to overtake his vision. So he just snapped the phone shut and pressed both hands against the bleeding arm.

"What about the snake bite?" Tony said, removing McGee's shirt to get closer to the wound.

"Thought you were going to get a Band-Aid." McGee hissed, back arching slightly against the pain in his arm. "You seemed to have gotten distracted."

"Hey, you were supposed to check the bathroom." And perhaps it would become a formal reprimand later, or at least a good dressing down, but right now Tony's voice was gentle, with just a hint of admonishment at the oversight of procedures. "I always look behind the curtains myself, but I think it's just because I saw Psycho one too many times."

"You see every movie one too many times." McGee bit out, watching warily as Tony swabbed his cut. "Shouldn't you be out looking for that guy?"

Tony glanced out the door and blew out a breath, because he really did hate letting suspects get away. "Thought you were dead, McGeek, and the Boss would have had my head if it wasn't the Senior Agent dying on the job. By the time I realized that your heart was, in fact, still beating, he was already out of sight."

McGee snorted, because he knew for a fact that Tony hadn't checked to make sure anybody was out of sight, but then he relaxed, submitting totally to the other man's ministrations. "Thanks, Tony."

"Don't mention it, Probie." He had already torn off McGee's sleeve to get to the cuts, the bullet wound and snake bite, but now he had to use the discarded fabric as a bandage, wrapping it around the twin fang puncture wounds, leaving his hands free to press, hard, against the younger agent's shoulder. "You know, this reminds me of a movie…"

"Of course it does." McGee pretended to roll his eyes, secretly glad of any distraction from the pain in his arm. When Tony didn't expand, McGee looked at him, "What movie, DiNozzo?" This through teeth gritted with pain. Leave it to Tony to not make a movie reference just as it was, impossibly, needed.

The door flew open, answering McGee's question. "Report, DiNozzo!" Gibbs barked from the doorway, crossing the room in four large strides. He touched Tony's arm first, though later he would deny that he was ascertaining the well-being of his favorite agent, then whacked the man on the back of the head.

"Concussion, Boss." This, surprisingly, from McGee, who looked white enough to pass out.

"Yeah, concussion, Boss." But, of course, in Tony's mouth the words came out incredibly cheeky, earning him another head slap, though even McGee could tell that this one had much less force than before.

"Oh, Timothy." Ducky knelt next to McGee, examining his arm, "How long has it been bleeding?"

"Four minutes." Said Tony, feigning nonchalance while looking on anxiously, "What, you didn't trust the EMTs?"

"With Jethro driving, I believe we were faster. And your descriptions of injuries leaves something to be desired, Anthony. Without knowing the severity of the wounds, and keeping in mind your distaste of hospitals, I thought my services were in order."

Gibbs was getting impatient, with two men wounded and no explanation. "Report, DiNozzo!"

"Right, Boss." Tony took a deep breath, trying to stop the room from spinning. It mostly worked, enough for him to straighten up and stare at Gibbs (he was guessing the middle one was right). "The house had no sign of any suspects when we got here. McGee proclaimed the computer unsalvageable --"

"I said there was a…self-destructing virus…probably put there by Petty Officer Murphey…" He wavered unsteadily, disoriented by blood loss and the throbbing agony of his arm until Ducky unstoppered a syringe of something that made the pain weaken to a dull ache.

"It was all very McGeeky." Tony summed up, flashing his Probie a swift concerned look while leaning against the wall, seemingly appearing relaxed but actually trying desperately to swallow back the waves of nausea he recognized as concussion markers. "Other than that, there was no mail, no personal effects of any kind. It seems like the cabin came furnished and he only started renting it recently."

"According to Ziva he's lived here for eighteen months." Gibbs contradicted, though he had to agree with Tony's conclusion. There was little in the way of mementos, with the obvious exception of the snake. Most of the surfaces that hadn't been turned over in the scuffle were clear from the clutter that usually amasses around daily life. "So why wasn't he spending much time at home? Where was he going?"

"I believe, Jethro, that's what your investigation is going to reveal." This from Ducky, his face pinched in concern over the second wounded shoulder he'd seen in a co-worker since coming to NCIS. And he'd thought it would be a safe job…

There was the screech of vehicles outside, as local law enforcement rolled in, minutes late as always. Gibbs sighed heavily but plastered on a look of easy confidence, wrapping his arm around Tony's shoulder in a manner that may or may not have been to help him stand up straight.

For the NCIS team, at that moment, there was nothing left to do but wait, because eventually all the evidence lead them to the scene of the crime. But the future NCIS team, looking back at that moment, would be hitting themselves, because, knowing the level of sheer…monstrosity…just around the corner, would have given the following advice:

Hurry up, run, because if you don't, kids are going to die, and you might just be able to save them this time around.

***

There's a cute little something between Tony and McGee. Like squabbling brothers. Anyway, most of this story is about them, because they're too cute to leave alone.

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