Timothy McGee was in denial.

He stared atthe computer screen that resembled its owner; blank. It took a few seconds for the MIT graduate to realize that his computer was turned off and when he did, he automatically leaned over to turn it on.

Told you… …looked good.

"Argh!" Timothy straightened up at the sharp pain. "Damn migraine."

He massaged his temples as he waited for his computer to fully boot. There wasn't any time for his hurting, he had work to do.

The work of finding the man who killed his teammate.

wouldn't believe me… Thought…look like…living dead…

"Ow," Timothy winced. The monster migraine dug its claws into Timothy's head and refused to let go. "I.. need a Tylenol."

Although Timothy literally dug into his drawer, he found nothing. Cursing, he decided to check his teammates' desks. Surely either Tony or Kate would have something for a migraine. After all, they worked for Gibbs too.

However, when Timothy stood up, he felt his chest stricken at the sight of the two empty desks.

He couldn't remember.

"Oh God," Timothy gripped the edge of his desk so he didn't drop to the floor. "Oh God."

Timothy remembered the disbelief and horror of the sight of his coworker on the rooftop. He retched at the fact that the person he had come to care for like a family member was staring at the sky with lifeless eyes. The blood had made a dark puddle and Timothy couldn't stop looking until Gibbs stepped into his line of sight. Timothy could remember everything that happened, but who did it happen to?

"McGee? What's wrong?"

Timothy found himself crouched on the floor. He slowly looked up and met the gentle brown eyes. Kate was in the same white pants and black NCIS jacket she was wearing hours ago.

"Kate," Timothy whispered. As happy as he was to see her, he couldn't help the dread that was filling his stomach. One of his teammates was dead, and if Kate was here… "Tony.. Where's Tony?"

"McGee," Kate asked gravely. "Don't you remember?"

"No," He vigorously shook his head. "M-my head, it's killing me. I can't think straight. I can't-"

Don't lie to the dead…

The headache intensified. Timothy looked for a distraction, any distraction.

"Gibbs. Where's Gibbs?"

Timothy needed Gibbs to confirm. Tony couldn't possibly be dead. Because, McGee tried to reason with himself, the word 'dead' just didn't fit the Senior Field Agent. Not unless it was accompanied with the word 'Gibbs' as well. Actually in that case 'died a mysterious death' or 'disappeared from the face of earth' might fit better (after all, Gibbs was a Marine).

"Gibbs isn't here."

"And why the hell not?" Timothy asked frustrated. He could faintly remember Gibbs telling all of them that no one was to leave the building. The Monster Migraine dug its claws into Timothy's head further. The pain was getting worse-

"He doesn't need to be here."

-and worse-

"Kate-" Timothy whimpered, but whatever he was going to say was never finished as the pain engulfed him whole and Timothy started screaming.

His shoes clipped against the polished stone floor. Special Agent Timothy McGee listened to the echoes as he made his way to the Autopsy. He never enjoyed coming down here and usually spent a lot of energy finding one way or another to be sent down to Abby's lab instead.

Not this time though. McGee took a deep breath as the doors slid open to welcome him into the empty Autopsy. He'd see this one through.

After all, he owed his partner that much.

"Told you she looked good."

A strong hand gripped McGee's shoulder. Instead of flinching in surprise or fear at the unexpected company, McGee instantly submitted to the warmth and support it offered.

He wasn't alone in this.

"Probie wouldn't believe me Kate," Tony's hand lingered on Timothy's shoulder. "Thought you'd look like Return of the Living Dead."

"Did not." McGee sniffed at the gentle bantering.

"Don't lie to the dead McGee. Not nice."

Don't lie to yourself Probie. McGee heard the underlying statement the older man was trying to tell him. That there were times to toughen and suck the pain up, but there were also times to just let the hurting show.

McGee accepted the advice.

"I was a little afraid."

"Kid was terrified. But it took a lot of guts to come down here. Alone," Tony's voice was evident with pride. "Showed how much he cared for you.."

The dark circles under Tony's eyes were only one of the more obvious indications that he was in anguish. However the older man was pushing his grief aside so he could help 'his Probie' deal. And as selfish as it could seem, McGee decided-for once- to take advantage of the other agent's seniority and simply be the inexperienced green eared agent he was.

He grieved.

The screaming subsided and Timothy slowly opened his eyes. It took a few seconds to be able to focus and when he did, he found his partner crouching in front of him as an adult would to a crying child.

"Kate," Timothy suddenly looked years younger with his face etched with lines of fresh pain. "You're dead."

Kate smiled, the way Tony smiled when McGee figured out what Tony had been doing at his desk. It was the knowing, it-took-you-long-enough-Probie smile.

"I know."

And just like that, the headache was gone. McGee sagged against the shelf behind him as the rest of the memories that the migraine had been keeping from him, came flooding back.

There were the long nights McGee woke up from nightmares of Kate suffering in some unreachable place, and there were even longer days when any joke or object reminded them of their fallen friend. The pain and loss after Kate's death, the first death of a co-worker, lessened with time, but it was never forgotten.

"What's happening Kate?" Timothy asked softly. "What's going on?"

"I've been given a second chance."

"Will you come back?" Timothy's eyes betrayed the flicker of hope he felt.

"No," Kate shook her head. "Not in that sense."

Timothy wanted to reach over and give his partner a hug, but she looked unusually fragile that he couldn't dare. Instead he simply looked at her with the pleading a lost puppy would have as he told her in person, for the first and last time.

"I really did like you Kate… A lot."

Kate smiled, allowing the fierce affection shine in her eyes as she answered.

"I know."


"McGee! Get the hell outta bed, NOW!"

And Timothy did. Later, he would tell himself-and others-that he responded to the urgenc in Gibbs's voice, and to rule #3, never be unreachable. However, deep down inside, Timothy would always know that he snapped awake, 'got the hell outta bed', and lunged for the phone for a more basic and primitive reason; he was too young to die.

"Here Boss!" McGee rubbed his knee he skimmed in the process of the impressive five feet leap from the bed to the phone. "Uh, it's three o'clock in the morning Boss."

"McGee,"

Timothy winced at the bite in his team leader's voice. Gibbs was in 'that' mood, the mood that not only did he not give a damn that McGee had had a nostalgic dream that he no longer could remember, but would bite McGee's head off and spit out the bones should McGee dare mention it.

"I need you at MTAC ASAP," Gibbs continued. "Contact the Skipper of Seahawk."

Timothy paled.

"What do I tell him Boss?"

"That their Agent Afloat is in trouble. That he may be in need of immediate medical attention so to get their asses moving and fast. After that-"

"Contact Bethesda and make sure the doctors are on standby, on it Boss. Boss…" McGee was pulling on his pants but he paused as he asked. "What kind of injury?"

There was a split second pause before Gibbs answered.

"…Possible gun shot wound. McGee-"

"I'll give you an update every thirty minutes. On it-"

But as always, Gibbs had already hung up on him. The two had fallen into their old patterns so easily that Timothy felt an initial rush of joy to be back to 'normal'. It was like the numerous mornings they were all waken to solve a kidnap or some other case.

Only, Timothy thought gravely. It wasn't some other case. It was Tony who had somehow gotten himself hurt on a ship that was several thousand miles away from home.

"Hold on Tony," Timothy muttered as he gripped the wheels. "We're going."