Title: Memento Mori

Summary: Can Tony keep himself and Gibbs from dying?

Disclaimer: NCIS is not mine. I'm just borrowing the concepts and characters for a little while.

Spoilers: Nothing specific.

A/N: Y'all are probably going to hate me at the end of this chapter…

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Chapter Three: All Hell Breaks Loose

For a split second, I think I'm going insane when I hear Gibbs' father's voice, but apparently the bad guys have heard it too. Suddenly all hell breaks loose and my side of the warehouse is bombarded by bullets.

Freaking out at the idea of Jack being killed, I recklessly return fire. A pained grunt reaches my ears and I know I've hit another of our attackers. The gunfire ceases and I wonder if I've gotten them all.

From behind me, I hear footsteps and gun still pointing towards the enemies' side, I call out, "Jack?"

In answer Jack shakily says, "Yeah. It's me."

I turn to make sure he's alright but out of the corner of my eye I see the man Gibbs and I had been hoping to catch take aim at Jack.

I stand and yell, "Get down!" just as each of us fires at the other.

Fortunately my bullets hit their intended target and our suspect drops dead to the ground.

Unfortunately though, one of his bullets manages to catch me high in the chest. I stumble back in shock before dropping to my knees.

Jack catches me and prevents me from falling the rest of the way to the ground. Opening my eyes, I can see Jack's been wounded too. It's only a graze to his arm, but the moment he stepped into this damned warehouse, I was responsible for his safety and I failed to completely protect him.

Gibbs is going to kill me for getting his father shot, I think to myself as Jack gently lowers me the rest of the way to the ground. Lying there, pain floods my senses and it feels like my life is draining away onto the concrete below me. That's when the realization hits me that my wound is most likely fatal.

I guess Gibbs won't be killing me after all; our suspect's bullet has done it for him.

If only Gibbs' impatience hadn't prevented us from putting on our vests. Gibbs is going to blame himself for me getting hurt and dying when it's my fault too. I should have insisted on the back-up, on vests, but none of that matters anymore.

I have to hang on as long as possible; there are things I need to tell Jack to pass on to Gibbs. I groan in pain as Jackson futilely applies pressure to my rapidly bleeding wound.

"J—Jack. Jack," I groan out. "Ssstop. You need to get ou—out outside. Call 9-…1-1."

"I already did Son."

I'm having trouble catching my breath, but I manage to keep talking.

"Guh—good. Gibbs t-t-took bull-bullet to head-d. Unconsc—Out luh-long time na-now."

"Save your energy kid. Leroy will be pissed if you die on him."

The weight on my chest is lifting, I feel lighter, almost…free.

Somehow, after a couple of tries, I succeed in taking another breath.

"Can'-t-t-t ssstop that na-now. T-t-tell tell him … tell hi-him nuh-not assskk buh-better men-ment-t-tor, frie—nd, fath— "

I don't manage to get out the most important word before my world goes black.

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A/N: Next chapter on Tuesday.

Thanks for reading!