Fixing McGee's Problem

By Shellie Williams

Disclaimer: The characters and places of NCIS do not belong to me. No money or profit was made from this snippet.

VII

Gibbs sat waiting for McGee's eyes to open. The intubation tube had been removed, along with the drainage port from the surgery site, and most of the bulky padding. The doctor had assured them McGee would recover. The damage had been repaired. Now McGee lay still and sleeping, machines beeping and humming around him, reminding Gibbs that McGee still lived, despite the ghost-like quality of his skin.

The paramedic firmly pushed Tony aside. "Please move out of the way sir." He nodded absently at Tony's hushed explanation: "He's been shot" and replaced Gibbs' hands with his own. "Thank you, we'll take it from here."

Eyelashes flickered. McGee's head turned on his pillow, but he did not wake. Twenty-four hours following surgery, the intubation tube had been removed from his throat. The ICU nurses kept a close watch on McGee, checking his vitals, changing his dressings. Finally, he'd been moved out of Intensive Care, and into a private room.

Blood smeared slick and dark against the ground. The paramedics exchanged information, working seamlessly together as they applied pressure bandages and quickly started an IV. The gurney appeared from nowhere. With a quick, "1, 2, 3" count, they had McGee shifted to the stretcher and rolled to the ambulance. Doors shut with a solid snap, the siren began screaming, and they were gone.

McGee had woken several times following his surgery. He was confused, asking the same questions repeatedly, not remembering he'd already been given the answers. But he'd become more lucid as time passed.

Gibbs' glance drifted to the window. They were on the 5th floor, so there was nothing to see from his viewpoint but sky. If he stood and walked to look outside, he'd see distant buildings, people on sidewalks, cars traveling by. It was funny how life moved on without you sometimes. Time held still in this room; McGee slept; Gibbs waited.

They both rushed for the car. Gibbs stopped before he could open the door. "Tony!"

Tony's eyes, wide and afraid, stared back at him.

"The perp!"

A look of almost relief ghosted across Tony's face. What had he been expecting? Quickly, he raced back for the handcuffed man, shoved him into the back seat, and joined Gibbs in the front.

"Boss – I'm sorry."

He knew Tony was watching him, needing him to say something, but he kept his eyes on the road and his mouth shut.

"It shouldn't have happened this way."

Gibbs glanced in his rearview mirror. The shooter stayed silent; eyes thin slits, glaring at him. Gibbs took out his phone and made a quick call. The local LEOs would be waiting at the hospital to take this dirt bag off his hands.

"Boss – Gibbs, say something."

"We're here."

Surprised, Tony looked out the front to find they'd arrived at the hospital. When Gibbs parked, Tony grabbed the criminal from the backseat and followed Gibbs.

Gibbs pulled his gaze away from the window to find McGee watching him. He stood and moved to the bed.

"Boss?" McGee's voice was scratchy and raw. Gibbs retrieved the small cup of water beside the bed and offered the straw. McGee didn't even have to lean forward for a sip. He drank gratefully, then closed his eyes. "What happened?"

Gibbs put the cup back on the table, prepared to answer the same questions again. "What do you remember?"

McGee swallowed. He opened his eyes and rolled them up to study the machines around his bed. "I remember – I remember Tony had a gun." His knees shifted under the blanket. He gasped with the movement and pressed his hand against his belly. "Did someone -- who shot me?"

"Take it easy." Gibbs put his hand on McGee's shoulder and gripped it, stilling his movements. "The ID in his wallet said Marcus Freedman. Abby ran it. It was a fake. His real name is Brendon Neilson. He's wanted for kidnap and rape, suspected of assaulting four teenage girls in Oregon."

"But – but what was he – Tony set me up?"

Gibbs shook his head. "No, DiNozzo didn't set you up. He had a plan to – to help you --"

"To help me save your life, right?" McGee's head fell back against the pillow. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips together. Tiny beads of sweat broke out on his forehead. He lifted his hand and rubbed at the crease between his eyes. "Of all the stupid --"

"He was about to shoot me, McGee. If you hadn't walked up when you did, I'd be laying in this hospital bed instead of you."

McGee dropped his hand and opened his eyes. "I don't --"

"Tony's stupid plan worked; you took a bullet for me. Your debt is paid."

"Paid?" Repeating, as if not sure what he'd heard.

"Yeah." Gibbs leaned over the bed, releasing McGee's shoulder to brace his hand against the wall behind McGee's head. His voice grew soft, but intense. "I owe you my life."

McGee's face flushed. Gibbs withdrew; gave him space, gave him time to process.

"You don't owe me anything."

"You saved my life, McGee. I'd be dead if it weren't for you. I'd say that's worth something." He watched, almost seeing McGee's brain working through the process and figuring things out.

"But it's what you'd do – what you did for me. It's what Tony would do, or Ziva would do."

Gibbs nodded slowly. "It's not so easy to accept, is it?"

McGee finally looked at him. "What do you mean?"

"Someone's life debt. It's not easy carrying that around."

McGee's eyes cut down to study his blanket. "But you did."

Gibbs walked to the foot of the bed. McGee couldn't avoid looking at him. "Yeah, I did. You worked hard to repay it, too. I shouldn't have done that to you. I shouldn't have taken advantage."

McGee pressed his hand against his body, rolled his lips in against his teeth, and shifted on the bed. "That almost sounded like an apology."

Gibbs nodded. "Yeah, it did."

McGee lifted his eyes and stared right at Gibbs. He didn't blink or look away. "I accept."

The door opened and Tony peeked in. When he saw McGee's eyes were open, he shifted inside. "The Hero's awake, I see." He stopped, staying near the door. "Did Gibbs tell you? You arrested a wanted man."

McGee's wide eyes passed from Tony to Gibbs. "I arrested? But I was --"

"You did, Tim." Tony's head dropped and he studied the tops of his shoes. "At least, that's what my report says."

The room grew quiet, save for the soft beep and whirling of the machines. Tony cleared his throat, but said nothing.

"Wasn't there something you wanted to say, DiNozzo?"

Wide eyes lifted to lock on Gibbs. As if suddenly aware of the panic on his face, Tony made a visible effort to appear calm. He took a step closer. "It's my fault you were hurt, Tim. I really wanted to help you, and instead --"

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions."

Tony faltered and stopped. Slowly, he shook his head. "You're right, Tim. No matter how good my intentions were, they still landed you here." He lifted his eyes and focused on McGee. "I'm sorry."

Tim closed his eyes. "I know you are, Tony. You just --"

"Let me make it up to you." Tony moved closer to the bed and waited for McGee to look at him. "Consider me your personal servant. I can do things for you at the office, drive you home from work, pick you up and drive you to work, --"

"No."

"I could pick up your dry cleaning, wash your car, go to the --"

"Tony! You're not listening!" McGee shifted to his elbow with difficulty. Tony reached out to help but Tim slapped his hand away. "Why would I do something to you that you've just worked so hard to undo for me?" McGee's eyes rolled shut. He held his arm against his body and grimaced, then slowly lay back down. "Just – just leave it alone." He sighed heavily and turned his head away. "Leave me alone."

Tony glanced up at Gibbs. Gibbs' eyebrows lifted. He nodded once, then quietly walked to the door. After a moment, Tony silently followed.