I forgot to post a chapter last night. Sorry! I'll post this now, and another one tonight. Enjoy! And thanks for all the reviews, guys. :-)

Part 10

A couple of floor lamps had been turned on, casting a soft glow through the living room. Tony noticed the fireplace for the first time, and the many pictures lined up along its mantle. Smiling faces frozen in happy moments stared back at him. He didn't take the time to study them. He headed straight for McGee.

Tim lay still, breathing low and steady. Except for the flushed cheeks and creases that crossed his forehead when he frowned in pain, he appeared to be taking an afternoon nap. Worry rose again, unbidden in Tony's chest. He grit his teeth and clamped down on his emotions; now was not the time to show doubt. McGee needed to see confidence in his eyes. Taking a moment to compose himself, Tony bent over the couch and gently pulled the afghan open, exposing Tim's feet and lower legs. Tim's eyes slit open. Tony shifted to sit on the edge of the couch.

"Hey there, McDreamy. It's time to get you ready. I need to move you into the kitchen, so I'm going to slide some sweats on you so you won't scare the ladies."

McGee nodded to show he understood.

Doing his best to give McGee some privacy, Tony gathered the pants at Tim's feet, then slowly worked them up his legs. Instead of removing the covering, he just worked beneath it. When he got far enough, Tim seemed to sense he needed help. He anchored himself against the cushions and lifted his hips high enough for Tony to slide the pants the rest of the way. The effort obviously tired him out; he sank back to the couch, chest pumping with heavy breaths.

Tony allowed him to rest a minute, then flipped the afghan open. He'd already thought about how he was going to do this, picturing each step in his mind. Ironically, he considered that if something like this had happened to them earlier in their years together, he probably would not have been able to carry McGee. When McGee first joined NCIS he'd looked so much like a kid; pudgy and round, as if he hadn't lost his baby fat yet. In the last year or so, he'd focused on his health and his weight, while Tony had stuck to his old habits of eating fast food, staying up late, and skipping the gym when he felt he had more important things to do. As a result, Tim was smaller than Tony now.

"Okay, McGee, I'm going to carry you to the kitchen. I need you to sit up, buddy." He slid his arm beneath McGee, pressing his lips together to keep a sympathetic grunt from escaping when Tim's head lolled weakly back on his neck as he sat up. "That's it, you're doing just fine."

" - liar -"

The airy comment breathed out of McGee's mouth quiet as a whisper, but it brought a smile to Tony's lips. "Put your arms around my neck, Tim." When McGee moved to lift his arms, Tony helped, cupping his elbows and guiding his arms up and around his neck. Each time Tim released a breath, a low groan rumbled through his chest. Tony closed his eyes in sympathy. The uneven breaths hitching through McGee's lungs puffed warm against Tony's throat, affecting him just as deeply as if his friend were screaming with pain.

"Now, lock your arms, McGee. You've got to hold on tight." McGee pulled in close and locked his arms around Tony's neck, though the hold felt weak and unstable to Tony. He wrapped his arm tightly around McGee's back, then scooped his other arm beneath Tim's knees. "I'm going to stand up. Hold on."

In one swift move, he pushed up. A soft cry scratched raw and sharp from McGee. For a moment he clung tight to Tony, then his body weakened and trembling wracked his frame. Walking as evenly and quickly as he could, Tony moved to the kitchen. "A little help here." McGee's grip around his neck loosened. Mansfield joined him just as he reached the table. Tim fell limply away from Tony's chest, but Tony cradled his head and kept him from falling. Together, they managed to shift his body to the center of the table. One arm still embracing McGee, his other hand cupping his skull, Tony lowered him slowly, gently. He touched his face, then withdrew and gave Mansfield room to examine him.

Unexpectedly, Tony's knees wobbled. He grabbed the back of a chair, bracing himself, and quickly sat down. Propping his elbows on his knees, he dropped his head in his hands.

"You all right?"

Tony swallowed a few times and breathed deep before he could answer. "Yeah. Just winded is all. Is he okay?" When Mansfield didn't answer right away, Tony looked up. "Doctor?"

"He's unconscious, Agent DiNozzo."

"Tony." He tried to smile when Mansfield looked his way, but suspected he failed, miserably. "My friends call me Tony." Feeling as if his legs would support him, Tony stood and joined him by the table. If he thought Tim looked thin before, he looked decidedly boney lying on that big kitchen table under harsh light. His flesh rolled over the boney edges of his rib cage as he breathed and scoped down across his concave belly. Tony watched as Mansfield retrieved Vernon's old stethoscope and pressed the silver disk to McGee's lower abdomen. He held still, listening intently.

The front door slammed open, making Tony jump nearly out of his skin. Before he could recover and remember where he'd put the gun, Vernon walked in, his arms loaded with bags and bundles. "Well? You just going to stand there gawking at me, or can you give an old man a hand?"