A/N: And another Help Haiti ficlet. I have one more to post after this and then another to write...plus a full-length fic. The prompt for this was Tim, Tony and paintball. I have never actually played paintball myself, and I did research it. If I'm wrong about some details, I apologize to any paintball enthusiasts who might read this.

There are spoilers for Inside Man but nothing major. Mostly light with a bit of a serious turn at the end.

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS. I make no money. All the glory and the money go to other people. :)

Ready. Aim. Fire.
by Enthusiastic Fish

"Drop it, Tony," Tim grumbled. He still wasn't happy about being arrested and, while he was glad he had managed to surprise Tony with his targeting skills, he wasn't in the mood to gloat about it. Maybe after the weekend. If Sarah ever found out...

"You are on a paintball team, McGoo!" Tony said, laughing.

"Yes. I am. What of it?"

"You shoot paintballs at other people...and apparently, you hit them!"

Tim rolled his eyes. "That is the general idea, Tony." He grabbed his bag and started to leave, glad the week was over. He was really embarrassed about getting arrested...and his prison photo was nothing to scream about either.

Tony followed him.

"So...how about it, McGoop?"

"How about what?" Tim asked.

"You and me. Paintball. Mano y mano. What do you think?"

"Why?" Tim asked, knowing that if he said yes, no matter how it went, it would be all the worse for him. If he won, Tony would pout and try to find a way to make it mean even less than it actually did. If he lost, Tony would lord it over him for days. Competing with Tony, no matter the outcome, meant Tim was the loser.

"Because I want to see how you do when the chips are down."

Tim got on the elevator. "The chips are never down in paintball, Tony. It's a game. It doesn't mean anything."

"And yet you play on a team with championships," Tony said pointedly.

Tim sighed...the kind of sigh that meant capitulation...and he resigned himself to more than likely being miserable for a day. After his week, he supposed that was his lot. There was always Sunday at least.

"Excellent, McGee! I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning!"

"The paintball places don't open that early."

"Well, whenever they open then."

"Great. I can't wait," Tim muttered.

"That's the spirit!"

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Whoa, you have all your own gear?" Tony said in amazement.

"What did you expect, Tony? I'm on a team."

Tony seemed unwillingly impressed by Tim's turnout, his outfit, his gun. His ammo.

"This isn't that glue, bird poop stuff you had last time, is it?"

Tim finally smiled. "No. Just the regular pellets."

"Good. I wouldn't want you looking like you had a run-in with pigeons."

Tim held back a sigh. He liked playing on teams because they allowed him to work with his strengths. He was usually the sniper or marksman. When they were in natural settings, he was the one who sat back and took people out from a distance. He liked that, although he wasn't sure why. The running assaults and things like that were less fun for him. Bad memories, perhaps. Well, that was why he'd started paintball in the first place, to get over the bad memories.

"Yo, Probie."

Tim blinked. There was Tony, dressed in his rented paintball gear.

"You ready, McGeek?"

"Ready."

"So...most hits wins?"

"Right."

"Loser buys lunch?"

"Okay."

Tony grinned eagerly. Tim found himself wondering if he'd get out of this alive.

They separated and walked around the field to opposite sides. This particular field was set up almost like a maze with twists and turns, requiring fast reflexes. It was smaller since there were only two players, but it was still large enough to keep them going for a long time if they wanted to. The timer started and they ran into the maze.

"Yeehaw!"

Tim heard Tony yell and grinned to himself. He had given away his position. Quietly, Tim navigated his way, listening to Tony's occasional shouts...and the two times he wasted a paintball by firing it at a wall. Then, he caught a glimpse around one of the turns. He aimed...and fired.

Tony yelped.

"That's one for me!" Tim shouted and laughed before beating a hasty retreat.

"That's the only one you'll get McGee!" Tony shouted.

Tim could hear him behind.

Come on, I know there's a fork somewhere! Where is it?

Then, he felt the shot hit him right between his shoulderblades.

"One for me!" Tony shouted gleefully.

Tim laughed and finally found his fork. He took the left and then the left again and then right. ...and he shook Tony's pursuit. Pausing to rest, he caught his breath and listened. Tony was much quieter now...but Tim could hear him. He was pretty close. Then, Tim looked up. No. Not yet. He got up and began to run again, this time taking a strafing run as he headed toward where he'd heard Tony last.

Another shout after five misses, rewarded him.

Two to one. For now.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim groaned. He was covered in green paint. The only thing that made him feel better about that and all the welts he was sure he had, was that Tony was also covered in paint...only his color was blue. They were getting close to the end of the round. Thank goodness. Tim was ready to be done. Then, he remembered his first thought. He was a sniper after all. It was pretty low though. Still, he had no idea how many shots he'd got on Tony nor vice versa. There were too many to count. They'd taken one or two breaks to clean off the masks. No deliberate face shots but they'd both had a few inadvertent ones.

What the heck. He ran through the maze to the ladder leading up to the top of the wall. He set up shop and watched for Tony. There he was. Tim aimed carefully, taking his time. This was his place.

"Hey, Tony!" he shouted.

Tony looked around and then up, almost disbelievingly.

Tim fired, right in the heart.

"Hey!" Tony called.

The bell rang, signaling the end of the round.

Tim laughed and then got down off the wall. He'd tell Tony that shot didn't really count, of course. He just wanted to show that he could still do it, that his shot at the camera a few days before hadn't been a fluke.

He went out the nearest exit and then circled around to the counter where Tony would turn in his gear.

"Hey, McGee, that was cheating!" Tony said loudly as he walked around. "You can't just climb over the walls!"

"I only did it once and you don't have to count it."

"Then, why do it?"

Tim shrugged. "Because I could. Go ahead and count if you want. I have no idea how many times I hit you...but I think you might have hit me every time."

"I think you should be the automatic loser since you broke the rules."

Yes. An out! Thank you! Tim thought to himself. "Okay. You win. I'm going to go change."

Tony dropped all his stuff on the counter.

"Hey! Wait a second!"

Tim stopped. "What?"

"Don't you care who wins?"

"Not this time. I'll buy lunch." Tim smiled and headed to the locker room.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

They both had numerous welts which were sure to draw attention; so Tim left his jacket on when they went to the restaurant and Tony did the same.

"Why did you shoot me from the top of the wall, McGee?" Tony asked.

"To show you that I could do it."

"I'd already seen you do it once. Remember?"

"I know. I figured that if I didn't do it again, you'd pass it off as luck...and it wasn't."

"I knew it wasn't. I could tell."

Tim looked at his sandwich. "You know who won, don't you," he said with a slight smile.

"What?"

"You know. I lost count, but I'll bet you didn't."

Tony looked innocent. "I don't know what you're talking about, McGoo."

"Right. You totally know."

"Maybe I do. Maybe I don't."

Tim just laughed.

"Hey, McGee."

"Yeah?"

"How long have you been doing this stuff? I mean, you're not a beginner."

"I never said I was," Tim said, in surprise. "Did you think I was?"

"I didn't even know you played paintball at all, McGee."

"True. It's been about...four years, now."

"Anything significant about that?" Tony asked, suddenly serious.

"Yeah."

"What?"

"Doesn't matter now. I do it because I like it. It's fun...most of the time." Tim massaged at his oft-hit shoulder. "More when there are other people to take hits some of the time."

"What got you started?" Tony asked, not distracted.

Tim knew he wouldn't be, but it was worth a shot. "Shooting Benedict...and not being able to shoot Archer."

Tony was quiet.

"I started coming to paintball places so I could stop being afraid of shooting my gun. Gibbs told me I couldn't secondguess myself again. I didn't want to. I almost got him killed. So I came here a few times and then a guy told me about a team who needed a sub. I asked about it, got on the team. They found out that I actually knew how to shoot. I became a regular player. I'm usually the sniper though. Up high, not running around in the trenches." Tim looked at the menu. "Do you want to get dessert?"

"Nah."

Tim nodded and tossed some cash on the table. They got up and left.

"I didn't know that, McGee."

"It's not an issue anymore, Tony. You asked what got me started."

"I know."

They walked to their respective cars and then Tim grinned.

"So...who won, Tony?"

Tony hesitated and then grinned back.

"It was a tie, McGee."

FINIS!