A/N: I first would like to thank everyone for their reviews. :)

Next chapter should be up no later than this Sunday (depending on school work). :) Hope you enjoy this chapter.

Chapter Six

"Gear up."

"McGEE!"

"Yes Boss?" Tim lifted his forehead off his desk, jumping when Gibbs yelled his name. Tim hurried to wipe any drool that would be on his face before glancing around.

"I said gear up," Gibbs said again, his tone showing that he was particularly mad with Tim but also not very pleased with his Senior Field Agent's siesta.

"Sorry Boss," Tim stood, trying to shake off any last vestiges of sleep from his brain, "I'll get the car."

"Ziva's got it," Gibbs said, walking towards the elevator.

"Then I'll ge-"

"Wilson's getting Ducky," Gibbs cut off McGee mid-syllable.

"Um okay then I'll just," Tim looked around, trying to find something to grab, trying to find something to actually help.

"Get in the elevator with me," Gibbs finished Tim's sentence, "Hurry up McGee."

"Yes Boss," McGee stepped into the elevator, keeping his head down and his gaze away from Gibbs' searching stare.

Please don't say anything, don't say anything, McGee kept up his silent chant, hoping Gibbs wouldn't say anything about his earlier snooze.

But feeling the jar of the elevator stop, Tim let out a small sigh. It just wasn't meant to be.

"Something wrong Boss?" Tim spoke first, hoping his denial would be enough.

"Yeah McGee, I'd say something's wrong," Gibbs responded, sarcasm heavily laden in his voice.

Instead of responding, McGee just bit his lip.

Raising an eyebrow at his Senior Field Agent's lack of response, Gibbs plowed ahead with the conversation.

"When I said I'd help you McGee, I meant it," Gibbs tapped Tim's chin lightly, making the agent meet his gaze, "But what you're doing McGee, staying up late in Abby's lab looking," Gibbs paused, searching for the right words to convey his emotions, "We're responding to a call McGee. We don't know anything yet. Things could go sour real quick and if you aren't up to par," Gibbs trailed off, knowing the Agent would understand.

McGee shook his head, "Boss I-"

But Gibbs just flipped the switch, turning the elevator back on.

Knowing that the conversation was officially over, McGee just looked back down at his shoes and shifted his backpack.

Everything hurt.

From his toes to the top of his head, everything felt like it no longer wanted to be connected to his body.

McGee shifted and wondered who was yelling. Whoever it was, someone should help them. They sounded hurt. McGee thought he should but something was wrong.

Tim tried to shift again but stopped when he heard that awful noise. He wanted to help but there was a fire in his gut that wasn't going away. It burned and reminded Tim off the time he had watched a man on TV consumed in flames, running down the street as everyone watch.

But Tim's survival instincts kicked in and Tim knew that the only way to put out a fire on oneself was "stop, drop and roll" and some part of Tim's brain screamed at him to roll over at put the freaking fire out now!

But another voice was there and McGee wondered if he should listen to it, should stop moving and open his eyes. Maybe it was the voice that had been hurting. Maybe someone had finally helped them.

The other voice was louder now and McGee gasped when the fire in his abdomen got worse. The voice called again but Tim ignored it.

The darkness was calling him and McGee decided that it hurt a lot less there.

So he followed it to oblivion.

Tim opened his eyes and looked around. Looking at his surroundings, McGee couldn't discern where he was exactly.

He was in a room. A blue room.

The room had a bed, which he was laying on, a nightstand and a large TV. Below the TV were tons of DVDs.

"Start spreading the news….I'm leaving today…."

"What the…" Tim stood, rather shakily, opening the door. Someone was singing. And if McGee didn't know any better…

Glancing down the hall, Tim look at the walls, hoping a picture or painting would be hanging from the walls. McGee still had no idea where idea he was but for some reason, he wasn't too worried about it. The place had a sense of safety around it and Tim knew that if he just stared long enough he should be able to….

"These little town blues….Are melting away…"

The hall ended, leading into a small living room. McGee continued walking, and even though McGee couldn't remember where he was, he felt as if he had stood in this exact spot many times before.

"If I can make it there….I'll make it anywhere…It's up to you…"

"Tony?" McGee breathed, walking into to a warm kitchen.

Tony, who had in fact been singing, paused and turned, smiling at him, "Nice of you to finally crawl out of bed McSleep-My-Life-Away."

"Tony, you…" Tim gaped at the man who was currently making something on the stove. Tony mixed something in the pot before donning a pair of gloves and sliding over to the oven, opening it to reveal a pan of garlic bread.

"What?" Tony turned, looking innocently at McGee, "What's up Probie?"

"You - you…" Tim shook his head, "You shouldn't be able to do - do that," McGee gestured towards the oven and stove, "You're in my head, you can't-"

"Ah, but that is where you are wrong Grasshopper," Tony laughed, turning off the stove before facing McGee, "I'm not in your head."

"What do you mean?" Tim asked.

Tony grimaced, "What's the last thing you remember Probie?"

McGee raised an eyebrow, at Tony's question but rubbed his face, racking his brain for anything…

"Me and Gibbs were in the elevator," McGee said, biting his lip, "He was worried because I've been really dragging my feet the last few days, haven't gotten much sleep…"

"Yeah," Tony said, gesturing for Tim to continue.

"And he told me I had to be careful," McGee said, "In not so many words."

Tony gave a small smile, though Tim could see it didn't reach his eyes.

Tim bit his lip again, a knot starting to form in his stomach, "Uh…um, then we went to a crime scene. I was collecting evidence, Wilson was sketching and Ziva was taking pictures. Gibbs was talking to Ducky but he had stepped out to go grab something from the truck. Um, I heard something in the back room and I went to go look…"

Tim trailed off. He had heard something fall, he remembered that much. He had walked through a dining room and an office before opening a door to…

"What happened next McGee?" Tony said, breaking Tim out of his thoughts, "What happened when you opened the door?"

"I don't…" Tim shook his head, sitting down on the nearest chair. Running his hands through his short hair, Tim continued to shake his head in frustration, "I don't know."

"Yeah you do Probie," Tony said, suddenly inches away from his face. He was kneeling down, eye level even with McGee's, "What happened when you opened the door?"

Tim opened his mouth to respond that he couldn't remember, when the memory slammed into him.

A man had been hiding in the closet and when Tim had opened the door-

"Oh my god," Tim whispered, remembering how it had felt trying to reach for his gun only to mumble and moments later feel a bullet collide with his abdomen, "Tony I-"

"McGee."

"No Tony," McGee stood suddenly, glancing around the kitchen, "I need-I need-"

"Probie-"

"Tony, am I dead?"