AN - And so it goes on .. still not quite the end!

Thump. Thump. Thump.

In the pre-dawn light McGee frowned as he rolled over in bed on Sunday morning and reluctantly returned to consciousness. Raising his head slightly he peered at his alarm clock. 0630. Dropping his head back down onto the pillow he tried to figure out why his head was pounding. Sure, he had taken full advantage of the fact that the team had a free weekend and hadn't got to bed until 2am – having got caught up in a new RPG. But he couldn't remember drinking anything, no matter enough to give him a hangover.

Thump, Thumpity, Thump.

"C'mon McGee, open up."

McGee groaned out loud as he realised that the sound wasn't reverberating through his head but his whole apartment, as DiNozzo pounded on the door and hollered loud enough to wake the dead. McGee was sorely tempted to put his head under the pillow to muffle the sound and go back to sleep. But even off rotation there was always the chance it was case-related and more importantly the noise was going to wake his neighbours. Tim knew better than to think Tony would give up any time soon. Besides, if he didn't let him, he wouldn't put it past DiNozzo to simply break the door down.

"I know you're awake, McGee," Thump, Thump, Thump. "You have three seconds to let me in or I'm using my lock picks."

Resigning himself to the inevitable, McGee dragged himself out of bed and made his way to the door before he found himself on the end of a complaint from Mrs Foster on the resident's committee. He opened up to see a grinning DiNozzo standing in the hallway, dressed in sweat pants and an NIS sweatshirt , looking for all the world like it wasn't still almost the middle of the night, holding a take-out bag and chewing happily on a breakfast burrito. Taking advantage of the fact that Tony's mouth was full McGee did not give him a chance to speak.

"You don't have any lock picks and even if you did you don't know how to use them."

"I borrowed Ziva's," Tony pushed past him, as he shoved the bag at his chest, causing a still half asleep McGee to fumble slightly as he caught it. "And I've been taking lessons."

"In long distance running? Because that's what you'll be doing if Ziva finds out you've been going through her stuff again," As he closed the door McGee peered into the bag, almost gagged at the rich greasy smell this early in the morning and set it aside. "And I know I'm going to regret asking this but what are you doing here?"

"Eat up," Tony nodded at the bag. "You're going to need your strength."

"We catch a case?"

McGee didn't think so. Tony wasn't displaying any particular signs of urgency. But there was no mistaking the pointed look he gave the take-out bag when Tim didn't follow his instruction. Risking a second look into the bag, McGee decided he still couldn't face it, but moved towards the kitchen to find a more acceptable breakfast alternative. He had no idea how DiNozzo had found a take-out place open this early on a Sunday, but then he was like a walking Encyclopaedia of fast food outlets and was probably on first name terms with all of the ones in his neighbourhood.

"S' not a case," Tony mumbled around another bite of burrito. "But it is work related."

McGee waited, as he looked out bowl, milk and high fibre cereal, but nothing more was forthcoming. Wandering back into the living space he took a spoonful of cereal, but Tony still didn't add anything more. Looking at the other man, he chewed his mouthful of cereal as slowly as he could, but still Tony didn't crack. Two more leisurely spoonfuls and Tim had gone from being annoyed at being rousted out of bed and a growing feeling of concern at his team mate's unusual behaviour. Having finished his own breakfast Tony was just standing there, watching him with a strange expression on his face. He wasn't even trying to bug him or go through his stuff or anything.

"Um," McGee felt a little awkward. "Are you okay? I mean, nothing bad has happened has it?"

"What?" Tony blinked, clearly not expecting that. "No, no-one has been drugged, kidnapped, blown up or shot. Well apart from Gibbs and you already knew about that. And I haven't been accused of murder for weeks now."

"I thought maybe..," McGee shrugged.

There were so many minefields, Jeanne, Jenny, his father. It was never easy to judge what seemingly innocent event might trip some personal or work related funk. Usually Gibbs, Abby or Ducky were the best people to bring him out of it. But Ziva and McGee had both taken turns. Pressing his lips together McGee decided he was totally at a loss to understand what Tony was doing there. Especially, at that hour of the morning, it wasn't like they had that many free weekends.

"But thanks."

The soft spoken words cut into his thoughts and he looked up to see Tony regarding him with an unusually sincere expression that he had cared enough to ask. McGee simply nodded, but he felt warmed by the other man's gratitude. Sometimes, he lost sight of how much Tony needed his friendship. He knew Tony had no longer had any contact with his father, but it was hard for him with such a close and loving family to fully appreciate what that must be like.

"Thought you were baby sitting the Boss this weekend," He tried for a lighter tone. "Does he know that you've gone AWOL?"

Tony chose not to answer that. McGee didn't need the added pressure of knowing that this had been Gibbs' idea. He had wanted to put things off until Monday when Gibbs was feeling a little stronger and there would be people around the office to keep an eye on him. It was only when the ex-marine had reminded Tony that Vance had only given him a 24 hour window and actually gone so far as to arrange for the woman Ducky usually used to watch over his Mother to come round for a few hours this morning that the younger man had realised how strongly Gibbs felt about addressing this.

"You ready?" He nodded at the now empty bowl.

"Depends," Tim met his look with one of his own. "Are you ready to tell me what for?"

"Dress, like me," Tony responded and there was no mistaking the order in his tone. "You're getting a job interview."

"I am?" McGee's heart leapt. "You're considering Vance's offer."

"Maybe." Tony allowed.

Despite the rather guarded response, McGee couldn't help smiling a little as he moved towards the bedroom to gather some clothes, when a thought struck him, sticking his head back around the door with a small frown he met DiNozzo's gaze. "If this is a job interview, wouldn't the Director expect me to wear something a little more formal than sweats?"

"Not for what we're going to be doing," Tony smiled, but this time there was no mirth in it. "If I'm going to move clear across the country I need to know that someone back here is reigning Gibbs in, stopping him from going off half-cocked, or at the very least able to watch his six, even when he goes off grid."

"It's not like you've always been able to control him." McGee protested.

"I've never let him get killed either, Probie," Tony deliberately taunted. God knows, Gibbs had done it enough to him over the years, pushing his buttons, challenging his capabilities, unashamedly pushing him to be the best he could. And it had saved both their lives more than once. He wasn't about to do anything less for McGee. "Now get a move on, we're burning daylight."

To Tim's dismay their first stop was the NCIS gym. Donning the gloves and the head gear McGee was at least grateful that at this time on a Sunday the place was deserted. Tony was many things but his partner wasn't about to make his (almost) inevitable humiliation public. The Italian might act like a klutz but he had been sparring with Gibbs for years and lived to tell the tale. Tim had even heard their Boss offer gruff praise at his abilities before knocking his senior field Agent on his ass. To his surprise, when they got into the ring Tony was calm and patient, applauding his efforts and offering encouragement and advice to improve. Tim had begun to feel confident almost a little cocky, when DiNozzo suddenly took his legs out from under him and laid him out on the canvas.

"Not bad, McGee," Tony offered a hand up. "Not bad."

"Ow." McGee managed.

Their next stop was the firing range. Knowing that his scores were always consistently good, McGee shot coolly, confident that knowledge and understanding of the science of trajectory would not disappoint the ballistics expert. DiNozzo stood and watched impassively as he returned two almost perfect scores, but even as the senior field Agent inspected the targets and offered a nod of approval for the tight grouping, McGee instinctively knew that the test was far from over. Still, he wasn't prepared for DiNozzo to reach over into his jacket and pluck out his beloved Blackberry.

"No, please." He almost begged.

Tony paid him no heed as he strode towards the target, and producing a length of tape out of no-where, proceeded to secure it to black and white rings. McGee swallowed hard, his whole life was on that device, addresses, contacts, everything, and as much as he knew he ought to back up regularly he knew that he hadn't done it nearly often enough. Plus it was the newest model, with higher specs than NCIS would spring for and he had had it less than a week.

"Make like Kevin Costner." Tony ordered.

Afterwards, the fact that he had recognised the movie reference from "Prince of Thieves" would be no comfort at all. Granted, Robin Hood had allowed himself to be distracted when Maid Marion had blown in his ear, but when it really counted, when his half-brother Will Scarlet's life had been in danger he had ignored, fire, attack and all types of danger to accurately make the shot. When he put a bullet through his Blackberry McGee only had to worry about buying and backing up a new model In the future, when it really counted, he could not help but worry he might need to bury a friend.

"Ready for part three?" Tony asked.

McGee had always loved pop quizzes. All through school he had been a diligent student, one who had kept up with new material and this never been caught short when the teacher announced there would be a test. It was a little disconcerting to realise how much paperwork Gibbs expected his senior field Agent to manage. McGee had not even known that half of those government forms existed, much less what he was now supposed to do with them.

"I never did these requisitions when I was your senior field Agent," He protested sensing unfairness.

"I know." Tony gave him a level look.

In spite of himself, McGee felt the blush rise in his cheeks. It had never occurred to him that Tony had deliberately weighted his responsibilities, keeping some of the tasks that he had been accustomed to do as senior field Agent, so as not to overwhelm the younger man. And worse, he had never even tried to rub his face in it. He had never even mentioned it. McGee suddenly felt bad for thinking that Tony might have been trying to stack the odds in favour of his failure.

"Alright," Tony surged to his feet. "Are you ready for the piece de resistance?"

McGee held his peace as Tony led the way out of the NCIS building and down to the parking garage. He sat silently as they made their way through familiar streets, resisting the temptation to ask Tony where they might be going. Maybe, trying to work it out was part of the test. He frowned as they took an exit and moved into a residential neighbourhood, he hadn't been out here all that often but he knew enough about the local landmarks and passing street names to draw the most obvious conclusion.

"You're taking me to Gibbs house." He realised.

"Very good," Tony didn't take his eyes off the road. "We'll make an investigator of you yet, Probie."

McGee bristled slightly at the slightly mocking tone, as if the other man had expected him to work it out rather sooner. It wasn't as if he was a mind reader and besides, even now he couldn't imagine why they were going to Gibbs' or what they might do when they got there. Tony had made it quite clear that his 'interview' wasn't over yet and McGee had the awful suspicion that the worst was yet to come.

"Are you ready?" Tony asked him, as he pulled up behind Gibbs' car in the driveway.

"Bring it on." McGee decided he could at least sound confident.

He watched as Tony led the way inside and exchanged a few words to the women seated in the kitchen, before fetching her coat and helping her into it. Then to McGee's surprise and horror, he picked up his car keys and moved towards the front door.

"I'm taking Helen home. Gibbs is upstairs, fix him some lunch, keep him out of trouble, I have a few errands to run. I'll be back as soon as I can."

"Wait!" McGee didn't much care that his voice had come out as a slightly undignified squeak. Much as he liked and respected Gibbs the man could be hard to deal with when he was fit and well. The thought of having to cope with a grumpy, injured, version filled him with dread. "You're leaving me to look after Gibbs?"

"Uh huh," Tony met his eyes and McGee realised that this was the real test. "Watch his six, McGee."