Author's Note: Hi everyone! Thank you for all of the reviews of the first chapter - I'm glad you like it so far! I do want to clarify one thing, the title will refer to the 5 times Tony got up *right away* - as in, under his own power, right after he goes down. The one time he didn't will be the one time the injury is very serious, but yes, Tony will definitely survive :)

This chapter takes place 5 months into McGee's first year at NCIS. He will grow throughout the series to become less probie-like, but please do take into account that the nerves and second guessing happen because of his inexperience, and that he will become more confident later on. I initially had McGee even more involved in the take down when I remembered that his first "kill" doesn't come until the episode Probie in season 3, so I had to do a bit of a re-write to stay canon.

This is not beta read, all mistakes are mine. Sorry if there are small procedural errors, I'm not up on police procedure, but I tried to make it believable :) Hope you enjoy!


Chapter 1

The sound of gunfire was overwhelming. Probationary Agent Timothy McGee clutched his firearm, crouching behind a large stack of old crates that were holding up surprisingly well under fire. His mind – acting like a computer – raced through the protocol for this type of situation. In theory he knew exactly what to do, but it was entirely different in the field, when a slight misstep could mean a bullet through the brain.

It was his fifth month on the job. He'd been an agent for almost half a year. Longer than his father predicted…

"An Agent, son? All the math and computers in the world won't help you on the front lines, boy. In a month you'll be back at a desk job, isolating yourself again with all your formulas and algorithms. Why waste the Navy's time?"

McGee shook himself out of the memory. He was on the front lines now, and while he tried not to give his father's opinions too much credence, the Admiral was right about one thing: his computers couldn't help him now.

There was a momentary lapse in the gunfire, probably so that the perps could reload. Tim took the respite as an opportunity to take stock. First, his phone – still no service. Perfect. But, on the bright side, as far as he could tell, there were no unwanted holes in his body and all of his limbs were still intact, albeit trembling slightly

A quick, dark motion to the right of him made the young agent jump, carefully aiming his SIG at the possible threat.

"Tony!" He gasped, lowering his weapon upon recognizing his teammate, momentarily overcome by the shock of his quick entrance.

"Probie! It's your first firefight!" Tony whispered as he skidded into Tim's hiding place, landing on one knee, while reloading his own magazine.

As McGee watched his partner's eyes dart around, assessing their situation, he was surprised at the enormous feeling of relief that swept through him. Tony may be his tormentor, but he was also Gibbs' right hand man, and if even half the stories he had heard were true, a master at getting out of sticky situations intact.

He still had yet to see the Tony who was the subject of all those stories – the ex-homicide detective that busted cases wide open and met danger head-on, like some character out of an action movie. He was much more used to the guy who quoted those characters, often much to his annoyance.

However, despite all of Tony's antics in the squadroom, Tim knew he was an extremely capable agent – and exactly the kind of guy he wanted with him on his first firefight.

"Is that some sort of NCIS milestone?" he managed to reply, as the bullets began to rain down again.

"Not officially," Tony responded as he swiveled his body around to face him. "It's not something we like to do a lot here at NCIS."

"That's a relief," McGee quipped, wondering why he was suddenly able to act so cool in a situation like this.

Tony was about to respond when his eyes darkened, narrowing in on something behind him. A shot rang out, and a bullet whipped past McGee's head. In a flash, the Tony was up and firing, dropping one of the suspects with an efficient double tap to the chest.

"Whew, they're closing in, Probie. I'm not letting your first firefight end like mine did," Tony said flippantly, as if he hadn't just saved McGee's life.

McGee just stared. How exactly had Tony's first firefight ended?

This was certainly a different Tony from the one he was used to. Tony was the guy who hardly looked like he did any work, and yet still somehow came up with the answers Gibbs needed. He was the guy who compared cases to movies to come up with motives or means. He was the guy who threw a rock through a window to get into a suspect's house.

It wasn't that Tim thought he wasn't a good investigator – in fact, it was clear that it was these very unconventional methods that made him so effective – it was that, in all of the hours Tim had spent with Tony, he'd never seen him acting serious…about anything. But here, when the bullets were flying and lives were on the line, it was clear that Tony was all business.

Not on the outside. No, he had the same grin, the same easy-going demeanor, but there was a dangerous focus to him too, something in his eyes and in his tone that told McGee he was determined to get them out alive.

Tim wondered if the outward display was just to keep him at ease. In fact, he wondered exactly how much of Tony's external clownish behavior was just a disguise…

"Tim, you okay?" Tony's words broke through his thoughts. "You weren't hit, were you?"

"No, I'm fine," McGee quickly shook himself out of it, a little alarmed that Tony had used his first name. "Just trying to figure out how we're getting out of here."

Tony nodded. "Well, now that Baldy's out of the picture, it's two on two, odds are tipping in our favor; so, maybe they're ready to surrender now." He started to straighten, but McGee grabbed him.

"Tony! There were five of them when we first came in here! It's more like four to two, and they have automatic weapons!" McGee hissed, a little panicked as the odds and numbers started coming back to him. Maybe his father was partially right…

"Chillax, McGee. What do you think I was doing over there while our newest acquaintances were trying to blow your head off? These guys aren't exactly pros, you know. I mean, sure, they've got the firepower, but they took up a pretty poor defensive position. I was able to pick off two of them while they all concentrated on you. That's some nice work, McDistraction," he patted McGee on the back, smiling.

McGee gaped. He'd figured they'd both been pinned down. They'd had to separate quickly when they'd entered the supposedly empty warehouse, diving out of the way of the automatic rounds of the trigger-happy suspects. He'd only known that Tony was fine from the agent's unsuccessful attempts to talk the shooters out of a messy gunfight. Apparently, their perps didn't know what NCIS was, and they were far more inclined to shoot than to surrender peacefully, especially when they had the numbers on their side.

So, McGee had been holding his position hoping that maybe Tony had found a way to contact Gibbs and send in the cavalry. It had never occurred to him that they might actually overpower the suspects just the two of them. Come to think of it, the gunfire had let up somewhat, maybe they would gain the upper hand…

"Hey! Guys!" Tony called loudly in the direction of the shooters. "Can we stop with the gunfire already? We're federal agents, I'm telling ya, you don't want to mess with us – ask your three buddies, it's best for everyone if you just surrender now!"

A bullet whipped past Tony's head.

"This is NCIS, you aren't getting out of this! Surrender your weapons!" McGee yelled, suddenly confident they could do this.

Another bullet, this time barely missing McGee.

"Well, Probie, I guess it's up to you and me," Tony said, turning towards him.

McGee couldn't help but grin. This was what he'd envisioned himself doing, and this is what he'd joined NCIS for. He was part of a team, and he and his partner were going to bring these guys down – together.

"I've got your six, Tony," he said, giving his partner a determined nod.

Tony grinned. "I know you do. Now, I've got a plan – it involves running, so please tell me you didn't have those cheese fries for lunch like last week."

Tim couldn't help but roll his eyes. Back to old Tony, just like that. But for some reason, this time, he didn't mind it. "No, I had a salad, Tony. Now what's the plan?"

Tony made a face, presumably at the thought of "eating like a rabbit", but then his expression turned serious.

"Ok, we don't have enough ammo to keep up like this. According to the blueprints, there's a side door, about 25 yards to your left. When I say go, I'll provide cover fire and you run like hell. Once you're out, get in the car, and find some civilization, or at least somewhere where you have service, and call Gibbs."

"That's your plan?" McGee said incredulously. "What about you?"

"I'll be fine. These crates have held up this long, they'll hold up a little longer."

"And if they decide to advance their position?"

"They already tried. You saw how well that worked for them."

"And what if they come from both sides, Tony?" McGee challenged. He may be the probie on the team, but he wasn't going to just sit there and let Tony sacrifice himself for him.

"You have a better idea?"

"Yeah, yeah, I do," McGee swallowed. "You go. I stay here."

"Not gonna happen, McGee. Like it or not, I'm a better shot than you, and I have more experience with this stuff. I'm pulling rank. You're my responsibility and I'm not going back to Gibbs and telling him we have to train a new probie."

"So I'm supposed to tell Gibbs that I left a man behind? Tony, if these guys don't kill me, then he will!"

"No, Special Agent McGee. You are to tell Gibbs that you were following orders from a superior officer to call in backup to help take down a drug ring. Now, can I count on you, Special Agent McGee?"

Tim glared at Tony. Playing hero while he was ordered to flee the scene? What was Tony playing at?

But then it hit him. Tony wasn't playing at anything. There was steel in his eyes, he was wound tight. This wasn't Tony trying to one-up him in the squadroom, this was Tony protecting his team. This time it wasn't about garnering that elusive praise from their boss; no, it was a matter of life and death, and Tim knew that he had to trust that Tony, his senior field agent, was making the right call.

"Yes, Tony, you can count on me," McGee said, giving his partner a small nod.

"Good, Tim. I knew I could," Tony said, and McGee was almost taken aback at the amount of respect he saw shining in Tony's eyes.

"Oh, and McGee, none of that McGrandma driving. Channel your inner Leroy Jethro Gibbs," Tony quipped.

Tim rolled his eyes. "Got, it, DiNozzo," he grumbled, but he couldn't help but smile.

"Ok, ready?" Tony asked, and McGee nodded as Tony slipped his backup from his ankle, keeping it at the ready, and then carefully aimed his SIG. Tim made eye contact with his partner. He was ready. "One, two, three!" Tony whispered, and McGee ran.

It was all a blur; he didn't even hear the bullets he knew were flying all around him. His teammate had given him a mission and he was going to complete it.

Heart pounding, pulse racing, he saw the door. Within seconds, he grasped the handle, pulling it towards him and practically throwing his body through it. Bullets pinged off the door as he reached to pull it closed, and that's when he saw it.

One of the shooters had changed positions, probably to cut off his escape. It hadn't worked, but now, he had a perfect shot at Tony; his partner was a sitting duck.

McGee wrenched open the door, just in time to see twin muzzle flashes, and Tony, his partner, his friend, jerk and fall to the ground, motionless.

He didn't even remember reacting, his body seemed to act on its own, on reflex, as he drew his weapon and trained it on the body of the asshole who'd shot his partner. Tony's shot, however, hadn't missed its mark, and the shooter lay dead with a neat bullet hole in his temple.

"You got him, Tony," he whispered.

Tony. Oh my god, Tony. Shit! He couldn't think about that now, there was still an active shooter.

Advancing his position, McGee's eyes searched the warehouse for movement. It was eerily silent.

Then, he saw it, a dark figure emerging from behind a stack of barrels, clearly unaware that there was still a federal agent in the building.

"NCIS! Stop or I shoot!" McGee yelled, and even he was surprised by the deadly tone of his voice.

The figure froze. McGee could tell he was contemplating how quickly he could draw his weapon. "Don't even try it," McGee warned dangerously. "Now drop the weapon."

After another tense moment, the man conceded, dropping his automatic weapon down by his feet.

"Hands on your head. Move and I put a bullet through your brain," he threatened, closing in on the shooter quickly. He had to get to Tony.

Getting out his handcuffs, McGee jerked the suspect's hands behind his back, making sure he was uncomfortable.

"That hurt? Good. Your friend shot my partner," he growled, before reading him his Miranda Rights, trying to keep his voice steady. But his hands were starting to tremble and fear was starting to consume him. The tough agent that had just taken down the last shooter? He was disappearing, rapidly. And he was being replaced with a Timothy McGee that really wasn't welcome right now.

A pit began to form in his stomach as he yanked the remaining shooter to his feet, steering him toward where his teammate had fallen. He'd followed protocol, he'd secured the suspect, and now he had to check on his partner.

Tony. Was there any way he was even alive? How was he going to tell Gibbs that his second in command was gone? That he'd trusted him to watch his six and that he had failed?

Tony. The man who teased and ridiculed him on a regular basis, but also the man who taught him how to be an agent. He couldn't be gone, could he?

A tear traveled down his cheek.

This wasn't what was supposed to happen. He became an agent to save lives. The good guys weren't supposed to go down, the bad guys were.

Tony had disarmed him in their first five months of knowing each other. He had made Tim believe he was invincible, that nothing brought him down. He always had a comeback, always found a way to laugh. He never took the life and death that they dealt with everyday seriously. So how was McGee to think that anything serious could happen to him?

This couldn't be happening.

"Nice collar, McBadass."

Tim couldn't help it, he jumped, head shooting up in surprise at the sound of Tony's voice.

"Tony! You're…you're alive!" McGee stumbled over his words as he felt his knees start to buckle. Because there, emerging from behind their hiding spot, was none other than Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo.

"Gotta love bulletproof vests," Tony explained, pulling aside his jacked to reveal the bullet lodged in his protection, directly over his heart. "Though uh, maybe we need to invest in helmets or something – I cracked my head on something on the way down and woke up to find my probationary agent disobeying a direct order."

Tim couldn't help it. A huge grin broke out on his face. He couldn't even comprehend the emotions he was experiencing. Seeing Tony go down like that, he didn't think he'd ever felt more scared or helpless in his life. But he'd risen to the occasion, secured the suspects, and then miraculously, Tony was back on his feet, as if the whole thing had been just a bad dream.

"Semper fidelis, Tony. I wasn't leaving you behind."

Tony tried to glare at him, but he was seriously failing. McGee could see the exact point when Tony realized that arguing the point would be futile. His face relaxed and he reached out a weak hand to grasp McGee's shoulder. "You did good, McGee."

"Thanks," McGee replied as they made a quick sweep of the warehouse to ensure that all of the shooters were indeed dead and it was safe to leave the scene to call backup. Then they both walked the car, their one remaining suspect still in tow. A long night of processing and paperwork awaited them.

Depositing the suspect in the back seat, Tim took the moment to collect his thoughts. He had made it. He wasn't at just some boring desk job, he was an NCIS special agent. But it wasn't something to be taken lightly.

He looked at Tony. His teammate's normally perfectly styled hair was sticking up all over the place. He had a cut near his hairline that was already swelling, blood still slowly oozing out and beginning to drip down his face. His jacket now unzipped, he could see the torn fabric where the bullet had ripped through, thankfully stopped by the vest.

Seeing that bullethole, the gravity of the situation hit him. Tony had almost died. He was not infallible, he was human. No matter how put together he always looked, not matter how blasé he acted when faced with danger, a little piece of metal could have ended his life.

McGee had finally seen the Tony DiNozzo that he'd heard about in all of those stories, and he wasn't sure if he liked it. It reminded him of their mortality, of the dangers they faced every day. Tony was normally immaculately dressed and well put-together, with a 100-watt grin on his face; seeing him in his present state, Tim was being hit with the realities of his chosen career.

"Something on my face, Probie?" Tony's voice broke through his thoughts. He looked up to see Tony peering at him over the roof of the car.

"Yeah, actually – blood," he replied, nodding towards the cut that was still bleeding sluggishly down Tony's temple.

He watched as Tony brought his hand up to his face, searching for the cut.

"Oh – yeah. I guess there is," he said, raising his hand in front of his face, but shrugging it off.

"You gonna get that looked at?" McGee asked, hoping Tony might choose the sensible option here.

"Nah. Not a big fan of doctors – don't tell Ducky that. I'll be fine, I've had worse."

"In your first firefight?" McGee couldn't help it, he was curious. Maybe it would help him understand DiNozzo better.

Tony turned to face him as they reached the vehicle, a small smirk on his face. If McGee didn't know any better, he would have thought Tony looked proud – and slightly amused – that his probie was pressing him. After regarding him for a moment, Tony finally spoke, "if I tell you this, you don't breathing a word of it to anyone, got it?"

"Got it," McGee promised, secretly happy that Tony was letting him in a little.

"Ok, I'm not proud of this," Tony warned dramatically. "It was a mess. I took one in the thigh. Apparently, here are some important arteries in there or something. I bled all over Gibbs, ruined his jacket. Talk about embarrassing. He made sure I heard about it for weeks; you'd think it was a Zegna piece or something. Anyways, it wasn't how I'd envisioned making my first impression on my new boss."

Inwardly, McGee grinned. Tony had once been a probie too. But he had to clear something up: "Tony, you know everyone in the Navy Yard knows that story, right?

"They do not!" Tony protested. "I never tell anyone that story!"

"Well apparently someone has been, because I've heard it about a dozen times. But Tony, you left out one big part," McGee teased.

"No I didn't!" Tony insisted.

McGee grinned wider. "Word around the Yard is that you passed out in Gibbs' arms and he had to carry you back to the car, bridal style."

One look at Tony's face was all McGee needed to confirm the story was indeed true.

"Abby," Tony growled. "That story better stop with you, McLooseLips, or so help me, you'll learn the real power of superglue."

The warning was playful, but McGee had no doubt Tony would carry it out. "It's too late, Tony," he reminded, "I told you, the whole Navy Yard already knows."

Tony's glare rivaled Gibbs'. "That may be, Probie. But if I ever hear anyone speak of it again, I'm coming for you."

McGee's eyes widened. "Tony! That's an impossible demand! There's no way I can make everyone stop talking about it. You know how the FLETC trainees are!"

"You're right, it's an impossible demand," Tony nodded solemnly.

McGee could tell he was just playing with him now. "So, you won't take it out on me?" McGee hedged, just to make sure.

"No, I won't," Tony said with a smile that was just a little too big.

McGee's eyes narrowed. He couldn't tell what that smile meant, but he'd take it. He gave a small nod of appreciation at Tony. Pulling the keys out of his jacket, he went to open the car door.

"Or will I?"

McGee's head snapped up. Tony shot him a grin and then swiftly got into the car. "C'mon, McGee, we've got a scene to process."

McGee rolled his eyes and got in. He was pretty sure Tony was just joking anyways. Hopefully. Or maybe the office was already booby trapped and he would find his butt glued to his chair when he got back. He sighed. The Tony he was used to was definitely back - and oddly, he wouldn't have it any other way.


Hope you enjoyed! Please leave a review if you like, they definitely help power me through writing :)

Peas,

Stephanie