Long time no update. I'm sorry to everyone who's followed and has been waiting for new chapters. When I posted this story I intended to make it a quick one shot with an epilogue, but it got a...polarized response so I'm going to make it just a little longer. (Only a handful of chapters.) Before I continue, I'd just like to thank the reviewers so far. Some people were a little annoyed, I can tell, but yes, Tony was just imagining Tim, like he did with Kate. I probably should have updated right away so that everyone would have been more clear on that, but thank you to the people who got it and appreciated it. Also, yes, Gibbs would usually be the one charging after McGee when he went missing instead of DiNozzo, but this is a friendship fic between Tony and Tim. That being said, please enjoy the story and let me know what you think.

...

The whole ride back to the crime scene, Tony continued to imagine McGee, and continued to yell at him for his unnecessary nobility. The Tim in his head was far more nonchalant and blasé than the real Tim, but that might have had something to do with the fact that DiNozzo had seen his friend act more reckless and wild in that evening than in the entire decade that he'd known him. This new impression of his coworker manifested itself in his stressed mind. He'd done the same thing with Kate when she died- he'd thought of her as far more disapproving and taunting towards him than she'd been in real life. But he had to stop doing that…as far as he knew, Tim wasn't dead; there was no reason for him to show up and fill Tony with guilt.

Gibbs had called for backup the moment the gunfight started, so the reinforcement team was already there, investigating the crime scene. The team leader approached the agent as soon as he stepped out of the car.

"Agent DiNozzo."

"Any word on McGee?"

"Not yet, we sent a dog out but he lost the trail a mile and a half from here. We did apprehend two of your shooters and finished up the original crime scene investigation. You said that there were three, right?"

"Yeah, two of them ran after McGee…only the one stayed behind. We got him when he stopped shooting to reload."

"Right, Gibbs passed him over to us before he left to check on you at the hospital. We got the other one while he was running through the woods. Any idea as to why they were so intent on catching Agent McGee?"

"He had something with him…he found a flash drive on the victim…I guess that's why they showed up in the first place. To get it back."

"Not the brightest crooks in the world. We're searching for the last one right now."

"Great, thanks," Tony said wearily, grabbing a flashlight and turning to observe the other beams of light that were sweeping the area for anything that might indicate McGee's whereabouts. "I'm going out with them. Keep Gibbs posted, too."

The guilt was at this point eating him alive. He wanted to smack Tim upside the head, sure, but he knew full well that if Tim hadn't done what he did, none of them would have lived through the night.

….

It was supposed to be a simple crime scene investigation. (At midnight, sure, but they'd had later assignments.) The man was a petty officer, shot at point blank range and, according to Ducky, dragged and dumped in the woods no less than two days before.

A quick examination of the surrounding area yielded quite the array of evidence. Ziva found a wallet near the victim's feet; Tim found a flash drive in his hand.

The body was half hidden by a massive fallen tree, which explained why it had taken park rangers two days to notice him, even though he wasn't a dozen yards from a popular hiking trail.

They should have been finished with the crime scene within an hour, but things took a turn for the worse when, in their sweep of the nearby area, Ziva and Tony ran into three armed men. It wasn't clear whether they had been the actual killers of the petty officer, but they'd definitely played a part in his demise, and had returned to the scene to one reason or another.

A vicious fight broke out in the stillness of the forest. While running for cover, Ziva was shot in the leg. Tony and McGee both dove to help her, immediately putting pressure to stop the bleeding, but a bullet whizzed between their faces, and Tim jerked backwards, taking cover. DiNozzo pulled Ziva out of the line of fire. Gibbs, meanwhile, had instinctively reached for Ducky, and now had the elderly man and Palmer safe behind the thick trunk of a different tree not ten feet from where McGee stood. They were pinned down as a hail of bullets flew by, shooting back to no avail.

McGee's heart raced. Ziva's blood slicked his hands, making it difficult to grip his gun, so he tore off his crime scene gloves. He could see Palmer and Ducky being shielded by Gibbs. And there were Tony and Ziva, pinned down only a few yards away under the thick log that had concealed their victim. DiNozzo was trying his damnedest to stop her leg from bleeding, while also attempting to return fire without getting himself killed. The agents had been taken by surprise, and they were outnumbered, outgunned, and almost blind without their flashlights. (It looked like only Palmer had held on to his in the firefight.)

And suddenly there was a rush of clarity in McGee's mind. This didn't happen often in stressful situations; usually he gave over to the purely analytical side of himself, acting only on autopilot until the threat was neutralized. But they were only a few short minutes into this ordeal and with a strong, horrified burst of intuition, Tim could see the outcome of this little battle.

They were going to die. Gibbs was currently calling for backup, but who knows when they'd get there. (It was the middle of the night- was anyone awake to back them up at all?) They would run out of ammo long before their unseen attackers did. They had combat-grade machine guns. The agents had hand-pieces, and less guns than people to defend. Even in the best of settings there was little way out of this. With Ziva down, Tony trying to help her, and Gibbs working to protect the medical examiners, it was clear that no one had even a shot at gaining the upper hand.

Except for McGee.

Without thinking, Tim grasped the flash drive in one hand and tightened his hold on his weapon. The little flash drive was what they'd come for, he realized. They wouldn't have waited two days to come back for the body- they'd forgotten the flash drive and it had taken two days for them to notice it was missing.

With a deep breath, McGee shot out from behind the tree. But instead of running towards his teammates, he ran the other way entirely.

"Hey!" he shouted, and saw three beams of light point in his direction. Before the confused criminals tried to shoot at him, he continued.

"This what you want?" he yelled, holding the drive up for them to see. A bullet was sent in his direction, but he had anticipated it and ducked out the way ahead of time.

"Come and get it!" he said, running deeper into the woods, firing a couple shots back at the men. It was a stupid, risky move, and McGee knew it. Leading three heavily armed thugs into unfamiliar wilderness was always a bad idea. At the very worse, only one would follow him, leaving the team down another man. It wasn't smart, but it was a plan, which was better than hiding behind trees and waiting for death to claim them. And yes, this stupid diversion was probie-level recklessness. There was a very good chance that running through the dark, firing off shots to pull focus from his team was going to end up with him dead. But it didn't even occur to him to worry about it. It was dangerous, yes, but Tim didn't actually care.

Bullets flew past him, and one grazed his shoulder, the shock of the pain causing him to stumble. But he kept going, no longer bothering to fire back because he was sure to miss. Since McGee wasn't weighed down by heavy guns and had a head start, he put quite a bit of distance between himself and however many of them were following him. He knew there was at least one, because he could hear the footsteps and the occasional gunshot behind him. He must have run a mile before it occurred to him just what he'd gotten himself into.

He hadn't thought this through. To be quite honest, this plan had ended up with him dead, and now that he had gotten away without dying, he wasn't sure what to do. Assuming he'd saved his team, they would have to get Ziva to the hospital, and Ducky and Jimmy the hell out of dodge. There was no coming back for him until they were safe. Yes, Tony or Gibbs might stay behind, but-

McGee's thoughts were interrupted when the ground suddenly seemed to end, and he fell forward. It wasn't that he'd tripped, but that the land had become very steep very quickly. It was only a small ravine, a gully at the most, but in the dark it seemed like he rolled and tumbled for ages before he reached the bottom. His head hit a sharp rock and Tim was unconscious before his body came to a stop.

...

He woke up to the darkness, which meant one of two things: either he'd only been out for a short time, or he'd been out for a whole day. McGee sat up despite his body's aching protests and hissed when his head erupted in pain. Stifling a groan, he reached into his pocket, ignoring the itching in his arm. His phone had plenty of battery, thank god, and he saw that an hour and a half had passed.

There were no missed calls, which made him deflate a little. Where was his team? Were they ok? ...Maybe they were at the hospital getting checked out. Maybe they were out looking for him, or arresting the gunmen. A tiny voice in the back of his head suggested that perhaps they were dead, and his stupid heroics had only made things worse. He was fine with the idea of being responsible for his own demise, but McGee could not handle the thought of his family murdered in the dark because of his idiocy.

His whole body shaking, Tim pressed on Gibbs' contact and listened while the phone rang. Usually he would have to wait several moments before his boss would answer, mostly because the senior agent didn't care about his phone and kept it only in his general vicinity. But he must have had it in his hand, because Jethro's voice could be heard before the first ring was finished.

"McGee?"

"Hey, Boss."

"Where are you?" the senior agent asked.

Tim looked around. "Uh…I think I fell into a ditch. Probably a mile or so from where I…ran. Is everyone ok?"

Gibbs was careful not to let how he was feeling drip into his voice. It was an even mix of fury, pride and worry for his agent, though the younger man's weary, faraway voice was giving an edge to the worry. McGee was of course going to get his ass kicked for pulling this stunt, but getting him home safe was the main priority at the moment. Not bothering to answer the question, Jethro countered with "Are you hurt, McGee?"

Yes, he was. He probably had a small concussion, and there was blood caked on the back of his head. The graze on his arm, now that he looked at it, was more serious than he'd thought. It wasn't so much a graze as a direct hit to the muscle in his arm. And what was worse, it was still bleeding. It was sluggish, but there was definitely a steady flow of blood. With the adrenaline of running through the woods, he hadn't even noticed that he'd actually been shot. But he noticed now, and it hurt like hell.

"I'll survive, Boss. Is Ziva…?"

"She's fine, Tim. Doctors just finished on her leg and she's sleeping."

So they were safe at the hospital. Thank god.

"Did you catch the guys that attacked us?"

There was a pause so uncharacteristic of the older man that McGee knew something was wrong.

"Two of them. There's one more out there."

Tim's heart rate jumped, but he pushed the fear down. "He's probably gone by now, Boss. They must have had a car around here…but I have my gun."

Never mind the fact that there was only one bullet left in the magazine.

"DiNozzo's out looking for you," Gibbs said. "A backup team's with him. I'm on my way."

"Ok. I'll call Tony," McGee said, struggling to stand. His left ankle gave out and he went down on his knee with a grunt, jostling his wounded arm.

"McGee?"

"I'm alright, Boss."

They disconnected the conversation and Tim had his cell text his location to DiNozzo's phone before calling. Like Gibbs, Tony answered immediately.

"Tim!"

"Hey Tony," McGee said, exhausted. His whole body hurt at this point and he resisted the urge to sit down again.

"I just got your text. Stay where you are, we're coming your way."

"Gibbs told me that there's still one of them out here," the younger man said.

"Yeah," DiNozzo said. "We think he's gone by now, but…"

"I'll be careful, Tony."

It was apparently the wrong thing to say, because the older agent said, "If you're hurt I'm gonna kill you, McGee."

With a breathless laugh, Tim doubled over. "Are you close?"

"My maps app says you're twenty minutes away. I gotta hang up, my phone's about to die and we'll never find you if it does."

"Ok, see you in twenty minutes," McGee said, hanging up. When silence fell over the forest again, the agent ran a hand over his face and wondered how he was going to get himself out of the ditch with his malfunctioning ankle and bleeding arm.

It was a long process. The slightest amount of weight on his foot caused a bolt of pain to shoot up his leg, so every movement had to be slow and careful. Once he pulled himself onto even ground, McGee had to sit there and catch his breath. The darkness seemed thicker than it had been before, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. There was still one man out there, possibly looking for him, and he only had one shot left in his gun. It was enough to make him nauseous. Or was that because of his headache?

He could hear footsteps in the distance, and he stood, holding his weapon at the ready. It was probably Tony, but if not, then he was sure he would die, but he planned on taking this bastard down with him.

A light shined in his face, hurting his head like crazy, but he stared into the light, eyes wide, gun drawn.

"Woah, it's just us, McGee."

Tony was flanked by several armed NCIS agents, one of whom reported their location into a radio. Tim lowered his hands, ignoring the pain it caused his arm.

DiNozzo had planned on immediately chewing his friend out for being so stupid, but the younger man was more ragged than he'd expected, and all of his anger flew out the window at the wild expression he wore.

"Were you hit?" Tony asked, moving to inspect Tim's red-painted sleeve. One of the members of the search party got out a small first aid kit and began to attend to the wound, wrapping it up so that it would slow the bleeding until they got to the NCIS emergency transport vehicle.

"It's not that bad," McGee said, even though it certainly felt that bad. "My ankle, though…I think it's broken. I fell into that ditch and hit my head."

"No wonder you didn't call," DiNozzo said, apologetic. "We would have found you sooner, but you're the only one of us who knows how to track a phone…anyone else that could have was home in bed."

"It's ok. Though if you don't mind waiting to kill me until we get to a hospital, I'd appreciate it. I'm pretty sure I'm hurt a little," McGee said, his eyelids fluttering.

"You probably have a concussion," someone said, but Tim's ears were ringing. Why was he so tired? Why did Tony look so worried? The effects of his injuries hit him full force and he was falling again. Numbness overtook him and he was once more pulled into unconsciousness.