Disclaimer: NCIS characters and situations borrowed; the original story and scenario from "Believe Again" by Montana-Rosalie, FFN story ID #5047152 .

A/N: Continuing thanks to M-R for the original idea and permission to beat it to death. Continuing from the POV of individual characters to Tony's injury, this is the second installment of "duets" between Tony with another character, as he moves past his physical recovery and on back into life.

CHRONOLOGY WARNING: As explained previously, installments are not in the AU's chronological order. This one can actually be the last, chronologically, or could occur before Vance's installment, which falls six months after Tony's return to NCIS post-injury. Otherwise, in order that occurred, Ziva/Ch. 1 runs the full time line; the others run in order: Ducky/Ch. 5, Abby/Ch. 3, McGee/Ch. 4, Tony/ Ch.6, Gibbs/Ch. 2, Tony & Abby/Ch.8, to Vance/Ch. 7.

As always, thanks for reading, alerting, favoriting and (admittedly the most day-making) your comments and reviews. Whatever you have to say, I'm interested!

BELIEVING STILL

From complete unconsciousness – or so he thought – McGee was suddenly aware of a dull, throbbing ache, first just below his knee, then snaking up along his thigh until his entire left leg reminded him of where he was and why. He grimaced, eyes still closed, the frustration of the case growing sharp again as his memory worked past the sedation and pain killers. Bad lead, bad circumstances; off the clock and no reason to worry about things going haywire...

From somewhere at his right, he heard a slight shift and a snap, and Tim was aware that, where the room was now quiet, moments before there had been the soft, clicking sounds of a laptop keyboard. "Sleeping beauty sounds like he's coming around."

That surprised him. He fought to open his bleary eyes as he turned to look at his former partner. "Tony?"

"Ah – oriented to time and person. Unless you're saying you're Tony, which would mean we have a problem."

Tim grunted softly to himself as he rolled his head back to center on the pillow and closed his eyes.

He could hear the grin in DiNozzo's voice as it spoke again. "Answers that one – oriented." McGee could also hear the worry there, a sound he'd learned over the years when Tony had tried to joke or minimize bad situations – that sound underneath the bluster of a perceptive, concerned friend and colleague. "So if you need another round of meds or a drink or something, I have an 'in' with tonight's shift; Jennifer and Stacy and Dennis are on duty tonight, and they all said..."

"Dennis?"

"Well, yeah, McGee; you some kind of sexist that you don't like male nurses? Because Dennis could probably make your life miserable if he knew..."

McGee pried his eyes open again and looked back at his friend, who not all that long ago had announced to a rather doting staff nurse, on his own transfer from a long term care floor to the rehab department across campus, "no offense, Annie, but the only way anyone will get me back into a hospital ever is with a toe-tag – and that's not likely because I plan to have 'just take me to Ducky' tattooed on my backside." Tim saw the concern etched across DiNozzo's features, and was touched that Tony had been willing to break that very sincere vow just to come see him. "What time is it?"

"About 8," Tony said without checking, and his voice softened a little in his concern. "You conscious enough yet to know how you're doing?"

"Yeah – about the same. The same things hurt that did before."

DiNozzo smiled a little. "That's a good sign." He seemed to listen for another moment, assessing Tim's status, before he added, "you know, I think that all those years I was senior field agent I gave you plenty to emulate – how to investigate, how to interview – how to manage Gibbs – but I didn't think I would have to spell out for you that being senior field agent does not have to mean becoming a 'preferred customer' at Bethesda. What is this, third time this year?"

McGee protested, "that last time was just because Ducky said..."

DiNozzo nodded, smirking, "yeah, you didn't pick up that lesson either, how to evade Ducky's directives."

"Well this one shouldn't count. We were off duty, and I was headed out for the weekend."

"Senior Field Agent Rule number 2, Probie – there is never 'off duty' for senior field agents as far as the bad guys are concerned. You know, you now may be looking at a list of your own, all those people who want you dead." DiNozzo suddenly grinned widely. "I guess that means I'm one hell of a role model."

Even in the circumstances, even with the dark thread of reality in Tony's words, Tim found himself shaking his head – and smirking a little – at the always irrepressible, vain, self-congratulatory banter Tony could manage out of almost any situation. The familiarity and inanity of it made him feel a little more relaxed and – safe. He really does have a lot to teach me about being a senior field agent – and about being there for the team, McGee found himself musing sleepily.

The thought led him to replay the past twenty four hours or so since they'd found him, his mind suddenly more alert with the implication – he vaguely remembered Ziva arriving at the cold, icy roadside shortly after the state troopers found him, her riding in at his side in the ambulance, and Gibbs meeting them at the hospital, the worried whispers about bullet holes and tire damage that wasn't a result of wear. Time crunched shortly after that, with surgery and the fuzzy hours of post-op lost to him, but he did remember Gibbs being there just after he woke up the first time, and remembered that not too long ago, Abby and Ducky were around when they brought him to a regular room. Or ... that's what he thought he remembered...

It occurred to him that he wasn't all that sure what he actually remembered, and what he filled in from experience. He'd been involved in a handful of similar hospital 'shifts' on the other side of the equation – as a visitor, not as patient – and probably filled in what he knew would have happened if it had been one of the others. The team always rallied around the downed teammate, more insistent and tireless than any biological family would be – and clearly better armed. He still remembered, too vividly, the gut-wrenching vigils they'd had with Gibbs' coma, with Ziva and Tony's explosion, the one that took Tony from the team and from his position as field agent. Now it was his turn in the bed, and in an odd way, the fact that they all came to be with him as they had for the others suddenly made him feel more accepted and a part of the team than many other things had. Especially because they had an agent posted at the door, and because Tony wasn't assigned to the team anymore, Tony's being there with him – not assigned to be, or to hurry the team back to being on one piece, but because he was a friend and wanted to be – gave him a sense of belonging that confirmed what he hoped he'd sensed in the last few years at NCIS. From DiNozzo, no less, he marveled, remembering how miserable he'd been during those first couple years.

Swallowing the emotion the realization had suddenly brought, McGee remembered what the patient usually did in these circumstances and tried to do the same thing. "You know ... if you're here to play role model again, I'm probably not alert enough yet to learn anything." Tony would understand that was his way of telling him to go home – wouldn't he? "Is that why you're not home harassing Ziva?" Just in case he didn't... McGee told himself.

"That just shows how much you have to learn, little Probie. I think you'll have to admit that if anyone around here has some mad hospital skills, it's me. Months in the making."

"You were in a coma for most of those months!"

"I was undercover..." Tony grinned suddenly, the idea clearly just popping up now, and one that pleased him immensely. "Gathering intel."

Rolling his eyes as he snorted at the thought, Tim sighed wearily, feeling the pull of sleep even over the pain in his leg. "They'll probably kick you out pretty soon anyway," Tim tried with less certainty. Truth was, he didn't really want Tony to leave.

"Not here. Believe me, I have some serious love in this place, all the interns and medical students they've paraded in to see me, both times I was here for a while, after looking at my chart – I think they may actually have named a wing after me by now. If they try to kick me out, all I have to do is point them to the MRIs and x-rays they have here of my lungs and my head..."

"Your head, for sure..." Tim muttered, unable – again – to stop the grin as he rose to the bait. Tony being Tony ... who would ever have thought it could be such a stabilizing, comforting feeling...

"And anyway..." Tony's voice softened a little, "I heard they'll have you here for at least another few days and I owed you..."

At least another few days was the very least, Tim swallowed at the reminder, because that would mean that they'd gotten to him in time and would be able to save his foot and leg. At least the last time he was alert enough to catch the doctor's words, he had about a fifty-fifty shot at it. "Anyone say anything about that yet, about the surgery?" he asked, the thought enough to rouse him to again open his eyes and look at his former partner.

He saw Tony's expression morph into his most sincere, honest one. "I didn't hear anything official, and I talked to Gibbs when I got here – he didn't have any news either. But," he smiled softly, "I have been here when Nurse Stacy and even Nurse Dennis came in to check things, and they were making those little nurse noises – you know, the hmmphs and all – and they were happy, perky little grunts, not the worried kind." He shrugged. "I think they think you're doing okay." He paused a moment, then added, "but if you want me to check – or to call someone in to ask..."

McGee surprised himself by saying, "nah. Maybe later." Although he knew that any news he got now wouldn't change the outcome, he would normally want to know everything, immediately. He also knew that even if Tony believed that the nurses were making positive little sounds, it might not mean anything.

Still. In his room, at his bedside, was his former senior field agent who was bashed and battered frequently in his years on the team, but more importantly, had survived a deadly medieval disease and a usually fatal head injury. DiNozzo was actually right; they should name a wing after him. And having him here, Tim almost felt as if Tony's stubborn luck and titanium constitution could rub off on him – maybe he should start by believing in "those little nurse noises" the way Tony did.

Tim looked back at DiNozzo as the second part of his statement registered. "Why do you owe me?"

Tony snorted. "Well, gas money, among other things?"

McGee thought for a moment then made the probable connection. "Oh – visiting?" The months of Tony in a coma, the weeks after he awoke and more after he transferred to the rehab facility... yeah, they all had been out to see Tony after his most recent injury. But it hadn't ever been about adding up a score...

"More like moving in with me," Tony's eyebrow lifted wryly. "We'll hope you don't make this a habit, so I'll just pay back now. Since you will have a few days this trip, and since thanks to you I have the portable hospital entertainment center..."

Tim's eyes followed as, with his words, Tony reached over to pat the top of the familiar looking disc player he'd installed in Tony's room, while he was still in a coma. "I brought a selection of movies, but you know I've got the largest personal collection of anyone on the Eastern Seaboard at home," he exaggerated. "So if you have a movie you want to see, let me know and I either have it or will get a copy and expand my collection."

Tim grinned tiredly, touched by Tony's act. Feeling another level of relaxation take him over, despite the pain in his leg and the vaguely insistent fear that the surgery wouldn't have come soon enough to save it, he asked, "what did you bring?'

"Quite an eclectic mix, although all with the nerdy geek in mind – or is it geeky nerd?" Tony beamed as his enthusiasm for this private movie festival – and its medicinal qualities, of which he was certain – took him over. "We've got '2001,' 'Wargames,' 'The Day the Earth Stood Still...' – the original, not that last thing..."

"Klaatu ... barada ... nikto..." Tim murmured sleepily.

"ExACTly," Tony crowed, then his grin softened again, slightly – knowingly. "Why don't I put something on ... I've got some guy stuff, too – Three Stooges, Wyle E. Coyote..."

"You pick." Tim murmured as he nestled against the pillows. He noticed that the pain in his leg, while constant, wasn't as bad as it had been originally, and he figured the self-dosing machine must have given him another round of morphine or whatever big-league pain killers they were giving him. Yeah, that was probably it...

"Well, let's see. Evening fare? I guess it would have to be 'It Came from Outer Space.' Classic!" Tony reached for the stack of CDs on the bedside tray next to the DVD player and, after skimming his finger quickly along the cases' edges, now each embossed with a thin strip of Braille markings, pulled one from the stack. "1953; often copied, never matched. Directed by Jack Arnold, the genius of the genre. Probie, he directed 'The Creature from the Black Lagoon,' The Incredible Shrinking Man' ... a true master."

Tony's prattling of movie stats raised another sleepy grin from McGee as the movie was loaded up and started. He really didn't catch much of the movie; other than a very soft, "okay, Probie, this is the really important part" and what he thought was a resumption, not too long after, of the soft clatter of a laptop keyboard, McGee was soon oblivious to the movie ... his injuries ... the pain. His senior field agent had taken charge again and had his six, so he could rest and get better. His sleep was deep and, finally, more restful than it had been since he'd gotten there.

After all ... who else on the team had the experience and dumb luck at all this that Dinozzo did?