Chapter Three

They met Ziva almost immediately as they exited the elevators. Tony didn't think she ever looked so happy. Not even when she found out he hadn't been blown up with his old car.

She bounced up to them in a very Abby-like way. She answered the silent questions right away. "He is fine. They got him into surgery as soon as he arrived. The doctor said that once they got him to the O.R. it was just a clean and sew job. The bullet didn't hit anything other than muscle and fat tissue."

Tony found that hard to believe. "But what about—"

Ziva interrupted him. "He was definitely in danger of bleeding out, Tony. He nearly did because it took so long to get here. They had to give him four pints of blood. He is very lucky."

"Well, where is he?" Gibbs finally asked.

"Follow me."

Ziva led them to almost the end of a long, quiet hallway, turning left into the second to last door. At seeing McGee sleeping peacefully in his bed, Tony found Ziva's joy to be almost contagious. Although he looked paler than normal, even in comparison to the white sheets he was under, the steady rise and fall of his chest gave Tony comfort.

Gibbs took three long strides to the foot of the bed and picked up the chart hanging there. Tony watched him become more and more frustrated as he read through all the medical jargon. "Dammit." He growled after only a few moments. "Where's Ducky when you need him."

"He wouldn't say," came a mumbled reply from the bed.

"McGee!" Tony and Gibbs said at the same time.

He smiled. "Hey, guys. Where's the party?"

Gibbs stepped around to the right side of the bed and asked, "Are you okay?" he looked at him hard. "Honesty."

McGee didn't back down. "Exhausted. Sleepy." He shrugged. "And a little stoned."

Ziva and Tony giggled. The corners of Gibbs' mouth twitched.

Tony asked, "Is it the good stuff?"

A small laugh escaped McGee's throat as he readjusted his shoulders.

Tony sat down on the bed, pushing McGee's legs to the side. "You know, as much as I hate hospitals, the morphine makes it worth it. When I was a rookie in Peoria…"

Tony talked to McGee for a long time. So long, that eventually Gibbs and Ziva both left. By the time it got dark, McGee had fallen asleep and Tony had moved to the surprisingly comfortable chair to McGee's right.

Abby and Palmer came to visit, but refused to wake the patient up. Abby fussed over him, fixing his covers and actually fluffing his pillow. She pulled up one of the plastic chairs on the opposite side of where Tony had stayed reclined during the visit. She rested her chin in her hand and stroked his hair, never taking her eyes off of him.

Palmer picked up the chart and mentioned something about 'the good stuff,' causing Tony to snicker as he hay with his hands behind his head. "So you ever find out where Ducky was?" Tony asked

Palmer shrugged. "Just visiting a friend. Abby was the one who made him talk."

Abby gave a smile, but didn't look up. It was odd how quiet she was being.

"Abbs?" Tony asked.

No response.

"Abby!" he said, only slightly louder.

She tore her eyes away from McGee's face and Tony could see a fury behind her eyes like he had never seen before. "What?" she asked, scary calm.

"Did you and Ziva switch bodies after Gibbs and I left HQ earlier? Because you sure are acting like each other."

Abby seemed to calm a little at the jibe. "I'm sorry, Tony." She gave him a soft smile. "I've just been so worried all day and it took me a long time to get through the evidence."

"Are you sure that's all, because I can see you planning some sort of torturous revenge on whoever planned this situation. All you really need now is the creepy accent."

"Yeah and some high-heeled, leather boots," Palmer spoke up from behind the chart. A second later, Tony saw his eyes widen. He looked around nervously. "Umm… Did I just say that out loud?"

After a while, Abby and Palmer left. Tony promised them that he would get some sleep later, but he just wasn't ready to leave yet. Although, to be honest, he had no intention of leaving.

Today had been a close one. It wasn't as if Tony hadn't lost partners before, and he knew it could have all turned out so much worse. But the real reason he didn't want to leave wasn't to watch over him. Tony knew he was well taken care of. As stupid as it may seem, he felt guilty for what had happened. No, he had not planned the attack, or pulled the trigger, but… well…. Sure when Tim was a probie Tony teased him constantly and made him do all the heavy lifting, but that was to make him a better man, a stronger man. A stronger person. But Tony knew now that McGee didn't need that kind of thing anymore. So why did he have to do it today.

A small prickling on the back of his neck told Tony he was being watched. He looked over at the only other occupant in the room.

Even though it was somewhat dark, Tony knew Tim's eyes were open because of the reflection of the dim light behind Tony shone in them.

Tony sat up slowly and asked, "How long have you been awake?"

He appeared to tilt his head in Tony's direction. "Long enough to know that you mumble to yourself. And you feel guilty about what happened."

Perceptive, this one, Tony thought. "You know it's rude to watch someone without them knowing it."

McGee gave a quiet bark of laughter. "Tony, we watch people without them knowing it all the time."

"Stakeouts are government sanctioned and perfectly within reason. Where's your warrant."

Tim looked back up at the ceiling. "It's not your fault, Tony. You didn't want this to happen."

Tony lay back down, looking straight up as well. They both sat in silence for a moment.

Suddenly, Tony couldn't hold it in anymore. "I had my camera with me," he blurted out, making McGee jump. He brought his hands together and began picking at his nails. "I was just being an ass. I mean, you're not a probie anymore, and I know I shouldn't act like that, and—"

"Tony," McGee said softly, but forcefully. Tony sat up slowly and met his gaze. McGee took a moment to continue, like he was trying to think it through. "Okay… maybe I'm a little mad that you made me climb all the way back up that sheer drop, but…" he took a deep breath. "This is not your fault." He looked at Tony in a very Gibbs-like way. "If it was me they were after, they would have found a way. If they were just looking for a random victim… well, what if they had gotten Palmer? They missed him by seconds you know. We should just feel good that everything turned out the way it did. I'm fine, they're dead. We'll figure out what happened."

Tony took in what his partner had said. He was the smart one after all, and Tony was glad. He was glad that McGee always knew what to say. How he could say so few words and have them mean so much. He wasn't completely absolved of his guilt, but he saw the light at the end of the tunnel, so to speak.

Tony got up and went to sit next to McGee on the bed. "I'm glad you're alive, Tim."

A few minutes of silence, then, "Tony?" McGee asked.

"Yeah?"

"What if I told you that…" he paused, "that I think I did die?"

"I'd say you've watched too many episodes of Touched by an Angel."

"Tony." McGee sounded slightly annoyed.

"What?"

"I'm trying to tell you something here."

"Right. I'm sorry. Why do you think you died?"

"Because it was too real to have been a dream."

Tony paused. "What was too real?"

"I—" his eyes shot from his feet, to the ceiling, and then back to Tony. "I saw the future."

Tony was at a loss for words. "You—wait—what?"

Tim now seemed completely unsure of himself. "Well it's not like somebody told me it was the future, and you weren't older or anything. I just—knew."

I wasn't—wait. Me? "What—you saw my future?"

McGee nodded, looking at his hands. Tony studied him, trying to figure out if he was serious. Tim wasn't looking at him and his hands were noticeably shaking. He could see a slight flush to his cheeks that made it look like Tim regretted saying anything at all.

"Tim?" he said.

The use of McGee's first name caused him to look up in some surprise. "Yeah?"

"What did you see?"

McGee still looked uncomfortable, but he started anyway. "Just don't look at me like I'm crazy, okay." He gave Tony a small smile as if to say 'if you can.' "We—I think we were chasing a suspect. I couldn't see him at first, but you were in front and we had our guns drawn. At some point we caught up to him and he turned and pointed a gun at us. You—you tried to talk him down, but," McGee's voice shook and he started wringing his hands. "I think he was high. His eyes were really shifty and he kept twitching. I was really scared because I knew he couldn't be reasoned with and he was liable to fire at any moment."

Tony watched as a single tear made it's was down McGee's cheek. He wanted to reach out and comfort him, but Tim gave him a desperate look, that said he needed to finish.

Wiping the tear from where it was threatening to drip from his jaw, he continued in a heavy voice, head down. "You had his attention, so I started moving around him to the other side, but he saw me and started screaming. It was very pulp fiction," he said without a trace of humor. "He was aiming at me, but you came and stood in the way, made him focus on you. I was kind of frozen, I couldn't think. But you—you almost had him giving you the gun, but then he saw Gibbs coming up from behind us and he flipped. Too many people all at once. He just started shooting. At anything and everything... but the only one he hit was you. Gibbs took him out, but it was… it was too late."

He looked back up into Tony's eyes, just as the tears were starting to break free. "You were dead."

AN: So, what do you think. There are a few reveals in this chapter, but for the most part it will be pretty slow-paced until chapter five. Currently working on chapter six, but I probably won't update until the day after tomorrow. I need some room to fall back on for the weekdays. Constructive criticism is welcome. Love to all who have reviewed so far, and a little bit extra to those of you have added me to their favorite authors lists.