Tony was in shock. He and McGee stared at each other for a long while. The tears continued to fall and he was looking at Tony as if he was pleading with him to understand. That he believe him. Tony could see the haunted look in his eyes. He had seen that look before, from people who had seen too much.

He wasn't completely sure of what to say. What Tim was telling him was impossible. Yet everything that he'd ever heard about near death experiences was flying through his mind. He had heard many odd things. But seeing the future?

"Are… are you sure it wasn't just a dream?"

McGee's face fell. "Tony I—I wouldn't lie about something like this."

"No. No, that's not what I said. I—"

Tim was starting to shut off. The tears stopped and he looked away. Pretty much anywhere but at Tony.

Tony rubbed his forehead. Guilty could not begin to express what he was feeling. "McGee. You have to understand how difficult this is to believe."

McGee wiped his face but didn't look up. He looked sincerely hurt.

"McGee, look…. I'm sorry." Nothing. "Tim, look at me," he said, forcefully.

He did.

"I'm sorry. Look, if… if you believe it, then so do I"

He didn't lose his guarded look. "Tony, I know you're just saying that."

"No, I'm not," he said firmly. "If you say that's what you saw, then I believe you. That's what friends are for."

His expression softened and he raised his eyebrows. "Oh, we're friends now, are we?"

"Of course we are."

"Yeah, and it just took me almost dying to get you to admit it." He had a ghost of a smile on his lips.

Tony smiled back. "We've always been friends."

McGee looked at him skeptically.

"Alright, maybe not at first." He sighed. "Just because it might have taken a while, doesn't mean that it's any less real."

Tim nodded, looking happier than before. But then it changed suddenly back to worry. "So, what do you think?" he asked.

"About what, your 'premonition?'" Tony was trying to be open minded, but still found it hard putting a word to it. "Well, we'll just have to be very careful round the crack heads, won't we?" he was trying to lighten the situation. It didn't work.

"Yeah. I guess." McGee still seemed concerned. His brow was furrowed, accentuating the worry lines, and he was biting at the dry skin on his lip.

This had gone on far enough. Tony put his hand on McGee's arm and stood up. "Tim, you need to sleep."

McGee looked at him as if he had forgotten where he was.

Tony found the controls and leaned the bed back, causing McGee to wince at the adjustment as it jostled his wound. "Sorry, man."

"It's okay," he said, stiffly. He relaxed as Tony pulled the sheet up over his chest. "Thanks, Mom." He smiled.

"Ha ha. Now get your ass to sleep. I've had enough of this serious talk for one day. Sweetheart."

Tim chuckled. His eyes were already beginning to close, reminding Tony of a child being put to sleep. He snuggled into the pillow and Tony watched him until his breathing evened out. He ran his hand over McGee's hair. He stood there just wanting to be in contact with him. He couldn't stop thinking that he had come so close to never being able to do it again.

Tony went back to his chair and scooted it right up to the bed and lay down, sticking his feet up onto the bed, feeling more at ease by the connection. He placed his hands behind his head and prepared himself for a night of some serious insomnia. What McGee had said had given him a lot to think about.

Could Tim have really predicted Tony's death? Just the thought was ridiculous. Tony didn't believe in that kind of stuff. At all. Abby, maybe. Ziva, beyond doubt. Tim? Definitely not. He and Tony were similar in a lot of respects, including views about the supernatural. But now? He could tell that the rational side of McGee didn't want to believe it. He was just trying to get someone to tell him he wasn't crazy.

However, if that was the case, he would have told Ziva. She had told them about being open to things that people necessarily wouldn't understand when they were investigating on the Chimera. She would have believed him without batting an eye. But he told Tony. Of course, the—what was he supposed to call it—vision was about him.

'But it was too late. You were dead.' The words rang in his head, growing in volume all the time. McGee had been so upset. So scared. Tony looked up into his face. He was sleeping peacefully. His eyes were moving around excitedly behind the lids as he dreamt. Hopefully something less chilling than what he had seen before. Tony always figured he was the only one never to be seriously injured because he deserved it the least. He was the kindest, smartest, most caring person Tony knew. Why couldn't it have happened to him? If anybody deserved this it would be Tony. He sure as hell wasn't worthy enough to have such an amazing friend like Tim. If anything ever….

He spoke quietly. "I promise you, Tim, I'm gonna be a better friend. I'm gonna make sure that there are no more doubts about that." He took a deep breath. "I love you, Tim." He smiled. "And, yes, I know how that sounds, but I mean it. I don't think I could live without my best friend."

Tony readjusted on the chair, wishing he could make himself say all that to his partner's face. But whether he could say it or not, he intended on showing it. He didn't want McGee to ever be unsure about their friendship again.

McGee was getting tired of this. Two weeks after he almost died and one week back on the job-desk duty, of course-and the team had already gotten two cases. Sure he got to help with all the technical and computer work, but that didn't stop them from leaving him to his own devices while they went into the field. He had gone down to Abby's lab once, but when she had nothing to do, the music went up and the weirdness came out. As much as he loved that side of Abby, it was a bit much to handle all the time.

The newest case started to the day before, and the team was out in the field interviewing potential suspects. They had worked his case, but when no new leads came up, Director Vance put it on the backburner.

The people who had tried to kill him were mercenaries for hire. Thankfully, they weren't professional killers, or he wouldn't have stood a chance. The trouble was not knowing who had hired them. They couldn't figure out who would want him dead. That is, if it was him they were after.

McGee sat back in his chair carefully, the wound was still sore. He had already searched everything that he could think of. Past cases where he was primarily involved in the arrest. Terrorist cells, anyone with a vengeance against the agency or the team. He had come up with nothing. There was just no way to connect the mercenaries with an employer. They were too good.

But that wasn't what really concerned him. Tony said he believed him, but McGee knew better. Tony was just trying to placate him so he would go back to sleep, because he was hurt. McGee understood, of course, he would have done the same thing. He knew that Tony cared, but the fact was they hadn't talked about it again since that night. He avoided it like the plague, and for Tony that was saying something. McGee knew it sounded crazy. He had a hard time believing it himself, but he couldn't deny what he saw. Seeing Tony die…. He imagined it was exactly what Tony had seen when he was lying on the ground next to that cliff.

He had tried to talk to Abby, after all, she would know about that kind of stuff. But each time he tried, the words just wouldn't come out. She had that expectant look in her eyes, and he knew that she would believe him just on principal. He didn't think he could take that. Ziva was also an option, but that wouldn't do either. She would try to explore it, and when Ziva got interested in something, she would grab on like a pit bull and shake it until it was dead.

And then there was Gibbs. He would listen with empathy, but that would be about it. Gibbs cared about everyone on his team, but he could offer little more than a few consoling words and a pat on the back. He was more of a protector than a talker. Of course, it was just that about him that would soon get Tony killed. Assuming that what he saw was the future, and not just some stupid dream that made him look like an idiot.

He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the desk, placing his forehead in his hands. He hadn't slept well in days. The vision just wouldn't leave his mind. Every time he closed his eyes he saw Tony lying on the ground, his lifeless eyes staring up at the sky. He stood up suddenly, unable to take it anymore. He had to get out of here. He grabbed his gun and badge, ill-used as of late, and headed quickly toward the elevators, only to run head long into Palmer, heading the other way.

McGee cried out and grabbed his chest, doubling over.

"Oh my God, McGee. I'm so sorry." Palmer said, frantically. "Are you okay?" He helped McGee to stand up, and held him upright, while he caught his breath.

McGee nodded. "What are you doing up here?" he asked, probably harsher than he should have.

"Just dropping off a report. Are you sure you're okay? Just let me—" he reached up to check the wound.

"No!" McGee said loudly. He looked up at Palmer and his wide eyes. "I… I have to go."

Jimmy watched as McGee sped off. He looked really upset about something. Palmer stood where he was for a moment, staring to where the agent had disappeared down the stairs, not patient enough to wait for the elevator. People walked around, unaware of what had just happened. He knew something was wrong with McGee, not on the outside, but on the inside. From what Palmer had seen, he had been acting strange all week. Something was bothering him, he just didn't know what.

Somebody suddenly bumped Palmer in the shoulder, dragging him out of his reverie. With a quick "Sorry," they disappeared like a flash. Palmer went to deliver his report to Director Vance. When he was done, he made a call.

"When was the last time you saw, your husband?" Ziva was asking the tear stricken wife of their victim.

Tony's phone suddenly broke through the silence, and they all jumped. Tony quickly looked at the screen. Palmer? He stood up. "Excuse me for a minute." He walked out of the living room, and answered the phone. "This better be good, Palmer," he said in a semi-threatening tone.'

He wasn't phased. "Tony, it's McGee."

"What? Is he—"

"He's fine. Physically. But I think something's bothering him. I'm worried."

Tony sighed. He expected something like this. "Where is he?"

"That's the thing, I don't know. He just ran off."

"Off the base?"

"Yes."

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, man. I'll find him."

AN: Well, there you go. Chapter four. I've been neglecting the story as of late bacause of college and halloween, but I am currently working on chapter six. R&R. Happy Halloween! (Yesterday, where I am, but I think I'll survive. Will you?)