Thanatopsis

Chapter Six

McGee woke up to find himself in a strange bed. He sat up quickly and looked around. It was nearly dark outside; only a few streams of daylight made their way through the open blinds, and the lights were off, making it harder to see. He sat up and squinted at the blankets covering his body. They were thick and warm. He felt very comfortable.

How did he get here? he thought. He pulled the blankets off and put his bare feet on the carpeted floor. And then it came back to him. The crash. Dianne. Everything after that was a little fuzzy, but he distinctly remembered a familiar presence. Wait….

He looked closer at the room he was in. Slightly disheveled, clothes and DVDs on the dresser and nightstand. And at the foot of the bed, mounted on the wall, a 50' plasma screen TV. He knew where he was. "Tony," he called out. He could hear the television playing quietly through the open door. It was quickly overrun by loud footsteps coming down the hallway.

Tony came through the door and turned the light on, causing McGee to shield his eyes. "Well finally, you're awake. I was about to come get you. Pizza's on the way."

McGee stood up. He was starving after all, and he was pretty sure he hadn't eaten breakfast this morning. He looked down at himself. He was also pretty sure he wasn't wearing sweats this morning either. "Tony?" he said, stopping him as he was about to walk back out the door. "Did you change my clothes?" He pulled at the gray sweatshirt with a big NCIS emblem imprinted on the front.

Tony grinned. "Don't worry, Probie. I preserved your innocence." He went back to the living room.

McGee couldn't help but laugh as he followed. He went and sat down on the couch and glanced at what was playing on the TV. Hugh Jackman, Haley Barry. It looked so familiar. "You're not still taking those painkillers, are you?" Tony said as he rummaged around in the kitchen.

"No, not since I got out of the hospital."

Tony walked in and caught him giving the movie and confused frown. "Oh, please don't tell me you've never seen Swordfish." He handed McGee a beer and sat down next to him.

That sounded right. "It looks familiar."

"Yeah that's what I thought. You want to start it over?"

"No, that's okay." McGee smiled and sat back, taking a sip of beer. After everything that had happened, this felt good. He was more rested than he had been in days. The only problem he was having was remembering how he had gotten to this point. And into Tony's bed.

"So what—"

A knock sounded at the door.

Tony held up a finger. "Hold that thought." He patted McGee on the knee and stood up.

The movie lasted another hour. Apparently he had seen it before, a long time ago. They talked and laughed as they ate and drank. The perfect guys night, and exactly what McGee needed. The credits were rolling when he McGee finally got back to what he was going to ask.

"So how did I get here again?" he asked, setting down his third beer on the coffee table amidst the mess of discarded pizza crusts and more empty bottles.

Tony took one last drink before answering. Then he looked at McGee. "You don't remember?"

McGee thought back. "I remember leaving NCIS, driving. You were calling me. I didn't want to talk." He closed his eyes, trying to focus on the memories. "The second time you called, I looked up just in time to not crash into the back of the car I was following. And then…"

He looked at Tony. Was he sure he wanted to go through this again?

Tony put his hand on McGee's shoulder. "Whatever it is, you can tell me."

Suppose this goes along with the other crazy thing I told him. "The girl. When I got there she was practically dead, clinging to life. She managed to get a few words out before she– passed." He took a steadying breath. Tony squeezed his shoulder. "She said to tell her mom she was sorry, and that she loved her."

"Man, I'm sorry."

"That's not all, Tony." Tony narrowed his eyes. McGee had to work up the courage to get the next part out. "I think something happened to me when I was shot that day."

"McGee…"

"Tony, just listen. I'm not doped up on morphine this time. I'm completely lucid." He managed not to break eye contact. "I think my brush with death gave me a kind of insight. Something most people don't get."

"Clearly you've been thinking about this."

"Well, only a little. My mind was just trying to figure out what I had seen and it came up with the most logical explanation." He shifted in his seat. "Quite honestly, I hadn't put that much thought into it. Until today." He continued to stare into Tony's eyes. Tony seemed to have forgotten the beer he still held his beer or the fact that his hand had moved up to McGee's neck and stayed there. McGee felt better knowing that Tony really cared what he had to say.

"Her name was Dianne. She told me that."

"But I thought she only said sorry."

"She did. But that was before she died."

Tony clearly wasn't getting it. So McGee gave it to him straight up. "I saw her ghost, Tony. Or, whatever she was." Yet again, Tony was looking at him like he had lost his mind. McGee calmly explained, "Something happened to me when I was shot. Believe me, I know how this sounds."

"If you say 'I see dead people,' I'm going to have a stroke."

That caught McGee off guard. He started laughing, almost hysterically. Tony smiled as well. McGee didn't make it very long, his injured chest wasn't exactly in good shape. Well this was definitely easier the second time around. "So you believe me?"

"This feels awful familiar." Tony said, giving a slight chuckle.

"What do you mean?" McGee asked.

"Me sitting at your bedside—"

"But we're on a couch."

"—listening to you tell me you saw something… impossible."

"I know it seems impossible, Tony, but that doesn't mean it didn't happen."

Tony sighed and looked at McGee as if he was trying to figure something out. "You know, I've been thinking about all of this. I didn't know whether to believe you or not. But then I realized…. If I had told you the same thing you told me, no matter how crazy it sounded, you would have believed me in an instant. That's just the way that you are."

"I think you're giving me a little more credit than I deserve." McGee began to object, but was cut off.

"I don't think so." Tony sighed. "I don't know if you're crazy, or if the most unbelievable thing actually did happen, but you wouldn't have told me unless you thought it was real." He patted McGee on the back and sat back against the back of his couch. "Yeah, I believe you. If you've lost your mind, then I don't think there's any hope for the rest of us. Might as well jump on the crazy train."

McGee sat back as well; he couldn't keep the smile off his face. The rest of the night was spent watching a few more movies and getting just a little too tipsy.

"So, Ducky, what do you say?" McGee asked as he pulled on his shirt in the cold autopsy suite.

"Well, my boy, you're all healed up." Ducky picked up the return to duty form from the autopsy table and looked thoughtfully at McGee. He tapped the clipboard against McGee's chest. "You must promise me that you will not get shot again. Ever."

McGee grinned. "Believe me, I'm gonna try as hard as I can."

Ducky glared at him longer than he would have liked, and McGee gave him a pleading look in return. Ducky squinted his eyes one last time, then stepped away and signed the form.

McGee was smiling from ear to ear as he took the paper out of Ducky's hand.

"Good luck," Ducky said halfheartedly as McGee turned to leave.

McGee took a few steps and then stopped and turned around. Something sounded off. "Duck, you okay?" McGee asked, ignoring the doors as they slid open to let him leave.

Ducky glanced back at McGee from his desk. "What do you mean?"

"You sound…. You just don't sound like yourself." He thought about it. He couldn't believe he hadn't read more into it before. "And you haven't been around as much lately. Is something going on?"

Ducky hid it well, but Tim could see something in his eyes that gave it away. He seemed… distant, detached. Now that he thought about it, McGee hadn't heard a story in days. As far as he could tell, considering McGee hadn't been to a crime scene in three weeks, Gibbs hadn't had to tell him to get to the point in quite a while. It wasn't Gibbs' fault, the caseload had been rough for quite a while.

Ducky, at first, looked like he was going to deny everything, but then appeared to change his mind. He sat down in his chair, looking older than McGee had ever seen him. He took a deep breath. "A friend of mine, Daniel,... he's been sick for a while. Cancer. But these past few weeks, he's gotten worse."

"I'm sorry."

"It is not your job to apologize, lad." Ducky looked down. "It's nobody's job," he said dejectedly. Then he sat up straight. "Do not worry about it, Timothy. You are too young to be worrying about an old man's woes."

"That's not true, Ducky. You're a friend; a good friend." McGee put his hand on Ducky's shoulder. "If you ever need anything, just ask."

AN: Working on chapter eight. Read and Review. Please:)