AN: Happy Holidays!

Tony watched as McGee took a couple of steps to the other side of the suspect. He had to keep his attention. "I believe you are left with the final choice. Come quietly and help us out, or go to prison for a very, very long time. I hear it's nice this time of year."

Another step, but this time the man caught the movement and shouted, taking aim at his partner. Damn it. Tony walked back to where he was before, only just a few feet in front of Tim, but not so in the way that he was in the line of two weapons. This is kind of like Pulp Fiction, Tony thought. I am so Samuel L. Jackson.

"You know it's rude to—" Wait.

Pulp Fiction.

Oh no.

He swallowed. "It's rude to turn the other way when someone's talking to you."

The man nodded his head toward Tim. "Make him put his gun down too."

I'm not completely suicidal, you know. "Can't do that." A shiver ran down Tony's spine and chilled him to the core. "Against the rules; unless you want to put yours down first." Tony knew his voice was about two seconds from breaking from the stress he was currently under.

Tony tried to remember what had happened prior to his death in the vision, but all he could seem to focus on was the ending. 'It was too late. You were dead.' This could not be happening. Even after all the proof that Tony had seen regarding Tim's visions, he had always been able to hold out hope that maybe it wouldn't come true. Like him knowing about it would create some sort of paradox rendering the whole thing an impossibility.

But wishful thinking aside, there had to be something that he could do to prevent his death. Anything at all. 'It was very Pulp Fiction,' he recalled. 'He was aiming at me, but you came and stood in the way.' That's right. Tony was where he was to protect Tim. Any moment now, Gibbs would round a corner and someone would get shot. If Tony wasn't standing exactly where he was, Tim would be his next partner to be lowered into the ground. He was being given the choice of who would live and who would die. Some choice that was; yourself or your best friend. Maybe if he tried a little harder the choice would become irrelevant.

"Come on, man. What do you say you give me the gun and we go have a nice little chat? You won't even be in trouble for running." Tony held out his hand, palm up. "No harm, no foul, right?" Please, God. There has to be some other way, he prayed.

'He just started shooting… but the only one he hit was you.'

Some kind of realization flickered in the suspect's eyes. Maybe he…. 'It was too late.'

A rustle of trash came from behind them. Tony saw the man's eyes shift. He closed his own.

'You were dead.'

A strong arm from behind Tony shoved him hard enough to send him to the ground. Shots were fired, and by the time Tony could turn around, Tim had been hit square in the chest. Hit with the bullet meant for him.

"No!" he yelled as Tim fell, his heart constricting. He scrambled over to his partner. Not this, not again.

Tim wasn't conscious this time and the wound was a lot further inward. "No no no no no," he mumbled.

The sound of footsteps came from behind him and Ziva fell to her knees beside Tim's head. "Ambulance is on the way, Tony." Tim's face was pale and lifeless; blood was spilling out of his mouth at an alarming rate. "Looks like it hit a lung," Ziva said as she checked to see if he was breathing. He wasn't. "There's still a pulse." She started rescue breathing as Tony looked on. It was as if he was frozen. Tim couldn't die, not for him. That wasn't the way it was supposed to work.

More footsteps, and then Gibbs was standing right behind Tony. Tony didn't pay him any attention as he continued to stare at Tim. He could feel other bodies surrounding them as they watched Tim dying. He was raised out of his reverie by Ziva shouting his name. He looked up at her.

"Help me," she said. Her face was drenched in sweat and she was panting hard from struggling to breathe for two people. She attempted to wipe the blood from her mouth, but only succeeded in smearing it across her cheek and into her hair. Tony made quick work of taking off his jacket and trying to stem the flow of blood from the wound. Ziva tilted Tim's head to the side to drain the blood that had filled up his mouth and continued on.

She checked his pulse again as they heard the sirens from far away. He wished they could drive faster; no matter what they did, Tim didn't seem to be getting better. Though, based on where he was shot, this was probably all that they could do for him here. Ziva had to drain the blood from Tim's mouth multiple times; the bleeding didn't seem to be stopping. As they waited for the medics to appear, Tony and Ziva had developed a routine to try and keep Tim alive. Breathe, check pulse, breathe, check pulse, 'Tony, push harder.'

Finally, the ambulance had wound its way through the maze of alleys, led by three officers, two of which were the ones who had attempted to follow them to apprehend the suspects what felt like days ago.

It didn't take long for the paramedics to get and I.V. started, tape on the air mask and whisk Tim away and into the ambulance. Gibbs pushed Tony in after him, before they could close the doors and soon they were flying through the streets to Norfolk General. Tony could do nothing but watch as they packed and did the equivalent of put a Band-Aid on Tim's wound. The only real help he could get would be from surgery.

Tony stared at Tim's face for most of the time. Bright red blood covered most of it. Tony found a box of cleansing wipes on the wall of the vehicle and tried to get the thick liquid to come off. As he focused on his task, completely ignoring what else the medic was doing for his own sanity, he though back to the good times he had had with his friend. He could still remember the first time he had met Tim. It took Tony three tries to remember his name.

'What was your name again?'

'Timothy McGee, sir.'

'Right,' Tony said, looking around the cramped office that the man was held up in. 'I'm gonna call you McNeat.'

'Sir?'

'Cause you're so tidy.' Tony gestured to the room at large. He pointed to the computer screens on the impossibly small desk, going to sit cross-legged on the one in front of the window. 'You any good at those.'

McGee gave a half-modest smile. 'Well. Yeah.'

It was a mere ten minutes before he was bragging about his multiple degrees. But what Tony remembered the most was the question he had asked next.

'What did you want to be when you grew up?'

He shrugged, as if it were obvious. 'This.'

And, of course, he had quite the appetite for revenge.

"Hi, there! I'm Beary Smiles! You're my best friend, McGee!" came a heartless, computerized voice from McGee's computer.

"Thank you, Beary," said McGee in an antagonizing voice, directed at Tony.

"You're very welcome!"

McGee had been at it for a while, as soon as he figured out how to input the words. Tony couldn't take it anymore. "All right, one more time and I'm going to rip that Bear's head off... AGAIN!"

"Gear up, DiNozzo! Got a body at Quantico!"

"Don't mess with me!" Tony pointed angrily at the bear.

"That bear sounds very familiar," Ziva said, smiling.

"Ya think, David? DiNozzo, bag and tag! David, witness statements! McGee, I ever tell you how brilliant you are?"

McGee looked down at the bear affectionately, much to Tony's distaste. "Oh, Beary..."

"I love you, McGee!" Tony smiled evilly and Ziva widened her eyes and faced her computer.

McGee looked at them and then turned around, with a terrified look. He typed on his keyboard again, with an embarrassed smile.

"Sorry, Boss!"

But, could he blame him really.

McGee woke suddenly, to find Ziva and Tony standing in front of his desk. "I wasn't sleeping."

"We didn't say anything, McGee,"

He looked at them suspiciously, then around his desk. "But you did something, didn't you? What'd you do? Did you try and put my hand in this water?"

Tony attempted to look offended. "That would be a little juvenile."

His eyes widened suddenly and he said, "You drew on my face, didn't you? You drew on my face…" he picked up a cd from his desk and studied his reflection in it.

"No, I actually suggested stripping you naked, putting a tag on your toe and dragging you down to autopsy, so when you woke up you'd think you were dead, but Ziva though it was in poor taste,"

"Thank you, Ziva," he said genially. She nodded.

"I did not agree. Personally, I think there would be a lot of people who'd like to see you naked,"

And a strangely badly-timed sense of humor.

"A dead transsexual sailor, his spook instructor and a pair of human eyes walk into a bar, what's the punch line Kate?"

Whatever it is, it involves this girl and Paraguay."

Tony nodded. "That's true, but not very funny. Probie! Make me laugh!"

"Okay," he sat a little straighter." The bartender doesn't believe it so he asks the spook instructor 'what the hell is going on?' And the guy says 'what, guy can't have a drink with his pupils?'"

McGee had a way of growing on you, pretty much whether you liked it or not.

"Tim McGee: Small muscles, big brains, heart of a lion."

"Remember that urge you were talking about? I went with 'mom'"

"You're such an easy mark."
"You're such a child."

"This is different, I'm dying McGee."
"You know, the last time you were dying of a horrible disease, you were a little more stoic about the whole thing."

"I know what you're doing."
"I know what you're doing."
"What am I doing?"
"I don't know."

"That is a pretty sophisticated grammatical differentiation."
"Don't change the subject with your big words, McNerd."

"I'm telling you, man, this time I'm dying."
"Okay… but… until you are actually dead, can you please help me fix this thing."

"It takes less than a tenth of a second for the engine of an F-18 to drag a Barkalounger three-hundred feet."

"So pirates that weren't really pirates, but were actually Russian sailors, were on a covert mission to steal a Navy research ship that wasn't actually a Navy research ship in order to get back nuclear weapons that we though they didn't think we had retrieved."
"Yep."

"I've got to ask. Did you order a dead body?"

"Let's flip for it."
"If I flip you, you will get hurt."

"I've been thinking about buying some tight red leather pants, something that really cradles my butt."

"This is breaking and entering."
"No, this is breaking and this is entering."

"Special Agents Tim McGee and Tony DiNozzo."
"Very Special Agents."

"Results come back already?"
"I'm pregnant. McGee's gonna be so proud."

"Why didn't you tell him that that was my idea?"
"Tony, a very wise man once told me, 'There is no I in Team.'"

"Me and McGee watched the sunrise together. It was very Brokeback Mountain."
"He had me at 'Howdy'"

Suddenly, Tony was jerked out of his reverie as the heart monitor machine started going off, right as they pulled up in front of the hospital.

"Mike, get back here."

The ambulance stopped abruptly and the back doors were pulled open to bright sunlight. They quickly extracted Tim, taking him to the waiting medical personnel at the open Emergency Room doors.

Tony watched, silently as the doors closed, not quite capable of moving. He let the bloodied rags fall to the floor and placed his head in his hands. This wasn't how this was supposed to happen. Why couldn't Tim just let it be?

The next thing that Tony remembered was the female paramedic coming back outside to find Tony still sitting in the back of the ambulance, staring at the spot that his partner had vacated. A void in space, just like the void in his soul.

She put a hand on his shoulder and said softly, "Come on, babe. Let's get you inside."

He looked up at her, but didn't move. "I guess he's in surgery?"

She nodded, giving a quick worried glance to her partner, who was standing on the ground outside. Tony looked back down. "Why'd he have to do it? It was supposed to be me."

"What did he do?" she asked.

"He took my bullet," he mumbled, but he knew that she could hear him. "It was meant for me. It always was."

The medic sighed and took a hold of his arm, leading him out of the vehicle. Mike offered his hand and helped him to the ground. The took him to the O.R. waiting room, told the nurses that he was to be told immediately if anything happened and sat him on one of the more comfortable looking couches. The woman, who her partner had referred to as Grace, knelt down in front of him.

She spoke clearly, "Your partner, in there, he's a hero. Don't belittle his sacrifice by shutting yourself off. He has absolutely no chance of making it through this if you can't be there for him."

She stood abruptly and left with her own partner, one she herself would probably give her life to save, and left him to his thoughts.

AN: Let's pretend that reviews are Christmas presents, and spread the joy around. I'd love to hear your thoughts about how you think the story is progressing!