Author Notes: "Bones" by Ms Mr gave me this idea. You can find it on YouTube. Enjoy
McGee remembered that day at the docks 12 years ago.
It had been his first dead body.
First real case.
Well...first case with NCIS.
He had spoken with the senior field agent on the phone hours before the crime scene took place.
Tony was like a god to him back then.
Boy how things could change.
2 years on the job and he was already getting used to it.
4 years and the smell didn't bother him quite as much.
6 years and McGee didn't notice the remains anymore.
He only saw the duffel bag.
Shouldn't that bother him?
Shouldn't the violent deaths and mutilation make him feel something?
He should still be repelled!
'Weak and unfit agent' be damned, Tim would rather have his humanity.
But it didn't.
6 years and McGee could only snap pictures and think about coffee as he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.
He was still traumatized by his first one though.
And he would be deeply, deeply traumatized by his last.
The death of Anthony Dominic DiNozzo.
After so many years working with the clown, Tim let himself believe nothing could ever kill Tony.
Sure, he was perfectly aware that Gibbs and the team might not come back every time they walked out the door.
It happened with Kate.
Agent Paula Cassidy.
Director Shepherd.
His dad.
And so many others.
But he, Tony and Gibbs carried on.
12 years and nothing had happend.
They continued to beat the odds.
Tony was like a cat.
Had 9 lives and unknowingly used every single one of them.
When the gun went off his body reacted before his mind could even catch up with him.
McGee had hands buried in the older man's wound, trying to stifle the bleeding.
It was a lot.
Training told him the bullet nicked a lung.
(Always his lungs...)
Rain began to downpour.
The shooter was dead.
McGee killed them without hesitation.
He had Tony to worry about.
Whose empty green eyes stared up at the cloudy sky.
Tim was crying.
His stone cold agent exterior washing away with the rain.
His gut told him this was it.
NO!
He pressed harder.
Sometimes your gut was wrong!
Tony was his friend he c-couldn't...
He pulled out his phone and dialed 911.
The SFA was choking on his own blood.
Tim furiously worked to keep him alive.
Not backing down, not even for a second.
Minutes ticked on by, Tony was now grey.
His limbs began to stiffen, jaw locking.
McGee now had to push to get Tony to breath.
He could barely see, tears completely taking over.
It was final, rare moments like these where your established shell cracked.
A decade of seeing death and it was like McGee was back to square one.
He sobbed, screaming at his friend to stay awake.
"Tony!"
Weak fingers grabbed at Tim's coat.
Clutching on to reality like a lifeline.
" 'S ok...P-pr..." Tony's back arched, bullet hole oozing more dark red liquid, "Probie," He nodded, voice strained.
" 'S...ok.."
His exhale made Tim panic.
"No no no no no NO NO NO! Tony...you can't die," McGee pleaded.
No answer.
His blinking gradually got slower.
Tim wanted to say something else.
Something more.
Something important.
No words came.
Emotions choked around the young agent's throat, leaving nothing but a squeak.
No poetic goodbyes.
No grand exit.
Just death.
Taking his last best friend and partner.
Oh G#d Gibbs was going to kill him.
And Abby...
McGee crumpled burying his face into Tony's wet clothes.
He wailed.
Wailed for Kate.
For his dad.
For himself.
And Tony DiNozzo.
Who was his idol.
His mentor.
His hero.
His friend.
Death was a rotten bastard and Tony couldn't die.
Please please PLEASE GOD NO! He prayed.
He would do anything.
Tim sat up slowly, hearing sirens scream.
The ambulance was pulling in.
Those haunting, empty eyes stared upwards.
His coughing had ceased about a minute ago.
McGee felt numb.
12 years of experience told him what he already knew.
A corpse vaguely registered at the back of his shock-ridden mind.
Blood now covered half his face.
A dull pain throbbing at the center of weary numbness.
He stared back.
And puked his guts out.
Black & White Poof
Fin.