Fixing McGee's Problem

By Shellie Williams

Disclaimer: The characters and places of NCIS do not belong to me. No money or profit was made from this snippet.

Rating: K+

I guess this is what you'd call an extended epilogue for Jet Lag, so there are slight spoilers for that episode. I decided that McGee's self-imposed "life debt" he owed to Gibbs needed to be further addressed, mainly because of the potential h/c factor.

I

McGee moved cautiously down the hall. He heard Tony open a door behind him. A bat swung suddenly from around the corner, catching McGee across his forearm. Numbing electricity shot up his arm. He dropped his gun, shouting in pain. Before McGee could recover, Compton rushed around the corner, spun him around, and twisted McGee's injured arm behind his back.

Compton pressed his knife against McGee's throat, effectively freezing Tony where he stood.

"Drop the gun, DiNozzo."

Tony's jaw tightened; the only outward sign of his tension. "You drop the knife, Compton."

Compton pressed the blade's edge firmer against McGee's throat. McGee's eyes widened and locked on Tony's.

"I'll cut his throat. You'll have no choice but to stay here and try to save his life. You won't come after me."

Tony shook his head slightly, but kept his gaze and his gun trained on his target. "Wrong-O, Compton. I'll put a bullet between your eyes before you can cut him. And I won't be wasting time trying to save your life. We'll just sit and watch you bleed to death before the ambulance gets here."

Compton's voice wavered. "No! I said put the gun down now!" Abruptly, Compton drew the knife away from McGee's throat.

Believing Compton had surrendered, Tony took a step forward.

The blade swung down, stabbing viscously into McGee's shoulder. McGee cried out and grabbed the injury. Compton pushed him away and twisted around to run. Tony fired a warning shot that splintered the door frame just at Compton's head level. The criminal froze; he lifted his hands into the air.

Pressed against the wall, McGee slid slowly to the floor. Tony hurried to his side. "McGee?"

Eyes squeezed closed, McGee nodded. "I'm – okay. Get Compton."

Pausing just long enough to make sure McGee didn't pass out on him, Tony moved around him and quickly handcuffed Compton. He rushed the man out of the house and into the hands of the waiting authorities, requested an ambulance then quickly returned to McGee.

He knelt beside McGee in the hall and gently reached for his arm. McGee flinched from his touch. "Don't – I think my arm's broken where he hit me with the bat."

Tony sucked in a breath through his teeth. "Ouch. Sorry, Probie."

Eyes still closed, McGee shook his head slowly. "Wasn't your fault. He murdered the Gunny with a bat; I should have been ready for it."

Tony stood and wandered through the kitchen until he found a clean dishtowel. He rejoined McGee and carefully pressed the cloth against McGee's still bleeding wound, holding it there. McGee's hand slid down to land limply in McGee's lap.

"You're being too hard on yourself, McGee. You can't be prepared for everything."

McGee's head rolled against the wall until he faced Tony. "Gibbs is. He's prepared when we go out into the field. He's prepared when a car rushes at him. He was quick enough to push me out of the way."

Tony smiled and patted McGee's back. "That's the boss. He'll bark at us and give us a bad time, but we all know he'd do anything for us. Even get hit by a car."

McGee shook his head. "But I should have been quicker, Tony. He shouldn't have had to push me out of the way." McGee pushed against the wall with his good arm and gathered his feet under him.

"Whoa, there, Probie, where ya goin'?"

With great effort and a painful groan, McGee managed to stand. "I gotta keep going, just like Gibbs would." He swayed and leaned heavily against Tony. "Sorry. Dizzy."

Tony caught him and wrapped his arm around him, somehow keeping the dishtowel in its place on McGee's shoulder at the same time. "This hero worship isn't healthy, McGee. You're not Gibbs. None of us are."

"I -- " McGee's eyes rolled back in his head. He folded slowly against Tony.

Tony braced his back against the wall and eased McGee to the floor. A paramedic arrived. Tony moved gratefully out of the way and allowed the man space to work. Watching, Tony reran the conversation he'd just had with McGee through his head. Blood loss and shock had loosened McGee's tongue, and he'd probably revealed more about his feelings than he would have had he not been in pain. But the insight had shown Tony something about McGee: McGee believed he owed a debt, and the repaying of it was weighing heavy on his soul. He intended to do something about that.