AN: Last night's episode had me scrambling for spoilers, but it turns out everything's pretty much under lock and key. The only thing I could find was in this week's TV Guide…Doesn't give much away, but has me VERY excited. Here's the excerpt which inspired this story:

"If viewers think that's [Gibbs's new rule] the surprise, it's not. They have to watch the last 30 seconds for that moment of 'Oh, my God, they're not going to do that.'"

30 seconds. That's all it takes.

Just 30 seconds.

For one gun to fire. For one bullet to hit. For one life to end.

30 seconds.

. . .

Gibbs rushed up the stairwell, two steps at a time.

Thump, thump, thump. The echo of his feet on the cement resounded in time with his pounding heart. Faster, faster, faster. Farther, farther, farther. Gibbs was reminded of his days in Marine training, being pushed to his limit, always striving for more. Shaking the irrelevant thought from his mind, Gibbs continued his rapid ascent. Focus, he thought. To Tony. Come on, he needs you. Move it, Jethro.

As the top of the never-ending staircase came into view, Gibbs narrowed his eyes, concentrating on the swift motion that would get him exactly where he needed to be. With Tony, Gibbs thought. That's where I need to be. With Tony. With the team. It's where I shoulda been all along. Reflecting briefly on the situation that had brought him to this point, Gibbs cursed himself. It was the same with Maddie…Had to go it alone…Come to think of it, DiNozzo saved my ass on that one, too. Guess it's my turn now.

Propelling his aching body forward, Gibbs threw his weight into the door. The impact sent the weak frame splintering in all directions as the door flew open with a crack.

Gunfire.

That's the first thing that registered in Gibbs's mind as he took in his surroundings.

Grabbing his gun from its ankle holster, he crouched down, ready to open fire on anyone who dared mess with him and his team.

The roof housed dozens of crates and boxes of various sizes. The broad area stretched a few yards at least, but Gibbs couldn't see all the way with the fixtures obscuring his vision.

He ducked his head as more shots erupted in front of him.

Where the hell is Tony? Gibbs thought worriedly. He saw at least two lines of fire, one from the enemy, poised behind a crate, leaning against the ledge of the roof. The man showed no indication that he'd seen Gibbs come onto the scene. At the moment, he was solely focused on reloading his weapon, hands shaking furiously as he prepared to take down his target.

Peering cautiously around the large wooden box to his right, Gibbs spotted a dark figure, crouched carefully between a few medium-sized crates. Tony was primed for attack, weapon drawn expertly in front of him, getting ready to take down the enemy. Catching Gibbs's movement out of the corner of his eye, Tony glanced quickly at his boss, grinning. 'About time,' he mouthed silently. Gibbs smiled inwardly, nodding his approval to the younger agent.

The two shared a brief look, a million words and emotions packed into the single gaze. His own eyes full of pride, Gibbs saw Tony's eyes shine with happiness. Damn, he really does value approval, Gibbs thought to himself. That or he's just grateful I'm here to save-

Gibbs's thought was cut short as a shot rang through the air. The explosive noise sliced through the thinning air like a scalpel, cutting the tension of the moment to ribbons. In that split-second, Gibbs saw Tony's eyes shift from a look of joy to a look of absolute shock. Another loud shot followed, deafening in the utter, deathly silence. But it was not Gibbs's. Tony's weapon, still firmly grasped in his hands, fired a single bullet toward the attacker. As soon as he heard the second shot, Gibbs whipped his gun around to face the enemy. The man who had put him and his family –his only family- through hell in the past days. The man who had just put a hole in Gibbs's senior agent. In his colleague. His friend. His son.

But he was too late. The man whom escalated Gibbs's hatred to a whole new level and put murder back into his eyes…was dead. A single entry wound, center of the forehead, chillingly similar to the death of another person Gibbs knew. The flash of recollection was shoved aside as Gibbs sprinted to his agent's side. The dead were dead. Gone, but not forgotten. Remembered, but not to be dwelled upon. Right now, the living had to be tended to.

Gibbs's heart clenched in his chest as he watched the graceful arc of his agent's body, aimed gently toward the floor of the roof. The shock in Tony's eyes was replaced by wistful detachment and his limp body continued its vengeful descent to the harsh, cold cement.

30 seconds.

It had been only 30 seconds between the time Gibbs had begun climbing the stairs and now.

30 seconds.

A mere half-minute could be the difference between life and death for one agent.

A life hangs in the balance as the world realizes what a difference the half-minute can make.

30 seconds. That's all it takes.

Just 30 seconds.

For one gun to fire.

For one bullet to hit.

For one life to end.

30 seconds.