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A/N: I got a lot of response for The Score, and it seems that people wanted a little vengeance. Here it is. Tell me what you think. Sheila

The Score- Revenge Edition

He leaned over the bar. "Do you know how to make a good chocolate raspberry martini?"

The bartender gave him a hard look and Jimmy Palmer stuttered. "I'm not saying that you don't make good martinis. I was just wondering…I mean, it doesn't have to be chocolate raspberry…maybe a chocolate mint martini. How does that sound? Or…do you just know chocolate? No judgment."

The bartender just glared at him as he wiped the same glass over and over. Ducky patted Jimmy's arm. "Know your audience, my dear boy- the key to effective communication." He nodded at the bartender. "Two black and tans, please."

Jimmy frowned. "Black and tan?"

Ducky patted him on the shoulder. "Tonight, I'll educate you on what a man drinks."

The amber beers with dark tops arrived and Jimmy eyed them suspiciously. "When is Agent Gibbs getting here?"

"Soon enough, my boy. Let's enjoy our beers and watch those lovely ladies playing pool."

…..

Abby chalked her cue and glared at the men at the next table. "Those are the ones, aren't they? They stripped my poor Timmy and sent him out into the night."

"Yes, they are," Ziva said as she lined up a shot. "Now, quit staring knives at them."

"Daggers, Ziva. You stare daggers." Abby adjusted her low cut tank and positioned herself so that when she bent over, her short shirt rode up. She looked at Ziva. "Are they watching me?"

"How could they not?"

Abby smirked as she gave her tush a wiggle. "I'm going to torture them all night long."

"Shhh! One of them is coming over."

A tall Marine with blue eyes and a blonde crew sauntered up. "Hey girls! You're looking mighty fine tonight. My name is Cole."

Ziva tossed her thick hair. "Abby, why are we here tonight?"

"To support a friend."

"So…no time for slumming?"

"Not even a minute."

Ziva cocked her head. "Sorry sailor, we've got no time for you."

"First off, I'm not a sailor. I am a Marine. Second, you girls are getting a little long in the tooth to be so picky."

"What does that mean? Long teeth! My teeth are not long!" Ziva started at him, but got intercepted by Abby who grabbed her around the waist.

"You bitches are crazy!"

Her arms firmly holding Ziva, Abby turned. "You have no idea, soldier. I suggest you back away."

The man frowned but walked away. Ziva looked at Abby. "What is his problem with my teeth?"

"Idiom, Ziva. He's saying we're old."

"What?! I'll show him what old looks like!" Ziva struggled out of her arms, but Abby held strong.

"Come on now. This is McGee's fight. Remember what Gibbs said. We're here on his six."

Ziva finally relaxed in Abby's arms. "If we did this my way, they'd be lying in a ditch somewhere trying to remember their names."

"I made voodoo dolls. Very satisfying. You can come down and poke them any time, if you like."

Ziva rolled her eyes. "Yes, that will relieve things greatly."

Abby pointed at the door to the bar and smiled. "Look who's here.

…..

McGee hesitated at the door. Tony came up behind him. "Tim?"

He blinked and took a deep breath. "I got this."

Tony looked at Gibbs and nodded. The two of them followed McGee in.

"Hey you! Get over here!"

McGee turned and saw the bartender gesturing at him angrily. The burly man leaned over the bar and pointed a finger. "Listen up! We're not going to have any more of the trouble you caused last week. I got complaints from the neighbors. So I am not serving your ass. Best course of action is for you to turn around and leave."

McGee ignored him and studied the tap selection. "I'll take a beer. I think I'll have a Newcastle."

"Did you not hear me, stupid?"

Tony started at the man but Gibbs caught his arm and shook his head. He sidled up next to Tim. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation, and I got to say I'm pretty shocked. I mean, McGee, in the ten years I've known you, I've never seen you enjoy a beer. You're a wine guy."

McGee looked at him.

Gibbs gave an imperceptible nod. "We talked about this. There is no need to compromise even one little bit of who you are."

He nodded. "Okay. Barkeep, actually I'd like a Chardonnay or a Pinot Grigio."

The man shook his head. "You must be stone deaf."

Gibbs turned his icy blue eyes on the bartender. "I bet you remember me and the movie star behind me from last week. We came in just after you allowed bar patrons to auction off and steal my agent's clothes. You remember this guy. You over served him alcohol for hours."

"He didn't buy anything from me so I am not responsible for drinks others bought for him."

Gibbs reached in his jacket and pulled out his badge, sliding it toward him. "I spent some time on the phone with this bar's owner today. He tells me you've been treating it like your personal clubhouse for some time now. He does the books and the missing alcohol does not match up with the receipts. From what I could tell, he's just looking for an excuse, but I told him that I was certain you were going to make things right for us tonight."

The bartender stared at him quietly for a long moment and then he mumbled. "What can I get you guys?"

"I already told you what I wanted," McGee said.

"Yeah, but he doesn't want your house white. He wants the expensive stuff. The movie star here and I will each have two fingers of your best bourbon."

"You starting a tab?"

Gibbs gave him another look. "Tonight, it's on you. Owner's going to pull it from your paycheck."

The man froze and, for a moment, it looked like he was going to protest, but then he slowly reached for the bourbon on the top shelf.

Tony grinned and muttered, "Movie star," under his breath.

Ducky and Jimmy raised their glasses to them from the other end of the bar.

…..

McGee took his wine glass, and, for a moment, he wondered if there was a masculine way to carry a stemmed glass, but he remembered what Gibbs said and he gripped it like he always did. He wanted to be completely unaffected, but his entire week has been flooded with flashbacks of that night. What he couldn't remember, he could imagine and it was horrifying.

It had been an assault on his dignity like nothing he'd ever experienced before. This bar was close to Quantico, and it was supported largely by a local crowd. He suspected that at least half of the patrons currently there had been there to witness his humiliation a week ago. The team had spent a large part of the week reminding him of who he was, but it was still impossible to meet eyes with anyone in the room.

The thing that sustained him most was that he was a member of team Gibbs, and he never seen anyone from that team ever back down from a fight, and he wasn't about to be the first. He didn't wait for assurance from Gibbs. This was his mountain to climb. He shook his head, straightened his shoulders, and walked up to the Marines who'd gotten him drunk and stripped him just a week earlier.

One of the guys looked his direction and his eyes widened. "You have got to be shittin' me. Look who's here, guys."

They all turned to look at McGee. "Oh my God! I never imagined. McGee, you are a glutton for punishment."

Another one laughed. "Hell, I think he must've liked it. McGee, I got no judgments but you might want to think about cruising the gay bars closer to D.C."

They all roared with laughter. McGee waited 'til they quieted down. "You guys got the best of me last week, but I'm back. I want another chance."

The one named Cole shook his head. "No way, McGee."

McGee chewed his lower lip. "We got a score to settle, and I'm not leaving until that happens."

"Come on, man. It happened and it's over. Now, you're making a fool of yourself in front of a lot of people."

Sweat beaded on his forehead as he looked around at the crowd that had gathered. He focused all of his attention on Cole. "We're playing again."

"Now, I'm getting mad. My buddies and I aren't bothering you so you need to back off before somebody gets hurt."

"I'm not leaving." McGee centered himself on the stubborn Irish pride his father had taught him. "You jerks are going to play darts with me and that's final."

A bulkier Marine behind Cole stepped forward. "You're asking for a beat down, you little worm."

Before McGee could respond, Tony was there, extending his hand. "Hey guys! Good to meet you. My name is very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo."

The men warily shook his hand before Tony stepped back. "You know, I hate to interrupt, but I want to explain something about my partner, McGee, here. He is brilliant at a million things, easily more than all of you put together, but when it comes to trash talk, his skills are abysmal. I mean, we've waited all week for a chance to watch him bury you, but this is all going down with none of the flair that the situation deserves. I mean, we plan to make this evening memorable so I am officially taking over the character assassinations for the evening. That okay with you, Tim?"

"Nobody does it better than you, Tony."

Tony slapped him on the back and turned to Cole. "Listen up, Pinhead. You and your donkeys here are playing some darts tonight. My man here is going to wipe the floor with you, and we're here to watch every moment of it."

The largest Marine stabbed a finger at DiNozzo. "You and I are going to take it outside."

Tony grinned at him. "My pleasure, Sasquatch, but before you and I dance, my buddy here has a game to play."

The man started toward Tony, but Cole put out an arm to stop him. "Seriously, McGee. You really want to drop your pants two weeks in a row. Here we were, trying to be decent with you. Spare you more humiliation."

Tony put a hand on his shoulder. "Look at me, McGee. We talked about this earlier. Remember? Being a Marine does not necessarily make a man out of you. It should but there are individuals, like the clown posse here, that are deeply insecure. They couldn't handle your superiority at the range. They brought you here and got you drunk before they challenged you to a game because they were worried that you would spank them twice in one day. It's a sad commentary on today's military."

The big Marine launched himself at Tony, but he never got there. Ziva came out of nowhere, kneed him in the groin, and landed on his back. She had him cuffed before he even thought to struggle. Another member of Cole's group started to approach, but she flashed a badge.

McGee looked at Cole. "I don't mind beating just three of you."

Cole shook his head. "This is getting out of hand, McGee."

"One game. All or nothing. I win and all of you drop your pants. You win and I'll do it willingly. No coercion. I'm as sober as a judge."

Cole looked around the room. All eyes were on them. He nodded. "I felt bad after last week but not anymore. You want to come to us like a punk, that's fine. We can treat you like a punk. The only problem is that I don't play darts with punks. I think we oughta' take this outside."

Up until then, Gibbs was nothing but a guy leaning against a wall, but when he approached, he didn't stop until he was inches from Cole's face. Cole made a face. "Who are you, old man?"

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

A funny look crossed Cole's face. He looked back at his friends and then turned back to Gibbs. "The Marine sniper?"

"Just like you."

"What are you doing here, Gibbs?"

"McGee is one of mine."

Cole's face reddened and he turned to McGee. "You never said a damn word."

McGee shrugged. "After what happened at the firing range last week, it seemed like it might be a sore subject."

Cole shook his head. "Listen Gunny, if we would've had any idea, none of this would've happened."

One corner of his mouth turned up. "So it would've been okay to treat someone like that if my name wasn't involved."

"Listen man, we had no idea. McGee, on behalf of my friends, I want to formally apologize to you for what happened. We really screwed up here."

There wasn't a sound to be heard in the crowded room. McGee nodded slowly. "I appreciate the apology, but we still have a game to play."

Cole shook his head. "McGee, you don't want to do this. We played darts every night in the 'Stan. We can't be beat."

McGee's face was like granite. "I'll let you guys throw first."

"You're a fool, McGee," Cole said before turning to his friends. "Looks like we're playing a game."

The crowd exploded in noise as everyone pushed closer to watch. Jimmy stood on his stool. "Dr. Mallard and I are taking bets on McGee to win- 2-1."

People rushed him, and Jimmy disappeared in the crowd. Tony started massaging McGee's shoulders. "Stay loose, McDarts. Stay loose."

Abby threw her arms around his neck and buried her face in his neck. "You can do it, Timmy."

Ziva uncuffed the large one after extracting promises of civility and he joined his crew. The four Marines lined up amid cheers and jeers. They each threw, darts all landed outside the bullseye.

McGee caught Gibbs' eye for a moment in the chaos. The old Marine smiled and McGee bit his lip. He turned to the board and concentrated. Tony shushed the crowd. He narrowed his eyes and threw. Bullseye. Everyone cheered.

As the game progressed, the Marines loosened up and started hitting the target consistently. McGee never wavered. He seemed to see nothing in the room but the dartboard. Tony had absorbed all of the tension in the room, and bounced around like a mosquito- talking a million a minute while wiping McGee's brow and rubbing his arms. Ziva finally had to come over and drag him away. None of it mattered. McGee consistently hit the center of the dartboard. As game went on, more and more of the crowd was cheering for McGee.

Game point was no different than any other. McGee narrowed his eyes, focused on the target, and let it fly. He beat his nearest competitor by two points. Everyone cheered. Tony picked up Ziva and whirled her around. Abby tackled him hard, and they would've landed on the ground if Gibbs wasn't there to them. She planted a red kiss on his cheek. Jimmy ran around the room collecting bets. Then he helped Ducky up onto a table where he loudly announced that the proceeds would be donated to the equipment fund at a local elementary school.

The noise finally subsided, and Tony turned his attention to the Marines. He started humming some old time stripper music, and the tune was picked up by the audience. McGee look on in silence as the men slowly pulled off their shirts and dropped their pants. The men reluctantly started to shed their boxers when McGee put up a hand. "Stop!"

Cole looked up at him. "Come on, McGee. We just want to get this over with."

McGee looked at Gibbs. "What we talked about."

He nodded and approached Cole. "We're going to give you a choice. You drop your shorts or you accompany us back to the firing range."

Cole frowned. "The range is closed."

"I talked to Woody and called in a favor. He's keeping it open for us tonight."

"What happens there?"

"Your problem, Cole, is that you think what happened at the range was a fluke. I got some news for you. McGee's scores have been steadily improving for ten years. His yearly average beats every one of you. You want to know how he does it?"

"Yeah."

"He's always open to learning. No matter how good he gets, he recognizes he can still learn more. He goes in every time without a single ounce of arrogance. The truth is that before this week, he'd probably only played darts a half dozen times. But we took this last week, and he focused on the game. Shot darts for hours every night. He paid attention and listened to everything I said."

Cole nodded. "Okay, what happens at the range?"

"McGee schools you. You agree to a lesson on precision shooting from him."

Cole's mouth fell open. "You're kidding?"

"Nope. Your choice. You come to the range and get schooled or you drop your shorts now and show off your one-eyed monsters."

McGee winced. "Please choose wisely here. I'm personally not interested in having any more nightmares."

Cole looked at his boys. The big one shook his head. "Come on, man. I don't want to get laughed at. Besides, maybe we could learn something."

Cole sighed. "Alright, McGee. You win. Put your clothes on, guys."

The crowd booed. Tony put his hands up. "Hey folks, I didn't realize you needed a show so badly. If you want, I could strip down."

Someone in the crowd threw a bottle of ketchup at him. Tony ducked. "Okay! It's cool. I was just checking."

Cole and his guys dressed and grabbed their coats. "Meet you at the range, McGee."

Gibbs put a hand on McGee's shoulder. "How does it feel, Tim?"

He smiled. "It feels pretty damn good, Boss."

…

The End