Chapter 6 – The last post (sorry about the bad pun)

The agonising pain in McGee's stomach restricted his gait to short, faltering steps but he was getting out of this hospital if he had to crawl on his hands and knees. Tony and Ziva had been nice enough to gather his clothes from the river bank and dump them in the back of the ambulance with him so at least he was decently clothed, if a little muddy. By the time he reached the waiting area, he was gasping and shaking with exertion. Falling onto a chair, he clawed the cell phone from his pocket to call a cab.

A familiar figure strode past, screeched to a halt and walked backwards towards him, reverse-beeping as he did.

"You were too fast for me, McGee," said Tony breathlessly.

"That's a little hard to believe," McGee panted back.

Tony dumped himself next to McGee. "No sneaking out to the party – I gave the hospital explicit instructions to ring me the moment you were released."

"But."

"No buts," Tony halted him in his tracks. "I'm taking you home, we're getting some party clothes and we're going together."

"You're not exactly my idea of a date, Tony."

Tony eyed him evilly. "Don't make me whack you McGurgle."

Free food had a way of encouraging attendance at farewell gatherings and tonight was no exception. Initially, the tables and chairs had been pressed against the walls of the training room but most people, sensing they were in for a long haul, had sensibly arranged the chairs into communal circles and were now in the process of conversing with the people they saw everyday but never bothered to acknowledge.

Tony spotted Abby, not a difficult task given her mourning outfit, and dragged a chair from the wall to place beside her.

"Sit Probie," he commanded.

McGee put up no resistance which was possibly related to the fact that his skin had begun to take on a charming old world grey hue again. Once McGee was settled and Abby was fawning over him appropriately, Tony's eyes sought and found Gibbs pacing in the corner of the room like a trapped rat.

"Just need to talk to the boss," he mumbled.

"The Director managed to convince you then?" Tony greeted Gibbs.

"It was a near thing." Gibbs admitted, clearly uncomfortable in his suroundings. "How did you get on?"

"Lost him."

"Damn."

"He'll keep."

"Keep? I thought you'd be out there right now."

"And miss this?"

Even Gibbs' sternest look could not dislodge Tony's grin.

A hand landed on Tony's right shoulder and grasped it tightly. "We need to talk," the Director muttered.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Director Jenny Shepard announced from the head of the room.

The chatter of voices dimmed to a smattering of conversations.

"It is time to farewell a few familiar faces before they disappear of their own accord." The pointed stare was directed squarely at Gibbs who was edging towards the door.

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs has been a member of NCIS since…."

By the time the parting gift was presented, many of the audience had forgotten why they were there.

"Would you like to make a speech Agent Gibbs?"

Gibbs turned to the sea of expectant faces, so familiar after all these years and said: "Nope."

The applause was tumultuous; they knew they would not escape so lightly when the next recipient was called on.

"Doctor Donald 'Ducky' Mallard has been with NCIS since…"

"McGee," Abby whispered urgently. "You're missing the good bit. Besides, you're snoring."

McGee was surprised to find himself encased in a warm, deep sleep, hardly able to resurface. Abby's shoulder was surprisingly comfortable. He was unsure if the exhaustion was due to his recent near drowning or the fact that he'd never swum so far in his life.

"McGee!"

Harsh reality Gibbs slapped him and suddenly Abby's shoulder was jarringly angular.

"What?" It sounded so much more coherent inside his head than flopping out of his mouth.

"She's announcing the new placements; you're going to find out where you're going."

He took a sharp breath and flung his eyes open. The world stared back at 90 degrees to its usual vista. He hoisted his head up painfully just in time to hear the Director say, "…will be replaced by Dr Jimmy Palmer and Sarah Yeardon's team will be getting new head – Special Agent Timothy McGee."

McGee blinked and replayed the message in his head one more time. People were clapping and looking at him, some and Abby was shrieking something and shaking him. He had never felt so shell shocked in his life. Then suddenly Abby grabbed his face with both hands and planted her lips on his. And to think, only a moment ago, he didn't think he could be any more stunned.

Tony exchanged a laugh with Ziva, standing close by his side: no matter what happened, they could always count on Abby to shock McGee to a standstill. They'd had some time to talk together on the drive back to headquarters and Ziva's perspective had been instrumental in forming his final decision. They had promised to keep in touch – and he never broke a promise. Ziva smiled at him, raised her glass in a silent salute and drank.

"Special Agent Tony DiNozzo," the Director continued, "has accepted an undercover position on operation Petite Poisson."

Beside Tony, a stream of liquid shot from Ziva's mouth.

Tony frowned, he'd never actually bothered to ask the name of the op: it didn't sound good. "Little poison?"

"Poisson not poison: little fish," the Director corrected. "Colloquially: Operation Guppy. We hope he and Mossad Officer David can continue their fine operational relationship."

--END--