You didn't really expect me to keep it serious forever, did you?

Chapter 6

"C'mon, McGee," Tony called impatiently, standing outside McGee's apartment door, fidgeting with Gibbs' safe-house envelope.

Hobbling painfully down the corridor, McGee glowered at Tony. Less than 24 hours before he had been lying in a ditch contemplating imminent death. Since then he had endured a blood transfusion, some doctor in enormous gum boots digging out pieces of metal from his leg while listing to children's CDs ('catchy, aren't they?'), a few hours of 'sleep' on a 1 foot wide, 1 inch thick, 5 ft long gym-mattress of a hospital bed and now he was expected to break the overland speed record on one leg.

He staggered to a halt at his front door. "Look, Tony," he began, low and dangerous, "I've had a bad day, I hurt and I'm going as fast as I can. Lay off me or I'll stick this crutch where it will do the most damage."

Tony was taken aback at McGee's tone. Reigning in the excitement of the past day and the thrill of the promised safe house lodgings, he took a moment to examine the wilted man in front of him. He looked dead on his feet and yet he had uttered not one word of complaint. Tony's shoulders sagged a little. "Hey, I'm sorry, man. I guess I've been a little, over-stimulated."

McGee's expression indicated his agreement. He pushed past Tony and inserted the key in his lock.

"Let me get that for you," Tony offered.

Tucking the treasured envelope under one arm, he overtook McGee and held the door open. "Just take it easy, go as slow as you like. Tell you what, why don't you just lie down and I'll..."

Suddenly he tackled McGee to the ground, riding him like a toboggan into the kitchen as they slid across the wooden floor. The crutch, wrenched from its owner, became wedged in the front door, jamming it open. A bullet chipped a splinter from the door frame.

"Tony!" McGee gasped before a hand was slapped over his mouth.

"Told you he wasn't dead," said a voice in McGee's apartment.

Lying on the floor over by the door, the cell in the envelope began to ring then fell silent.

Tony slid carefully off McGee and crept to the kitchen counter, raising his gun slowly. McGee slithered commando style across the floor to the corner cupboards and balanced himself on his good leg with his gun prepped, bracing his back against the corner to keep his balance.

Tony popped his head above the counter and ducked as a shot whistled past. It was risky but worth it: his brief reconnaissance had revealed two men standing behind the bookshelves that served as a room divider in McGee's apartment. He signalled silently to McGee with his fingers: two people and their directions in the room.

McGee nodded and steeled himself for action.

Tony counted them in: one, two…

Both agents exposed themselves simultaneously and fired in the direction of the bookcase. Answering shots fired back and ricocheted around the room. Then suddenly a third man appeared from the bedroom and joined in.

"Whoa," Tony and McGee called together, ducking back below the counter to re-think their plan.

"This wouldn't happen if you had DVDs in those shelves," Tony rasped, checking his clip.

"Yeah," McGee agreed, checking his own weapon. "Books absorb bullets really well."

"But those dusty old records don't."

"Don't aim at my records!"

"He was using them as a shield."

"No he wasn't!."

"McGee!" intruded an angry new voice from the front door.

A volley of shots exploded around the room like a renegade Mexican wave and McGee and Tony were joined in the kitchen by a very surprised looking man.

"I'm guessing all that noise wasn't from your shredder," surmised McGee's neighbour as he crawled over to Tony.

"Who are you?" Tony demanded.

"Oh, hi: Jordon Block, McGee's neighbour." He held out his hand.

"Nice to meet you Jordon Block," Tony replied. "You wouldn't happen to have a gun on you would you?"

"Why do you think I was coming here?" Jordon replied digging a gun out of his pocket.

"What!" cried McGee.

"Look, McGee," Jordon explained. "I've got a hot date tonight. That shredder has ruined my life for the last time."

"Can you shoot?" asked Tony.

"I've been practising on the target range everyday for a month."

Tony weighed up the information and judged it favourable. "OK."

In the distance, they could hear people shuffling around McGee's writing area. Then there was the sound of McGee's desk being turned on its side and his typewriter smashing against the floorboards.

McGee cringed.

"Did they crush the shredder?" asked Jordon hopefully.

McGee shot him an evil look.

"Give me cover," Tony whispered. "I'm going for the cell."

He crawled to the pillar that defined the entrance to the small kitchen and reached out a hand in the direction of the envelope.

Another round of gunshots began, the majority of which were aimed in Tony's direction, forcing him to retreat.

"This is getting us nowhere," Tony lamented as they all stopped to reload.

"Yeah, that blasted shredder is still standing," Jordon agreed.

"Will you forget about my shredder," McGee growled. "You heard gunshots!"

"Well, sure: today it was gunshots but what about last night and the night before and the night before that. I haven't slept in a month. I'm a man on the edge, McGee."

"Maybe you'd like to swap sides," offered a voice from the far end of the room.

"Don't tempt me."

"I'm sorry," McGee apologised. "I've got a big book launching coming up and I had to write a speech and, well, it never quite seemed right."

"Ever heard of liquid paper?"

"Will you two stop it?" Tony said in exasperation. "We've got to get to that cell."

"I've got a cell," said Jordon.

Tony rolled his eyes. "You could have mentioned that earlier."

"Someone was shooting at me!"

"Give," Tony demanded.

Jordon handed it over sheepishly. "If you don't think someone has called the police by now…," he pointed out.

"Not calling the police."

Gibbs' ring tone echoed in the corridor outside McGee's apartment causing Tony and McGee to exchange relived smiles.

"That's the sound of our re-enforcements just outside the door," Tony called out.

They heard the men scuttling around.

"They're heading out the window," McGee called, leaning out to shoot again.

The three kitchen dwellers fired at the retreating backs as they disappeared and were joined almost immediately by Gibbs and Ziva. Together the group left the kitchen and approached the escape route.

"They won't get far," Gibbs said. "We didn't come alone."

Looking out the window they saw the road completely jammed with police cars.

"How did they find me?" asked McGee.

"From your publisher's web site," said Gibbs.

"So they matched the TV report image to the picture published on Lyndi's website and…hold on, that would take forever without a targeted search…" McGee frowned, puzzled.

"Unless someone was having a book launch and had his pen name and face plastered all over the windows of the local bookshops," Gibbs prompted.

"Ah, um, oops."

"So once they had the image from the TV, they only had to search for your pen name to find your publisher. She has a great bio on how you work for NCIS."

"So let me get this straight McGee," Tony began, squeezing his eyes shut and rubbing the tips of his fingers against his forehead. "You worry about us removing your picture from the secure NCIS internal database. Meanwhile you post autographed pictures of yourself over the streets."

"Well, yes, I guess."

Tony shook his head in disbelief.

"You don't have to live with him," Jordon pointed out.

Tony patted Jordon on the back in consolation and the five of them went back to watching the men outside being led away.

"You know," McGee sighed finally as the last of the police cars pulled away, "we didn't hit a single one of them: missed every target."

"You maybe," Jordon smiled contentedly, patting McGee's bullet-ridden shredder. "I've spent a month aiming at a picture of this thing."

---------------------------------------------The end-------------------------------------------

Next up - valentines fluff