Title:Desperate Measures Chapter: 1/7 Author: Ceindreadh Email: Website: n/a Permission to archive: Yes to WWOMB, anybody else, please ask first.
Fandom(s): NCIS Genre (general, hetero or slash): Slash/Action/Angst Pairing/Characters: Tony DiNozzo/Tim McGee Rating: FRT Summary: Warnings: Disclaimer. I don't own the NCIS characters, I'm only borrowing them, and I promise to return them in minty fresh condition when I'm finished.
Notes: Thanks to FatCat for her Beta'ing

Desperate measures

Tony had been in a lot of dangerous and scary situations in his life, but this had to rank up there as one of the worst. He'd been shot at on numerous occasions. He'd been knocked on the head with bottles and lamps and assorted other items; he'd been beaten up on many occasions. He'd been pushed out of an airplane, although luckily he'd had a parachute on, so maybe that didn't really count. He'd even been drugged and locked in a room in the depths of the sewers before having a gun pointed straight at his face. Danger came with the job of being an N.C.I.S. agent, it was one of the perks of the job, he used to laugh. Of course one of the other perks of the job had been working side by side with his lover Tim. Or Probie as he affectionately called him, although technically speaking McGee wasn't a Probationary N.C.I.S. agent any more, but Tony still liked to tease him with the name every now and then, just for a laugh.

Tony wasn't laughing now. But then, being handcuffed to a radiator in an old building that had just been set on fire wasn't really a laughing matter. Although there was possibly some irony in the fact that the perp had used Tony's own handcuffs on him. If it hadn't been for the flames that Tony could hear outside the room, and the smoke that was starting to trickle under the door, Tony might have found the whole situation amusing...something to laugh and joke with McGee about when they ended up in bed together that night. But it didn't look like he was going to be seeing McGee any more, not unless drastic action was taken.

"Rule number nine," said Tony to himself as he fumbled with the buckle to his belt and pulled out his knife. "Never go anywhere without one of these beauties." He left the knife on the ground and then pulled his belt through the loops, before buckling it round his trapped arm and pulling it tight. Taking a deep breath, he picked up the knife again, glad that he had spend some time the previous weekend sharpening the blade.

This was like that old Mel Gibson movie, thought Tony. Ten minutes to saw through a pair of handcuffs, but only five minutes to saw through a wrist. Only problem was, the guy in the movie had had a hacksaw and not a knife, and Tony wasn't sure that he'd even got five minutes before the whole building would be ablaze. His left hand was shaking as he held the knife to his wrist trying to decide whether it would be better to cut above or below the cuff. Even as he mulled over the options in his mind, he knew that he was merely trying to put off the inevitable. It wasn't really going to matter whether he cut above or below. Chances were that he'd pass out from pain or blood loss before he'd be able to finish the job. But it wasn't like he had a lot of options. Better to bleed out quickly than be burned alive where he sat. The noise of the flames was getting louder now. And the smoke was starting to filter its way over to where he sat.

With that in mind Tony pressed the knife against his wrist, wincing as he broke through the skin. A little bit of blood welled up and he pulled the knife away. He couldn't do it. "I'm not going to burn alive," he told himself, as he held the knife against his throat. One quick swipe should do it, he thought, remembering how that Hanlon guy had killed himself rather than be taken back to prison. Tony closed his eyes and thought of McGee as he held the knife. He could almost here his lover's voice.

"Tony!"

Tony opened his eyes and saw McGee standing in the doorway surrounded by smoke.
"McGee, what the hell are you doing here?"

"House hunting...what do you think I'm doing..." McGee's voice trailed off as he saw the handcuff around Tony's wrist. "Oh no," he said, even as he reached for his own handcuff keys.

"Don't bother," said Tony. "He superglued the lock. Those cuffs aren't opening any time soon. The only way I'm getting out of them is..." He mimed slicing his hand off.

"You can't do that," said McGee, crouching down beside Tony and pulling at the cuffs. "There has to be another way...maybe if we both pull together?"

"It's too strong..." Tony put the knife down and grabbed at McGee's arm. "Tim, I can't do it myself...you'll have to cut my hand off so I can get out of these cuffs."

McGee looked at Tony in horror, unable to believe what he was hearing. "Tony, you can't be serious...I can't...there's got to be another way...I called the fire brigade, they'll be here in a few minutes."

Tony shook his head. "We don't have a few minutes. If we're getting out of here it has to be now." He pulled McGee in close to him, "Tim, either cut my hand off or get the hell out of here...and that's an order."

McGee bit his lip and swallowed hard. Neither option was a particularly nice one, but there was no way in hell that he was going to leave Tony in this death trap. "Wait, there was an old fire axe in the corridor outside. It...it'll be quicker than the knife." He stood and ran over to the door, "I'm coming back Tony, I promise..." And then he was through the door and disappeared into the smoke.

"If he's any sense, he'll get the hell out of the building without looking back," Tony thought. "That'd be the smart thing to do." But he knew McGee, and he knew that even if they hadn't been involved in a relationship, there was no way that Tim would leave him to die like this. But there was always the possibility that McGee wouldn't make it back. With that in mind, Tony picked up his knife again. The only way McGee wouldn't come back would be if he was caught by the fire, and if Tim was dead, then Tony didn't particularly care if he lived or died.

"Come on, McGee," Tony said to himself, even as the smoke started to sting his eyes and sear his throat. "Where are you?" He pulled at the handcuffs again, on the off chance that some small miracle might have occurred in the last few minutes and that the metal would have suddenly rusted through, but it was no use. Distracted by his vain efforts, he didn't hear the footsteps crossing the room until they were almost beside him. Even as he turned his head to look up, something struck him and everything went black.

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To be continued.