Hanging By a Moment

By EmyPink

Disclaimer: NCIS is not mine..

A/N Well, well, well, Smackalicious has inspired me to try my hand at a McGiva fic. And not only is this my first McGiva fic, it's also the first time I've really written anything about McGee. McGee, I feel, is not a character I do well, so I'm exploring both the McGiva paring and the McGee character at the same time. Gah, I think I make him sound too Tony-ish, but that's because I'm a Tony writer. Please tell me how to improve my Timmy. Oh, and Cassy (off NFA) due to her Ziva and Mossad challenge being in first person, has inspired me to write this in first person, a point of view I love, but don't write a lot. Let me know what you think, please.

Thanks to my beta, Kandon Kuuson, for putting up with a fic that is not Tiva. Thanks, Jems.

Rating: T for some adult themes

Parings: McGiva

Summary:"I told you not to look down."

"Heroism consists of hanging on one minute longer." - Norwegian Proverb










The first thing I notice is a familiar female voice calling out to me desperately. I try to picture her face, but find this task an impossible feat.


There it is again. I struggle to open my eyes, but it's like they're glued shut. Tony? Has he somehow glued part of my anatomy … again? No … that doesn't explain the persistent cracks and thumps that bounce around my head.

"McGee! Can you hear me?"

Of course, I can hear … her. Whoever she is. It's my eyes that don't work. Suddenly, I feel myself lurch forwards. What? Am I on a ship? It feels like there are waves underneath, rocking the boat? … back and forth. No, I was in a car. Yes, a car.

I feel a hand grip my arm … hard and sharp gasp. The car lurches forward again and the grip increases. There is another moan and I start to worry.


There it is again. It sounds strange, like the voice is unfamiliar … unaccustomed to calling me Tim. Timothy McGee, that's me. At least I remember that much.

"McGee, if you do not open your eyes, I will tell Tony about what happened after work yesterday."

Beneath the sentence, there is some odd unlay of a threat, but it doesn't sound threatening. There is a slight overture of … concern and worry? Now I'm making no sense.

Yesterday? What happened yesterday? I rack my brain, trying to remember. Something about … computers … and, oh god, porn … and a terribly inappropriate comment. Ziva!

"Ziva," I repeat hoarsely. My throat feels like sandpaper. What happened?

I hear her sign with relief. "McGee, can you look at me."

My eyelids flicker open and slowly a shadowy figure turns into a feminine figure. Ziva.

"Ziva," I repeat for the second time as her normally emotionless eyes, now filled with concern, appear in my vision.

She mutters something in Hebrew. "McGee, look at me."

Her hair starts to form; I have always like those dark curls. She'd probably kill me if I told her that … Ziva can be one scary lady at times.

Finally, my vision starts to clear and Ziva becomes the woman I have grown to know over these past two years. I see her look down at me, a concerned smile on her face.

"Mmmm … what happened," I ask as I notice a thin trail of blood trickling down her face. I instinctively reach out to wipe it away, but she jerks backwards before I can reach her. "You're … you're hurt."

"I'm fine, McGee," she says stiffly, quickly removing her hand from my arm as if she had been electrocuted. "It is you that I am worried about. We … we walked off the road, yes?"

Walked off the road. What is she talking about? Concussion? Car … injuries … oh, we crashed? We ran off the road.

"Ran, Ziva," I say weakly, knowing that it is Tony that usually does this. "Ran off the road."

"Same difference," she mutters. "Yes, we crashed the car."

I know it's neither the time nor the place, but I cannot say I'm surprised. With Ziva driving, as harsh as it may seem, I'm amazed we haven't crashed earlier.

"Oh," I don't what to say. My arm is starting to hurt … a lot. I can't help myself as I moan in pain.

"I think your arm is broken, McGee," she confirms what I already suspect. Tony wouldn't have broken his arm. Hell, he would have had Ziva out of the car now and be calling Gibbs. Gibbs would have had her out too, but I'm here with my broken arm while Ziva is trying to save me. I shouldn't have let this happen.

"Ah, McGee," she says hesitantly, debating whether or not to tell me.

"Mmmm …" is all I can manage as the pain in my arms shoots towards my shoulder and my neck.

"Whatever you do, don't look down," she mumbles reluctantly.

Don't look down … oh. Too late. As I look down, my chest tightens and my breathing increases sharply. I gasp in shock and surprise and horror. No wonder I heard the sounds of rocks falling. No wonder I thought we were on a boat as the car lurched forwards. Below us is a fifty-metre odd drop. Not only did we just run off the road, we ended up half hanging off a cliff.

"No …" I am too stunned to say anything else.

Ziva looks at me sadly. "I told you not to look down."