When Tim McGee woke up he felt pain in his chest and head. Massive amounts of pain and he had no idea as to why that was.

He shifted and felt the pulling of bandages covering a burning pain in his chest. And then he remembered.

The team had been called out to the scene of the murder of an admiral and when they had arrived they found themselves in the middle of a shootout. They got in the thick of things - once they figured out which side they should be shooting towards and which they should be shooting with - and things were going well.

Until Tony was shot.

He and Tony had crouched behind the same row of construction barrels and were doing a good job of picking off shooters, utilizing the gaps between the barrels. The shooting had stopped for several long minutes and they kept glancing at each other and peering through the cracks, trying to figure out if it was over.

They hadn't expected to be caught in a gunfight and so they weren't wired up. They had no idea where Ziva and Gibbs had gone to and whether or not they were all right. And the only person they had been shooting alongside had crept away to find out what was going on and had yet to come back.

Tony had the idea of raising his discarded jacket above the barrels to see if anyone would take the bait and begin shooting. When the bullets didn't start flying again he cautiously peeked his head above the barrel, slowly rising further and further up until he was almost standing.

Before Tim knew what was going on Tony was slumped over the top of a barrel, a red gash blazing across the side of his head. Without a thought to his own safety Tim leapt up, knowing he had to get his friend back behind their barricade before someone managed to get him full on in the head.

It took only a matter of moments to grab Tony, lift him off the barrel and lower him to the ground. But it took only a millisecond for a bullet to slam into Tim's chest and rip through him.

His fall to the ground seemed to take ages. He could clearly see Gibbs and Ziva running towards him and he tried to shout out a warning to them to take cover. But before he could open his mouth his head was slamming to the ground and he saw no more.

But now he was awake and, considering his last moment of being shot and the rather uncomfortable mattress beneath him - he was in a hospital.

"Come on Timmy, I know you're awake."

"Abby?" he groaned out, although to be honest he wasn't surprised she was there. She always had to be by the side of an injured friend.

A hand squeezed his. Up until that moment he hadn't realized his hand had been captured by hers, but he squeezed back as he struggled to open his eyes against the harsh light.

"That's it… open those beautiful eyes of yours," Abby cajoled. And her flattery certainly gave him the inspiration to force them open.

He found himself staring into the depths of her eyes. It was rather disconcerting to go from the darkness of pain to plunging into Abby's green depths. He could see the obvious relief swimming with the tears, but there was another look in her eyes that he couldn't quite figure out.

And then he realized she was talking to him.

"Wha?" he croaked out through a dry throat.

"Oh! You must be thirsty!" she said, leaping up to grab a cup full of ice chips. "You're not supposed to drink anything until the doctors look you over, but you can suck on some ice."

She gently popped a sliver of ice into his mouth and he almost groaned in the ecstasy of the icy treat.

The ice chip was soon gone but he shook his head when she offered another. He had to find out how his team was first.


Abby mock glared at him.

"You must've gotten a rather nasty knock on the head if you think I'm Tony!"

Tim slowly shook his head, not amused.

"No. He okay?" he forced out.

Her forehead crinkled with her confused expression.

"What do you mean? You were the only idiot to get hurt out there."

That confused Tim. He knew without question that Tony had gotten shot, even if it was just a graze it was a rather deep and nasty one.

Before he could attempt to argue with her though the door swung open and in walked Tony - as fit and healthy as ever.

"McGoo! You're awake!" Tony said with glee. He poked his head back in the hall and Tim clearly heard him say "Honey, Tim's awake!"

But that didn't make any sense, because Tony didn't have anyone in his life to call Honey. Unless he had some blonde bimbo tagging along whose name was Honey. Tim figured that was the truth for all of five seconds before he saw Ziva walk in, grinning from ear-to-ear. It wasn't so much that Ziva had walked in - it was that she had walked in and taken Tony's hand as if it were a perfectly natural thing to do.

That was when Tim began to realize that there was something off.

"Have I been out for long?" he asked Abby, glad that his voice was finally coming back. Maybe he had been in a coma for months. That would explain why Tony was okay. And maybe he and Ziva had finally gotten together in the intervening time between getting shot and waking up.

"Yes!" Abby said, and Tim felt the relief of having everything explained. "You've been out three and a half days. You had me worried sick!"

"Three days?" he asked, hoping he had heard wrong.

"And a half!" Abby insisted on adding. She lifted his hand to her lips and softly kissed his knuckles. "I was so worried you weren't going to be okay."

Abby never acted this affectionately towards Tim - a fact that he constantly rued. But now being faced with it he was a little creeped out, simply because it was just another thing outside his realm of normalcy.

He had so many questions that he wanted to ask. But, just as he was about to ask about the shot that had grazed Tony, Gibbs walked in - and he was carrying a little girl who was sleeping sweetly, her cheek resting against his shoulder.

"Good to see you're awake, Tim," Gibbs said, grinning down at him. The rumble of his voice in his chest was enough to wake the girl up.

Emerald green eyes blinked opened sleepily before shooting open wide with joy. Black pigtails whipped through the air as the child turned to grin at Abby.

"Look Mommy! Daddy's awake!"

Tim was frozen in shock. The little black-haired green-eyed girl clasped in Gibbs' arms had called Abby Mommy and him Daddy. Something was obviously very wrong.

"Daddy!" the little girl shouted with her arms outstretched towards him.

"No, no Gracie," Abby said, taking her daughter from Gibbs' arms. "Daddy has an owwie so we have to be gentle with him for a while. Okay?"

The child looked between Abby and Tim several times before nodding.

"Daddy, you be okay?"

Tim looked up at the child, willing himself to remember who she was. Obviously he had amnesia. Doing a quick determination of the girl's age - he was missing a good portion of at least the last four years of his life.

"Sweetie?" Abby said, trying to get his attention. Apparently he had been staring at the child for a good long while.

"What year is it?" he blurted out before he think to approach the subject of his memory loss more delicately.

"Probie?" Tony stepped closer to the bed, a wary look in his eye. "What year do you think it is?" he asked.

"2010. Last thing I remember we were out on assignment on March 4, 2010."

Tim watched as his co-workers looked back and forth at each other. There was a mixture of emotions in the room. Anxiety and disbelief seemed to be common, but the overarching expression on their faces was concern.

"Probie, buddy…" Tony started, but then trailed off. He seemed unwilling to go on.

"What? What's the date?" Tim said. He really needed to know what was going on before he went crazy.

"Tim, Sweetie…" Abby began before she too was unable to continue.

It was Gibbs, of course, who finally got to the crux of the problem.

"McGee - it's March 8, 2010."

This is a work in progress and so updates will be sporadic.