A/N: This is my Round 6 entry to the LiveJournal NCIS-LFWS Challenge. It is set early days when Kate was still alive and McGee was still very green.
This Reminds Me of a Movie…
By Lizabeth S. Tucker
Tony pulled McGee from the open doorway of the farmhouse just before the sound of gunfire rang out.
"I don't know what you're thinking about, Probie, but for the time being you need to keep your head in the game."
"'s okay, kid." Tony patted him gently on the arm before pulling out his cell phone. A quick glimpse had him frowning. No Service was displayed on the screen. He shoved it back into his pocket.
Looking around the room, he grabbed a mirror off the hutch, carefully sliding it out past the splintered door frame, using the mirror to give him a look at what was facing them. "Damn."
Tony sighed. How do you tell the newbie that one of his first days out in the field as a member of Gibbs' team might just be his last? "McGee. Tim, I need you to do exactly what I tell you to do when I tell you. No arguments, no discussions, just blind obedience. Do you think you can do that?"
"Uh, yeah?" Tim's voice cracked on his uncertain reply.
Special Agent Timothy McGee was so new that he squeaked. There was no way that this fuzzy-haired youngster was gonna die on his watch. Tony checked his weapon, well aware that his two clips weren't enough to get out cleanly. "You got extra ammo?"
"No, am I supposed to?"
"You should always carry an extra clip, just in case something like this happens."
Tony turned to point to the wooded area past the barn where the militants were cutting off their escape and, soon enough, would move on them in mass. "I want you to make a run there while I lay down covering fire."
Tony held up his finger. "No arguments, remember. Once you get there, get on your cell and call Gibbs. He and Kate are on the way, but he needs to know what's waiting."
"What about you?"
Tony gave the nervous Probie his best grin. "I'll be here, of course. After Gibbs gets done mopping the bad guys up, I'll show you how to find Abby's sweet spot."
This got him wide green eyes that suddenly narrowed. "What makes you think I don't already know where it is?"
"Really?" Tony said, dragging the word out.
"I am so not having this conversation with you." Tim became serious. "Tony, you can't stay here by yourself." He waved at the aged wood walls. "This place isn't sturdy enough to keep you safe. Come with me!"
Tony smiled, gripping McGee's arm. "Not gonna work that way, kiddo. You need cover fire and that's my job." He held his hand up when it appeared Tim would argue again. "You need to slip out the back, through the cellar. There's a ditch that runs alongside the barn and to the woods. You stay low, keep going no matter what you hear. Once you're safely out of sight, call Gibbs. That's an order, Tim."
"Head to the back door. On the count of ten, you'll take off like a scared rabbit. Understand?"
"Yeah." McGee zipped up his dark blue NCIS jacket, hoping the color would keep him from being easily sighted in the approaching dusk.
Tony took a deep breath, centering himself as he slowly counted off in his head. He pulled his extra clip from his belt, placing it on the table nearby so it would be in easy reach. At ten he began firing and screaming to get the militia's attention. He wasn't surprised when they opened fire back at him. All he hoped was that they were all looking to him and not watching their immediate area.
The sounds of bullets hitting the wooden house was nearly deafening, only the sharp cracks of glass shattering breaking through. The knickknacks within the sight of the windows were quickly destroyed, the pieces flying across the parlor like shrapnel.
It wasn't long before his first clip was empty. Changing out, Tony slowed his shooting, wanting to keep some bullets for when the farmhouse was stormed. Hoping that he had given the young special agent time to pass by the barn, Tony pulled back from the front of the house, looking for a position of relative safety. He wiped his head where a stray splinter of a destroyed Meissen porcelain shepherdess had sliced the skin near his left eyebrow.
As he began pulling and pushing a heavy breakfront over to where the doorway to the dining room led to the kitchen, one lucky bullet slammed into his side, just above his waist. Tony gasped as he slammed his hand against the wound.
The sudden lull in slam-slam of heavy ammunition and shouted orders let him know that his time was fast eroding. Ignoring the blood pouring from his wounds, he resumed moving the heavy wooden furniture to make a barricade behind which he would make his final stand. He pushed the dining table over onto its side, dragging it to the corner of the room. Once the cubbyhole was prepared, Tony tried his cell again. Still no service.
"Well, Anthony, looks like you're gonna reenact THE ALAMO rather than THE GUNFIGHT AT THE OK CORRAL." His breathing was shallow as it usually became right before show time.
He could hear the sounds of boot-clad feet on the front porch, then the loud thump of the front door being torn off its hinges. Tony moved to his small hiding place to wait for the men to make their way through the house.
A strange, cold excitement filled him. Going out in a blaze of glory was always how Tony wanted to die. Or in the bed of a voluptuous woman when he was in his 80s.
Squeezed into a tight corner, Tony watched the doorway barricade destroyed. He glanced down at his Sig, knowing he was down to just three bullets. With a fierce grin, he prepared to go down fighting.
The first man who stuck his head into the room opening never realized his mistake, a blossom of red appearing between his eyes. The second man was a bit more cautious, trying to spray the room with semi-automatic gunfire before edging farther inside, but never completed it. Tony's next to last shot broke the man's wrist, making him drop the weapon.
Still somewhat protected by the heavy oak table, Tony waited for one more assault. Gunfire erupted in the room, tearing the wood to pieces. Tony hunched into himself, shielding his head from the shrapnel. He saw the man who appeared to be giving the orders step into sight, then turn back to look over his shoulder. The beleaguered NCIS special agent took his last shot, drilling the man's chest and putting him down.
As Tony climbed to his feet to make a run for it, something came rolling into the house. He had only a moment to realize that it was a shock grenade, not enough time to throw himself back to safety. Colors exploded in his brain as the device went off, his head erupting in blinding white pain. In agony, he was forced to his knees, then darkness fell over him before he hit the floor.
He came back to life in nightmare, flesh and blood. The struggle to consciousness was painful enough that Special Agent Tony DiNozzo wondered if it had been a good idea. A furious voice, lifted in a shout, came hammering into his skull. Tony moaned in response, trying to pull away.
"Tony, don't move."
Frowning, the wounded man struggled to place the voices. Despite opening his eyes, he didn't seem to be able to focus. Then when his eyes and brain finally connected, Tony's first impression was being overrun by strangers. Once again he attempted to scramble to his feet, to escape.
A hand gripped his chin, forcing him to look at the owner. "DiNozzo, it's all over. We got 'em."
"I'm fine, Tony."
The second voice now came with a name and face. "Sure?"
"Positive." Tim McGee stared down at Tony until the wounded man gave him a weak smile.
"Let the paramedics work on you," Gibbs ordered. "You're a bloody mess, DiNozzo."
"I'm f-fine, boss."
"Yeah, I can tell." Gibbs' steely gaze softened just a bit as he gently patted Tony's chest.
"Ya know, this reminds me of a movie I once saw," Tony observed in an effort to ignore the pain coming from all parts of his body.
Gibbs snorted, striding off. McGee remained, listening wide-eyed to the convoluted replay of some obscure adventure film.