McGee lay on the couch in his apartment, eyes closed, arm from his uninjured side behind his head. He breathed in deeply, something he hadn't been able to do for a couple weeks after the incident. He was still a little fuzzy on the details. He remembered chasing the man, and realizing what was happening, but after that he'd had to rely on what Tony had told him to fill in the blanks.
Apparently, he had pushed Tony out of the way and taken the bullet that was meant for him. Was he really that brave?
Tony had barely left his side in the hospital, almost to the point of murderous intent on McGee's part. When the man felt guilty, he didn't know how to shut up.
McGee took in another deep breath, the cold air of his apartment invigorating his lungs. That damn intubator was hell, and they didn't take it out for two days. Not that he wasn't grateful; he knew enough about medicine to know that he couldn't breathe on his own for quite a while after having a punctured lung.
He reveled in the silence of his living room, but that would only last for a little while. The last time he checked his clock, it said o' five hundred, right around the time his colleagues left the office. They had all made a habit of coming over to his house and not leaving until he forcefully kicked them out.
About thirty minutes later, the unmistakable knock came. McGee sighed and got up, but he smiled all the same. They may annoy the hell out of him, but he still enjoyed their company. He hadn't even made it to the door before it was thrown open to reveal Ziva on one knee, lock picking tools still in hand. He glared at her and she grinned slyly, "Didn't want to wake you up."
Tony pushed past her. "McGeekle! How's it hanging?" he mussed McGee's hair, causing McGee to have to brush it back down with his fingers. His eye started to twitch as Tony passed him and headed for the kitchen followed by Gibbs, pizzas in hand. I'm gonna kill him, McGee thought.
Ziva went to close the door only to have it pushed open by Abby, who promptly pounced on him. "Timmy!" she hugged him gently, contrasting to how she sounded.
"Hey Abbs. Did you have a good day?" She began to regale him with every last detail of her day as he led her to the couch.
The door was almost closed again when Ducky and Palmer made their way in and Ziva quickly slammed it shut, a slightly angry look on her face, and went to the kitchen.
The night wasn't so bad, actually. At least, this time, they managed to talk about something other than him. Until— "Oh, hey, McGee," Tony stated, ignoring the fact that he still had food in his mouth. "We found the guy that hired those thugs to kill you."
McGee was confused. "What—"
Ziva spoke up. "Four months ago, on the cliff."
"Oh, right." He laughed. "I'd completely forgotten about that. So who was it?"
Tony put down his drink, mouth finally empty. "Those guys you helped put away with all that jetpack stuff you know."
"Nope." Gibbs said. "Victor Tillman managed to find a hit man in his circle of friends in prison. As soon as he got out, he was promised money if he killed you."
McGee was in shock. That was pretty damn obscure.
"Looks like you got one on me, Probie. Nobody's ever hired a hit man from prison to come after me." He smiled, toothily. "I'm so proud of you." That earned him a headslap.
At ten o' clock, McGee had just finished pushing them all out of his apartment, or, at least what he thought was all of them. He jumped when he turned around to find Tony staring at him. "Get out."
Tony just smiled. "I promise I'll leave, but I wanted to ask you something."
McGee raised his eyebrows. It had to be important if he had waited for everyone else to leave. "Alright," he said, going back to the living room.
Tony sat on the chair across from McGee, pulling it up, reminiscent of the way they had been positioned when McGee saw Tony's past, and gave him a serious look.
"What?" McGee asked.
"I've just been wondering…. Have you seen any more spirits since you got shot?"
Oh, that. "No."
Tony's head jutted forward, as if waiting for more. "No?"
McGee shook his head. "No."
Tony narrowed his eyes, unbelieving. Then he nodded slowly. "Sure. Whatever you say, man." He got up, but paused, and looked down a McGee. "You know you can come to me if you need to. I'll believe you no matter what." He smirked. "Learned that the hard way," he almost said to himself. Then he left.
McGee lay back down in the same position he had been in before. He'd probably wind up telling Tony about what happened when he supposedly died, but for right now, he needed some more time to think about it.
One thing, however, was certain. He was glad to be alive.
AN: I really hope you enjoyed my story and thanks to everyone who read, and a special thanks to those who reviewed. Just one more would make quite an end to a story. Even if you've never reviewed before, I'd like to know how you all think the story turned out. Keep being awesome!