Title: Desperate Measures
Chapter: 1/7
Author: Ceindreadh
Email: Ceindreadh@eircom.net
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.

------------------

To be continued.

Title: Desperate Measures
Chapter: 02/07
Author: Ceindreadh
Email: Ceindreadh@eircom.net
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

Previously on Desperate Measures
Tony was handcuffed to a radiator in a burning building. McGee showed up just as Tony was about to take drastic measures to free himself. McGee went in search of an axe to try and free Tony.

"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.

------------------

To be continued.

[Part 2]

A few days earlier.

"So, we don't know whether Andrews took the money or not. We have no evidence placing him at the scene of Petty Officer Oliver's murder. Ducky's not even sure if Oliver was murdered. Hell, we don't even know if Oliver *had* an accomplice to the thefts, let alone whether Andrews was it." Gibbs turned around from the plasma screen, which was displaying pictures of Andrews and Oliver.

Gibbs was not a happy camper, in spite of having consumed three mugs of coffee and working through his fourth. A series of thefts had been discovered at a local base. Petty Officer Oliver had been a supply clerk who was a whiz at computers and had manipulated the software to hide the fact that he was diverting goods intended for military use to be sold to the highest bidder and pocketing the money. Gibbs had been about to take him into custody when Oliver had gotten wind of the investigation and panicked. By the time they'd arrived at his quarters, Oliver was dead of a drug overdose and Ducky had been unable to determine whether it had been self-inflicted or not.

"There's no sign of bruising on the body," Ducky had told Gibbs, Tony and McGee as they watched him slide X-rays onto the light box. "He has no broken bones, there's no sign that any force was used."

"Yeah, but if he was killed by someone he knew then he could have been taken by surprise," pointed out Tony. He had been pushing the accomplice theory all along, on the grounds that Oliver was such a weenie that he'd never have had the nerve to come up with the plan in the first place. "Or maybe the guy just slipped him a Mickey Finn and bam, Oliver's out like a light and all the perp has to do is pull the plastic bag over his head and wait for him to suffocate."

"It could have been a woman," suggested McGee. "There's several women working in the same section as Petty Officer Oliver. One of them could have been working with him."

"Ooh, a femme fatale," said Tony, grinning. "She seduces him into doing her dirty work for her and then once the heat is on she kills him to avoid suspicion. Nice!"

"Except for the fact that Abby find any other prints on the bag," snapped Gibbs.

"Yeah Boss," said Tony, "But didn't she say that Oliver's prints were all smudged over the bag, so maybe the perp just wore gloves."

"Or maybe the pills didn't work quickly enough and Oliver tried to change his mind and pull the bag off his head," pointed out McGee. "That would account for the smearing."

Tony shot him a 'who's side are you on look'.

"Okay," said Gibbs, finally. "Go over the financial records of Oliver, *and* everybody he was in close contact with. See if there's a pattern. If nothing else, we still have to find out what the hell he did with all the money."

----------------------

Twenty-four hours later and after not having slept for much of them, Tony and McGee were no closer to finding out where the money had gone. The only thing to show for all their efforts was that Tony had fixated on Petty Officer Andrews as Oliver's accomplice. "It all fits," he told Gibbs excitedly as he detailed out the connections between the two.

"It's circumstantial at best. There could be any number of people with just as close ties to Oliver," said Gibbs.

"Sure Boss," replied Tony, "But how many of them have been draining their bank accounts over the past few months. McGee traced through Andrews's transactions. In the last ten weeks, Andrews has been siphoning off a lot his cash, and my guess is that he's converting it into something a bit more portable. I think he was planning on disappearing even before we started investigating the thefts. And now that Oliver's dead..."

"He's going to make his move." Gibbs frowned. "Do we have *any* concrete evidence linking him to Oliver and the thefts?"

Tony shook his head, "Nothing that'd give us a reason to haul him in for questioning. Of course you don't really *need* a reason..." Tony stopped when he saw Gibbs looking at him.

McGee stepped into the breach before Tony dug himself a deeper hole, "But if you bring him in for interrogation now, we've got nothing to hold him on or even threaten him with to make him give up the money. He's got to have hundreds of thousands of dollars stashed away somewhere, but if we've got no proof then he can just deny everything."

"Yeah, and even if you scare him into confessing, Boss, we may never find the money."

Gibbs looked back at the plasma screen and sipped his coffee while thinking over what McGee and DiNozzo had said.

Tony looked at McGee and shrugged, before speaking up, "So what do you want us to do Boss?"

"Follow him."

-------------------------

So Tony and McGee had spent the last twenty-four hours following Andrews as he went about his business. Normally Tony would have been delighted to spend twenty-four hours alone with McGee, but soon after they had started into their relationship, McGee had insisted on a rule of his own "McGee's rule number one," he had solemnly announced to Tony. "No messing around while we're working. Whatever Gibbs might say about us sleeping together, do you have any idea how pissed he'd be if he caught us making out when we're on the job?"

"Wouldn't that be part of the fun?" Tony had grinned in response. "The thrill of doing it when Gibbs could catch us?"

"Um, not really, no. I mean, I don't mind trying the odd dangerous thing, but I draw the line at pissing off Gibbs, I mean, *really*."

So Tony had agreed to McGee's little rule, and he had to admit that spending the days working side by side with him and not being able to touch, somehow made the nights sooo much more satisfying.

By the end of the first twenty-four hours, Tony was convinced that Andrews had spotted them or something. "He hasn't done anything out of the ordinary," he complained as they followed Andrews's car. "Maybe we spooked him or something."

"Or maybe he's just not our guy," pointed out McGee. "We have no proof to suggest that he is."

Tony looked at him in surprise, "I thought you thought he was the guy?"

McGee shook his head, "*You* thought he was the guy, so I figured we should go with your hunch. It's not as if we had any better leads."

"So you just went along with me. What were you doing, just humoring me until I thought of something else?" Tony snapped at McGee.

"That's not what I said," McGee, replied, trying to calm Tony down. After twenty-four hours stuck in the car, he could tell that Tony was getting frustrated.

"Yeah, well it sure sounded like it. Next time maybe you should..."
Tony was interrupted by McGee yelping, "He's stopping, pull in!"

"Don't tell me how to follow somebody, *Probie*," Tony muttered under his breath as he quickly pulled into the side of the nearly deserted street. Andrews's car had turned into a small alleyway about twenty or thirty meters ahead, and a quick check of the map showed that it was a dead end. Even as they watched, Andrews left the alleyway on foot, carrying a large duffle bag and went into an abandoned looking building beside the alleyway.

Tony quickly checked his weapon. "Stay here, McGee," he ordered.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Andrews could be trying to shake us. While we're waiting here, he could be sneaking through that building and out the back way. I'll check it out, you drive around the block. If you see him then phone me." Tony was out of the car before McGee could argue.

With hindsight, it probably hadn't been the best of plans, but it had been a long stake out and Tony was anxious to do something instead of just sitting in the car. Easy though it might sound, it was still tiring to have had to concentrate on watching the suspect for so long, and Tony's reactions had been dulled by the inaction. At least that was the excuse in his mind when he'd entered the building and turned in response to a noise behind him only to find Andrews pointing a shotgun straight at his face.

There had been nothing Tony could do. Any attempt on his part to bring his gun to bear on Andrews and the guy was going to blast his head off. All Tony could do was go up the stairs to the third floor and sit on the ground in a room with the windows boarded up. Andrews had instructed Tony to give him his phone and then handcuff his wrist to the pipe and throw away the key. Tony had tried to escape by pretending to drop the cuffs first, but Andrews had simply rammed the barrel of the shotgun into his stomach, winding him badly. By the time Tony had been able to move again, his wrist had been securely fastened to the radiator and Andrews had been applying superglue to the lock.

"Just in case you have any little lock picks hidden about you," Andrews had said quite cheerfully. "I don't want you getting loose before the fire starts. That would ruin my plans completely."

"Fire?" Tony had asked, still a little dazed.

"Oh yes," Andrews had replied, quite gleefully. "How else do you think I'm going to fake my own death? You see, as you may have guessed, I've been planning this for a while. And I figured that the best way to give myself a head start was to fake my death. All I needed was a body and a building to 'accidentally' burn down."

Tony shrank away in horror, "You'll never get away with this..." He jerked at the handcuffs. "N.C.I.S. will figure out that this wasn't an accident."

"Oh I wasn't going to use your body for mine, that'd be quite absurd. No, I've already got a body in the basement. He's a little older than I am, but once the fire does its work, all that'll really be left will be a skeleton and nobody is going to know the difference. And as for you, well it'll simply be assumed that I overpowered you and left you here - not entirely untrue - and then was trapped by the flames before escaping. It'll actually make the whole thing even more plausible."

"You...you bastard," Tony was thinking frantically, trying to figure a way out of this situation. "Hey, our M.E. is pretty smart, he'll check your dental records and everything."

"Ah, it's rather unfortunate that," Andrews sighed almost regretfully. "You see, poor dental hygiene growing up, coupled with an unfortunate car accident in my youth and..." He fiddled with his mouth and produced a dental bridge, showing them to a dumbstruck Tony before replacing them. "These are a new set of course, from my new identity. The original bridgework is in the mouth of my doppelganger down below. Your M.E. will of course automatically check the reference number on these with all local dentists, and will of course come up with *my* name. So you see, I think I have everything covered." Andrews looked at his watch. "And now I must go, I have a plane to catch. Enjoy what little remains of your life. I estimate that the fire should have reached this floor long before the fire department will get here. Even assuming that they're notified. It seems some reckless individual may have disconnected the alarms. Such a tragedy when that happens."

So Tony had been left to his fate, and only minutes after Andrews had left, he had heard the first sound of the flames.

---------------------------

To be continued

Title: Desperate Measures
Chapter: 03
Author: Ceindreadh
Email: Ceindreadh@eircom.net
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: Just the usual 'lets beat up Tony' warnings (I *do* like him...honest!)
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

Previously on NCIS. Tony followed a suspect into an abandoned building, only to get captured, handcuffed to a radiator, and the building set on fire around him. McGee showed up just as Tony was about to do something drastic, and Tony ordered him to cut his hand off to free him. McGee left to retrieve a fire axe to do the deed.

-----------------

"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.

---------------------------

[Part 3]

-------------------------------

Tony could feel hands on his body, moving him. There were voices babbling all around him, yelling things about BP falling and typing and cross matching and would somebody page Ortho and Plastics before the poor sucker bled out on them. It was like one of those reality shows on Discovery, Tony thought; the ones that Tim watched when he was researching stuff for his novel. Sounded like some poor sap was in real trouble what with the beeping of the machines and the frantic yelling that he could hear in the background.

"Jesus, what sort of butcher did this?"

Tony strained to hear what was going on, but the noises were fading away again. He was vaguely aware that there was something he should be doing...something important...but it was too difficult to concentrate and eventually he just let himself fade out.

------------------------

When Tony came back to awareness, he wasn't sure at first where he was. There was a rhythmic beeping noise in the background...initially almost soothing, and at first Tony wasn't really inclined to do anything about it. But after a while, it was starting to annoy him a bit, so he forced his eyes open. White, was his first thought...everything was all white. This puzzled Tony for a bit...he could feel that he was lying on a bed, but his bedroom ceiling wasn't that shade of white. It confused him, because the bed was too comfortable for a hotel room and he couldn't think what other bed he'd be in. Thinking though was rather a strenuous activity for his energy levels, so Tony closed his eyes again and slept.

---------------------

It could have been a few minutes or a few hours later when Tony woke again. This time as well as the sound of the beeping, and the whiteness of the ceiling, he noticed something else...the familiar antiseptic smell. "Hospital?" he mumbled, not even sure if the words passed his lips or if he had just imagined saying them. Whichever it was, it tired him sufficiently to make him close his eyes again.

---------------------

Tony's next period of wakefulness must have been at night, because he noticed immediately that the lights were slightly dimmer than the previous time. His brain was still a bit foggy, and he was still feeling very weak, but this time he was determined to stay awake for long enough to figure out what was going on. "Hospital," he told himself, even as he tried to figure out what was wrong with him. He closed his eyes again, willing himself to remember what had happened to put him in hospital...the last thing he remembered was...the radiator...McGee going to get an axe...the memory hit him, as powerful as a physical blow.

Tony swallowed hard, not wanting to open his eyes to face reality. Maybe if he kept his eyes shut then this would turn out to have just been all a bad dream and his hand would still be there and he wouldn't have to quit his job because whoever heard of a one handed N.C.I.S. agent? But try as he might, Tony just couldn't shake the knowledge that this was all true and wasn't some horrible dream.

Slowly he opened his eyes and forced himself to look at where the stump of his wrist was going to be.

It was almost an anticlimax to realize that he couldn't actually see it. Some sort of sling, which concealed his wrist from view, supported Tony's right arm, and what Tony could see of the limb was swathed in bandages.

Tony let out a shaky breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. It came out as more of a sob than he intended. He tried to tell himself that it wouldn't be *so* bad...he'd probably get some sort of compensation for being injured in the line of duty. Maybe a disability pension or something...and he still had one hand...and wasn't that all he needed anyway...and it was better than being a crispy critter with both hands, right?

"Oh my God, Tony, you're awake!"

Tony turned his head at the sound of McGee's voice, and quickly wiped his hand across his eyes, banishing the tears that had been threatening. "Tim!" he said, "You...you look terrible."

It wasn't an exaggeration. McGee looked as if he hardly slept in days, and as if what little sleep he had managed to get had been in the clothes he was wearing. He looked about as exhausted as Tony felt, and there were a bandage on one hand.

"You're hurt?" said Tony, trying to sit up.

McGee pushed him gently back against the bed. "It's nothing, just some minor scrapes and burns. I'm fine, I promise." He pushed Tony's hair back out of his face. "I've just been so worried about you."

Tony reached out and pulled McGee into a half hug. "You saved my life, Tim. I don't think I'll ever be able to repay you for what you did." Tony could feel McGee tense slightly and half pull away.

"Tony," said McGee, not meeting his eyes. "I'm really, really sorry about what happened."

Tony shrugged, and said with studied indifference, "You did what you had to do. I'd shake your hand but..." He jerked his head towards the sling, but even as he watched McGee's lip quiver slightly, Tony made himself a promise that neither by word nor action would he ever let Tim know how he felt about losing his hand. McGee had done what he had had to do to save his life, and Tony was determined to be grateful to *be* alive, no matter what the cost had been. "Hey Probie," he said. "You did what you had to do, and you saved my life. Just remember that. If you hadn't of cut my hand off, I'd be there on Ducky's Autopsy table right now and Ducky and Palmer tossing a coin as to who gets the first cut."

"Tony," McGee said in a shaky voice. "There's something I have to tell you..."

---------------------------

To be continued

Genre (general, hetero or slash): Slash/Action/Angst
Pairing/Characters: Tony DiNozzo/Tim McGee
Rating: FRT
Warnings: damaging Tony...again, tissues *may* be required
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
Previously on NCIS. Tony was captured by a bad guy and handcuffed to a radiator in a burning building. When McGee showed up, Tony ordered him to cut his hand off to free him. McGee left to get a fire axe to do the deed. Tony was still chained to the radiator when somebody hit him on the head.
He came to in hospital, McGee by his side.




---------------------------

[Part 04]

-------------------------

McGee started coughing almost as soon as he stepped out into the hallway. In the few minutes he had spent talking to Tony, the smoke in the hall had thickened considerably, and McGee knew that if he didn't get Tony freed from the handcuffs soon, then neither of them might be getting out of the building alive. The smoke was stinging McGee's eyes and he was barely able to see his way down the corridor to where he was sure he had seen the fire axe on his way in. Not that he had been looking for one; his main focus had been throwing open every door along the way in his search for his partner.

The fire axe was right where McGee remembered it and he wrenched it from its settings. Taking a deep breath, he hurried back to the door of Tony's room. All he had to do was make sure the belt on Tony's arm was tight enough to act as a proper tourniquet and then...a single blow should do it. McGee hesitated at the doorway. What if it took more than a single blow? What if he swung the axe and didn't manage to sever Tony's hand and Tony would be screaming in pain and McGee didn't think he could cope with that...and the more he thought about it, the less he was certain that he *could* chop Tony's hand off, even if it was the only way to save his life. There had to be another way...some other alternative.

McGee knew that a one-handed Tony was better than a dead one, but taking a closer look a the axe, he saw that it was so blunt and rusty that it might not even do the job and would simply smash Tony's wrist...

At that, McGee's mind started going into overdrive. Maybe, just maybe there was a chance...if Tony's hand could somehow be made to fold itself a little...if the bones were broken just right....then maybe, just maybe he'd be able to squeeze the hand through the cuffs. It was worth a shot thought McGee as he pushed open the door.

He could only see two problems with his plan. Well, three if you counted the fact that it might not work and that the time taken to even try it could delay him so long that even cutting Tony's hand wouldn't free him in time to prevent them both being burnt to a crisp.

The other problems with the plan were simple. For one thing, this was going to hurt Tony...a lot. Chopping the hand off should be a single blow, but to break the hand, that was going to require repeated blows, and McGee wasn't sure that he could bear to inflict that much pain on the man he loved, over and over again. Even if it was a case of saving his life, McGee knew that a single cry of pain from Tony and he'd be dropping the axe and lucky not to lose his lunch into the process.

The other problem with the plan ...Tony would probably never agree to it, for the simple reason that it would take time...time they might not have if they were both to escape the burning building.

Fortunately however, there was a course of action that McGee could take that would negate both these problems...

McGee hurried into the room. Luckily Tony had focused his attention on trying to pull the handcuff from the radiator and he didn't notice as McGee approached him, fire axe held firmly in his hands.

Before McGee could talk himself out of his chosen course of action, he raised the axe...and clubbed Tony on the side of the head with the handle.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

"I'm really, really sorry I knocked you out like that," said McGee. He held Tony's hand clasped firmly in his, and as he spoke he dropped a kiss onto the back of it. "But I knew you wouldn't let me try and get you free like that. So once I'd checked I hadn't killed you with the blow to your head....I...I smashed up your hand with the axe handle."

Tony was looking at McGee with wide eyes. "You...you hit me on the head?"

McGee nodded and continued, "It was the only way I could think of...and I'd called the fire brigade but I knew they'd never get there in time, and the smoke was coming in the door and it was getting hotter and the fire was getting closer...and I hit your hand again and I just couldn't get your hand free...and I finally had to cut you a little so the blood would help lube the cuffs...and then they just suddenly slid off..."

Tony's mouth had fallen open at this part, "You...you mean...I...I still have my hand?" His voice cracked slightly on the words.

McGee nodded, "It...it's badly smashed up. They had an Orthopedic surgeon operate on you...I think he put some pins in or something, I don't know if they'll be permanent or not...but you still have your hand."

Tony pulled his left hand free from McGee's and started fumbling at the straps on the sling. "I need...need to see it," he said, almost choking on the words. "Please Tim...help me..."
The beeping on the monitor reflected how agitated Tony was getting as McGee quickly moved to the other side of the bed. "Here, let me," he said, supporting the limb with one hand, while he deftly undid the straps with the other and let the canvas fall away.

Tony gulped back a sob as he saw the hand he'd thought he'd never see again. True, it was so wrapped up in bandages and splints that all he could see were the tips of his fingers, but it was there, and even though it hurt like hell and took a great deal of effort, Tony even managed to wiggle his fingers slightly.

McGee replaced the sling around Tony's arm and then retook his original seat as Tony slumped back against the bed, trying to absorb what had happened. "I...I don't know what to say," said Tony, weakly. "You saved my hand..."

"Dr. McNeill said that you'll need a lot of physiotherapy on it, and he couldn't guarantee that you'd get anything like 100% function in it again," warned McGee, not wanting to give Tony false hope.

"Whatever it is...it'll still be better than zero, which is what I'd have got if you'd a chopped it off." Tony wiped his hand across his eyes as he continued, "You can't imagine how grateful I am for that." He took a deep breath and a small grin flashed across his face as he continued, "So much so, that I'm not going to write you up for disobeying a direct order..."

McGee replied in all seriousness, "Write me up all you want...just so long as you do it with *that* hand."

--------------------------

to be continued

Title: Desperate Measures
Chapter: 05/07
Author: Ceindreadh
Email: Ceindreadh@eircom.net
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/hurt & comfort
Pairing/Characters: Tony DiNozzo/Tim McGee
Rating: FRT
Warnings: violence/Tony bashing
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

Previously on NCIS. A perp handcuffed Tony to a radiator in a burning building. McGee had to break Tony's wrist and hand in order to free him. Tony came to in hospital and originally thought that McGee had - as ordered - chopped his hand off to rescue him.

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"Whatever it is...it'll still be better than zero, which is what I'd have got if you'd a chopped it off." Tony wiped his hand across his eyes as he continued, "You can't imagine how grateful I am for that." He took a deep breath and a small grin flashed across his face as he continued, "So much so, that I'm not going to write you up for disobeying a direct order..."

McGee replied in all seriousness, "Write me up all you want...just so long as you do it with *that* hand."

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[Part 05]

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Tony reached out and stroked the side of McGee's face. McGee caught the hand and held it against his cheek for a few seconds before turning his head and kissing the inside of Tony's wrist. "I wish there'd been another way," he said softly. "I never wanted to have to hurt you."

Tony pulled his hand away and swatted McGee weakly on the back of the head.

"What was that for?" McGee asked indignantly.

"What have I told you about second guessing yourself, *Probie*! You made the best choice you could under less than ideal circumstances. And I promise you, whatever the outcome had been...I'd have stood by your decision...because...because I know you'd have made the one you thought was best."

"DiNozzo has a point...for a change."

At the sound of Gibbs's voice, both men jumped. Tony shot a quick "How long has he been there?" glance at McGee, but Tim just mouthed, "It's okay" back at him.

"Guess I should have brought three cups of coffee today," Gibbs added, as he moved over to the bed and handed one coffee to McGee. "But then I wasn't sure if you'd be still pulling your 'Sleeping Beauty' routine or not." Although Gibbs's tone gave nothing away, it was clear from the look on his face as he cast a watchful eye over Tony that he was much relieved that the younger man had finally woken up.

"How long was I out, Boss?" Tony was hoping that Gibbs hadn't been there long enough to see him touching McGee's face that way. It wasn't that he was ashamed of being with Tim, far from it, but he was aware of Gibbs's 'rule #12' and he didn't want either of them to get in trouble. Maybe he could blame it on whatever drugs he was being given...yeah right. The best thing was to maybe act as if nothing had happened and see what Gibbs did.

"It's been three days since you were admitted," said Gibbs, taking a swig of his coffee. "You've been in and out of consciousness for most of the time. The Doc said you were going to be fine, just needed time for your body to recover." He took another swig of coffee. "Of course I told him you were just being lazy." He grinned at Tony.

"Yep," said Tony, a little less tense now that Gibbs didn't seem to going to say anything about him and McGee. Maybe he'd only come into the room *after* he'd taken his hand away. Yeah, that had to be it. Tim wasn't looking worried, so that had to mean he knew Gibbs couldn't have seen anything, thought Tony. Cause Tim would be wetting his pants right about now if he'd thought Gibbs had caught them doing something they shouldn't. "I suppose all the reports have been typed up, right Boss?" he asked a little hopefully.

"You really think a broken hand is excuse enough to get out of typing reports, DiNozzo?" Gibbs landed a very gentle swat on Tony's head. "No chance. I expect you to be back at work as soon as the Doc clears you." He leaned in close to Tony's face and said in menacing tones. "And *this* time, you *will* remain on sick leave for as long as your Doctor deems necessary. Is that clear?"

"Um, crystal clear, Boss," replied Tony.

"Good," said Gibbs. "McGee," he barked, "Go home and rest, that's an order. The doc's are going to be all over Tony now that he's awake, so they won't let you stay anyway, and by God you look as if you could do with the rest. I'll drive you home."

"Yes Boss," said McGee, "I'll just be a minute."

"DiNozzo, you rest as well, that's an order. I'll be taking a statement from you in the morning, so I'd advise you to get your beauty sleep."

"Sure thing, Boss." Tony waited until Gibbs had left the room, before taking McGee's hand in his. "Whew, thought he'd caught us there for a minute."

"It's okay, Tony," said McGee, taking a sip of the coffee. "Gibbs already knows." The sudden tightening of Tony's hand on his, nearly made him choke on his drink.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

McGee's hands were shaking as he sat in the waiting room. The last few hours had been a nightmare.

After finally getting Tony out of the handcuffs, he had managed to drag him out of the room and down the hallway. But by the time they had reached the stairs, the fire was raging out of control, and their escape route was cut off. McGee had been forced to drag Tony back down the corridor, searching frantically for a room with a fire escape.

The smoke had been getting thicker and McGee's eyes were streaming by the time he'd finally found what he'd been looking for.

But the fire escape was rusty and looked barely able to hold a single person's weight, let alone two and McGee wasn't sure that he'd be able to carry Tony safely down what steps remained in the ladders. Unfortunately there was no other choice and McGee heaved Tony out onto the metal platform, hoping that this would at least buy them enough time until the fire brigade arrived. He tried dialing 911 again, but his hands had been cut when smashing through the window and McGee could only watch as the phone slipped out of his grip and went crashing to the ground below. "Hold on, Tony," he said to his unconscious partner as he held him tightly. "Fire brigade will be here soon."

The firemen had indeed arrived in the nick of time. Flames were licking round the edges of the window as McGee and Tony were loaded into the cherry picker and brought to safety. McGee had refused to let Tony out of his sight as the paramedics took over and even when they reached the E.R., he still wouldn't leave.

It took a direct order from Gibbs before McGee allowed himself to be led away and examined for injuries, and even then, as soon as the Doctor had cleared him, he had hurried upstairs to wait until Tony came out of surgery.

"Here McGee, you look as if you need it."

McGee looked up to see Gibbs holding out a cup of coffee. He took it, his hands shaking so much that he nearly spilled it. "Tha...thanks Boss," he said, sipping it slowly.

"What did the Doctor say?" asked Gibbs as he sat down beside McGee.

"It's too early to tell if they'll be able to save his hand," McGee, swallowed hard. "The surgeon said he'd do his best...but there was so much damage..."

"I wasn't talking about DiNozzo's doctor, what did *your* doctor say?"

"What? Oh...oh, I'm fine...just some cuts and burns on my hands...a little smoke in my lungs. I'm fine, really."

A door was pushed open at the end of the corridor, and McGee looked up hopefully, only to be disappointed when the surgeon that came through passed by without looking at him.

"It could be another few hours before DiNozzo is out of surgery," said Gibbs, watching McGee carefully. "And even then, it'll be hours before he's able to talk. You should go home and get some rest, maybe get cleaned up a bit."

McGee absently brushed at some smoke stains on his jacket. "If it's all the same, I...I'd rather stay...at least until I know To...DiNozzo's going to be okay."

"You did what you had to do, McGee."

McGee shook his head, "I should have been able to do more...I messed up Boss, I shouldn't have let Tony go in alone."

"Tony's a big boy now, he can make his own decisions. Just like you have to." Gibbs took a swig of his coffee before adding. "You know the real reason behind rule twelve...it's so that you'll never be put in the position of having to make a decision like that about somebody you care that much about."

McGee had just taken a mouthful of coffee as Gibbs said this. He couldn't have looked more like a rabbit caught in the headlights if he'd had big furry ears and whiskers.

"Either spit or swallow, McGee."

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"You gonna spit or swallow that, McGee?" Tony asked lazily as McGee lifted his head. Not that he really cared much one way or the other...not after that mind blowing blow job that Tim had just given him.

McGee reached for a towel and wiped it across his mouth before using it to clean up Tony. Then he crawled back up the bed and pulled the bedclothes up to cover their naked bodies. This was the best bit as far as he was concerned. Not that he didn't enjoy the sex...far from it...sex with Tony was the best he'd ever had. But it was these shared moments after sex, when the warm glow hadn't faded yet. These were the moments when Tony was at his most open, and a question asked now would get a more serious and honest answer than at any other time.

"So, how would you rate my performance out of ten *this* time?" teased McGee, even as he gently stroked Tony's chest.

"Ooh, I don't know Tim, I think I lost track of the marks I was giving...maybe I need an action replay just to make sure I'm not marking you down." Tony laughed, and then yelped as McGee pulled a little too hard on his chest hair. "Okay okay, it's ten out of ten...again!"

"Good."

"Well I think that your continuing expertise in the subject is really down to the excellent tuition you've been getting." Tony leaned over and kissed McGee on the nose.

"Hmph, well you certainly don't get ten out of ten for modesty."

Tony flashed a grin at McGee before leaning back against the pillows. "Some days I can't believe how lucky I am to have you."

McGee propped himself up on one elbow and looked at Tony. "Really? But you could have any guy or girl you wanted?"

"But I don't want anybody else...just you." Tony reached up and stroked McGee's face. "I never thought you'd be interested in a guy like me...somebody who barely knows how to turn on a computer."

McGee took Tony's hand and kissed it. "And I thought you were just interested in anybody you could charm into bed with the least effort possible. It wasn't until..." his voice trailed off.

"Until when?"

"Until that day on the rooftop...when I heard the shot...all I could think about was whether you were okay."

Tony pulled McGee into an embrace. "I was just so glad that you hadn't been there. All I could think of while looking at Kate was thank God it hadn't been you."

"I don't think I could bear seeing you hurt."

"I don't think I could bear seeing me hurt either." Tony squeezed McGee tighter.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

To be continued

Nearly there gentle readers, and I'd just like to thank everybody who's stuck with it so far. We're on the home stretch now, only one more part to go which I should be posting in the next 24 hours.
Enjoy!

Title: Desperate Measures
Chapter: 06/07
Author: Ceindreadh
Email: Ceindreadh@eircom.net
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
Warnings: slash and violence, oh my!
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

Previously on NCIS. Tony followed a suspect named Andrews, into a building. Andrews got the drop on him and handcuffed him to a radiator before setting the building on fire. McGee showed up in the nick of time but was forced to smash Tony's hand in order to free him from the cuffs.
Later in the hospital, McGee told Tony that Gibbs already knew about their relationship.

Desperate measures



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"Either spit or swallow, McGee."

McGee's mouth was nearly burnt by the coffee by now, but he quickly swallowed it down. "I...I...Boss, it...we..."

"Don't worry, McGee, you're not in trouble."

"Boss, I swear we've never let it interfere with our work."

"I know that McGee," interrupted Gibbs. "That's why I never said anything. Heck, if anything your work has improved. DiNozzo's reports were certainly never as coherent and prompt before he started getting you to write them."

"I don't write them, Boss, I mean, that is, I *type* them up, but Tony tells me exactly what to put in."

"Easy there, like I said, I know it hasn't affected your work...until today."

McGee's heart sank...this was it...now Gibbs was going to read him the riot act...and the worst thing was, he totally deserved it. Somebody who hadn't been sleeping with Tony would have made a different choice...the *right* choice...

"I'm sorry, Boss," said McGee. "I...I know I screwed up. And I fully accept whatever reprimands or punishments you want to dole out."

"I've already told you, McGee. You didn't screw up. You made the best choice you could under the circumstances, but it *was* influenced by your relationship with Tony, wasn't it?"

McGee nodded his head slowly. "I...I couldn't do it Boss...I mean, I kept thinking how much it'd hurt him...and then if he lost his hand he'd lose his job and he loves being an agent and I couldn't take that away from him...even if there was only a small chance to save his hand...I...I had to take it..."

"You should never have been put in that sort of position. *Nobody* should have to make a decision like that about somebody they're intimate with." Gibbs took another drink of his coffee.

"I swear it won't happen again. I...I'll transfer to another team...another posting."

"Oh you can be sure it won't happen again. Look McGee, I have no problem with you and Tony being together. I think you're good for each other. And I have no problem with you both working on my team, because you're both damn good agents, and I've no intention of losing either of you." Gibbs knocked back the last of the coffee. "But I'm damned if I'll ever send the two of you out in the field alone together again."

"Boss?"

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"So I mean he didn't seem pissed off or anything," said McGee, "And he hasn't really mentioned it since and he's even been bringing me coffee and everything while I've been waiting here."

"Maybe he's just lulling you into a false sense of security, and then *bam*..." Tony yawned involuntarily and could feel his eyes closing. He forced them open again. "What...what about Andrews?" he mumbled tiredly.

"Don't worry about him," said McGee, "He won't be bothering anybody...not anymore..."

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

McGee had driven the car around the back of the building and then around again, but there was no sign of either Tony or Andrews. He cursed under his breath as he pulled in to the curb, wondering what to do next. Just as he was about to phone Tony, he saw Andrews come running out of the front door of the building and heading straight for the alleyway where he'd parked earlier. There was no sign of Tony, and McGee bit his lip, wondering what to do next. Finally he climbed out of the car, and gun at the ready, made his way cautiously over to the alley.

Keeping close to the wall, McGee glanced down the alley. Andrews was busy removing bags from the back seat of the car. Even as McGee watched, one of them fell and split open, spilling wads of cash out onto the ground.

That was enough for McGee. Raising his weapon he stepped into view. "Federal Agent," he called, "Step away from the vehicle and put your hands in the air."

Andrews whirled around grabbing for his gun. McGee instinctively pulled his trigger. Andrews's gun went flying through the air, and Andrews himself collapsed to the ground clutching his hand. "You bastard, you shot me!" he groaned as McGee approached, still covering him.

"Yeah, well you tried to shoot me!" snapped McGee, trying to hide how surprised he was at actually having hit Andrews. True, he'd been aiming for a body shot, but nobody needed to know *that*.
"Where's Tony...Agent DiNozzo?" asked McGee, circling around Andrews.

"Who?"

"He followed you into the house."

"Oh...you mean that dumb agent who tried to catch me?" Andrews laughed through his pain. "Well let's see...right about now, I think he'll be starting to feel the heat..." There was a sudden explosion from the building.

McGee gasped in shock, "You left him in there?"

"Yeah...and he's gonna be burning up real soon if you don't go and rescue him...except of course then you'll have to let me go...so what's it gonna be? Me or him..."

"Both," snapped McGee. He grabbed Andrews by his good hand, and forced a handcuff around it. The other cuff got snapped around the inner handle of the car door. Just to make sure, McGee grabbed the car keys from the ignition and shoved them into his pocket. "The cops will be here soon," he said, "So will the fire brigade. You won't get away with this."

"Bastard!" screamed Andrews.

McGee could hear the rattling of the handcuff chain as he rounded the corner. He stayed on the street long enough to contact the emergency services, then taking a deep breath...he ran into the by now burning building.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

"My...my hero," mumbled Tony weakly. "So...so Andrews...he's in custody?"

"Ah...not exactly," said McGee, a little shame faced. "You see, the building was on fire...and the car was pretty close to it, and...and it looks like some debris got carried by the wind and landed on the car...set it on fire..."

Tony's eyes widened, "You...you mean..."

McGee nodded, "The cops showed up just after the petrol tank had blown. Andrews...or what was left of him, he's in a drawer down in Autopsy now. Ducky and Palmer did a very thorough post mortem on him. Like I said, he won't be bothering anybody...not anymore."

Tony couldn't help but laugh, "Talk...talk about poe...poetic justice..."

McGee leaned down and kissed him on the lips. "Now you do as Gibbs said and rest."

"Only...only if you rest as well..."

"I promise, as soon as you're asleep I'll go home."

Tony nodded tiredly and let his eyes close. The last thing he heard was McGee saying softly. "I love you Tony."

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To be concluded

Thanks to everybody who stuck with this all the way.
I hope you enjoyed reading it as much I enjoyed writing it

Title: Desperate Measures
Chapter: 07/07
Author: Ceindreadh
Email: Ceindreadh@eircom.net
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
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

Previously on NCIS
Tony was handcuffed to a radiator in a burning building. McGee had to break his hand to free him. Gibbs knew about their relationship but had no problem with them being together.

Desperate measures

McGee leaned down and kissed him on the lips. "Now you do as Gibbs said and rest."

"Only...only if you rest as well..."

"I promise, as soon as you're asleep I'll go home."

Tony nodded tiredly and let his eyes close. The last thing he heard was McGee saying softly. "I love you Tony."

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[Part 07 new break]

"Is he asleep?" Gibbs asked as McGee closed the door to Tony's room.

"Looks like it, Boss," McGee heaved a sigh of relief, "I thought...I was afraid he wouldn't..."

"Easy there, McGee," said Gibbs, reassuringly. "You heard what the doctor said, Tony *is* going to recover."

"I know Boss, but his hand...he might never use it again, and it's all my fault. I should have thought of something else. Maybe the axe would have cut the chain, maybe I could have shot it off...he's lying there in that hospital bed and he might never use his hand again and it's all my fault." The words all came out in a rush, "And he thanked me, Boss, he thanked me for smashing up his hand and if you'd been there you'd have figured out a way to save it and..."

"MCGEE!" Gibbs had to resort to yelling to get McGee to shut up. "Do you know what would have happened if I'd been the one trying to get Tony out of there?"

McGee shook his head.

"I wouldn't have wasted time trying to break the handcuff chain. Trust me, it's hard enough even under the best of conditions with plenty of time, let alone when you're trapped in a burning building. No, I would have chopped Tony's hand off without a second thought if it was the difference between life or death. And maybe the surgeons could have sewn it back on again...or maybe he'd have bled out before he'd gotten to the hospital."

Gibbs paused to let his words sink in before he continued, "But I wasn't the one who had to make that choice. For better or for worse, you made what *you* felt was the best choice, and you and Tony are going to have to find a way to deal with it. I won't lie to you Tim. I've been speaking to Ducky and I know that Tony's recovery isn't going to be an easy one."

Gibbs put up his hand to stop McGee interrupting. "I'm not just talking physically. He's going to be going through a hell of rough time psychologically as well, and your relationship could take a beating. You need to be prepared for the fact that there'll be times when he'll resent you for saving his life, when he'll wish that you'd let him die in that building rather than committing him to a life with a possibly useless hand. It's going to be rough ride for both of you, and if you're not up for total commitment to him while he's recovering to whatever level of fitness he can attain...well then you're far better off telling him now, rather than waiting until he's depending on you and then leaving him a Dear John letter for when he comes home from PT one day." Gibbs caught himself but the look of dawning comprehension on McGee's face told him he'd said too much.

"Boss?"

"Yeah, McGee, ex-wife number 1. You can ask Ducky about her someday, but tell him to give you the abbreviated version otherwise you'll be there all night."

"I...yes, okay Boss."

"Come on then, time to get you home. You'll be no use to Tony if you're not rested."

"I'm okay," McGee started to say, but a yawn escaped him. The last few days, he had been by Tony's side almost constantly, snatching what little rest he could on a hospital chair. The vigil had taken its toll, and now that McGee's patience had been rewarded, his body had decided that enough was enough. He was dimly aware of Gibbs guiding him out of the hospital and to his car.

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Gibbs was right...as usual. Tony's recovery wasn't an easy one. He was stubborn and impatient and unaware of his own limitations...pretty much as everybody expected. Doctor McNeill had threatened to tie him to the bed if he tried getting up and about before he was fit.
McGee had threatened the same thing...although his threat was less of a stick and more of a carrot.

When he was finally released from hospital, Tony as usual insisted on returning to work long before being cleared by his doctor.

Gibbs hadn't tried to stop him this time, "He's probably better off here anyway," he'd told McGee in between coffees. "Besides, you really want a bored DiNozzo hanging round your place with all your machines?"

Granted, Tony spent considerable periods of time resting on Abby's futon with Bert for company, but being back at work - even if just on desk duty - was more of a tonic than any number of tablets and therapy.

The therapy was not optional. Physical therapy one thing, Tony had known it would be a long road to getting back the use of his hand. But it was the psychological counseling that Gibbs had ordered him to attend...that was a different story.

"I don't need a shrink," he'd complained when Gibbs had dropped the referral letter on his desk.

"That's debatable," said Gibbs, "But these sessions aren't. I don't want you cracking up with undiagnosed P.T.S.D. or crap like that. You do these sessions, get what's inside your head all straightened out and then you get back in the field. It's not negotiable."

"But Boss!" Tony had protested.

Gibbs had leaned over Tony's desk and for a second Tony thought he was going to yell in his face, but instead he just said softly, "These sessions aren't just for you...they're for McGee as well. I've seen enough relationships screwed up because of a traumatic injury to one or other of the partners...I am not going to see you and McGee be casualties."

And that was it, because when Gibbs gave an order like that, you didn't argue. And while Tony still didn't think he'd needed it, he had to admit that sometimes it was good to be able to vent his frustrations on a therapist rather than dumping them on McGee.

And frustrations there were. The physical therapy was hard...and made all the harder by Tony's insistence on pushing himself to the limit. At times Tony would look at his hand, just willing it to magically be as strong and flexible as it had been before the incident...and a part of him would be thinking he'd never be able to fire a gun with it again...never be able to pick out a tune on a piano...never be able to run those fingers all over McGee's body with any degree of dexterity.

There were times when Tony wondered what was the point...why hadn't the doc just hacked off the rest of his hand rather than trying to patch it up. There had even been a time when he had taken his frustrations out on McGee, telling him that he should have left him to die in the fire rather than condemning him to live half crippled.
It had been after *that* incident that Tony and McGee had started attending joint counseling sessions.

But slowly, little by little, things started to improve. And one day, several months after his injury, Tony's friends and colleagues gathered by his desk to watch as Gibbs handed him his gun, following his successful requalification on the firing range. True, his scores hadn't been quite as good as before his injury, and he *was* using both hands more often than just one, but he was back.

And yes, his hand was covered with scars, some of which might never fade. Equally true, he was never likely to play professional piano. But he could still pick out a tune without hitting too many wrong notes, and McGee had certainly had no complaints the previous night when Tony had tapped out a lengthy opus of love all over his body...using *both* hands...his tongue...and other parts of his anatomy.

"Guys," said Tony, "And gals...it's good to be back."

And it was.

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THE END