Title: Brothers in Arms 3/4
Author: Ceindreadh
Email: Ceindreadh@eircom.net
Website: n/a
Permission to archive: Yes to WWOMB, anybody else, please ask first.
Summary: Tim needs to deal with the aftermath of Probie
Warnings: spoilers for Probie
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 title suggestions. Also thanks to Lynda and MJM from the specialops chats for advice regarding guns and guns handling (even if I didn't use as much of it as I thought I would)
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Previously on NCIS. Tony took Tim to a firing range to help him get his confidence back before he was due to be recertified for fieldwork.
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Tony gave Tim a few seconds to compose himself before leading him back to the gun table. "Come on kid, let's give it another go. Hey, you didn't happen to bring your manuscript with you?"
Tim looked at Tony suspiciously, "No, of course not, why?"
"Ah, just a little trick I picked up from Gibbs, never mind. Now, get that gun loaded."
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Part 03
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It had been a long day thought Tony as he drove back to the city. And not entirely as successful as he had hoped. Okay, he *had* managed to get McGee's target scores up to what would be a more than passing grade if he could reproduce them on Monday. And at least his hands weren't shaking when he picked up his weapon any more. But Tony knew that it was one thing to be able to fire a weapon at a paper target on a firing range. Once you were out in the field and firing at targets that not only didn't stand there waiting for you to aim but also started firing back, well that was a whole different ball game.
Tony had done his best. His friend Danny who owned the firing range had had one of those target alley's set up. It wasn't anything fancy; just some cardboard cutouts that swung into view at random intervals. The trick was to hit only the 'bad' targets and to try and avoid shooting the 'good' ones. Of course in the split second when a target appeared, it wasn't always easy to judge whether it was a 'good' or 'bad' one. So Tony had cheated a bit. He'd had Danny change the settings to make the targets swing into view just a little slower than usual so that Tim would have that much more time to decide whether to shoot or not. It was for his own good, Tony had told himself. This was about getting Tim's confidence back. Once that was sorted out they could work on his reaction times.
It had seemed to be working. Tim had made his way down the fake street, firing at every target that came into view. He hadn't hit all of them of course, but he hadn't fired on any 'good' guys either.
And then came the last target, a man holding up a badge...and that was when Tim froze completely.
Tony cursed himself for not having Danny remove that particular target. It had taken another long session on the standard firing range before Tim had agreed to try the target alley again. It was only when it had gotten too dark to shoot safely that Tony called a halt to the proceedings.
"We'll come back again tomorrow, okay Tim? You've got the hang of it," he added reassuringly, "All you need is more practice. You need to feel as if your gun is a part of you, as natural a tool to use as a knife and fork."
"Yeah, whatever," said Tim, quietly as he unloaded the gun and held it out to Tony.
"Nu-uh, McGee," said Tony. "You're gonna hang on to that gun for now. I want you to wear it 24/7 until you pass your test on Monday. You're going to eat with it, sleep with it under your pillow. That gun is going to be your best friend."
Tim looked at him suspiciously, "You want me to sleep with a gun?"
"Well you don't have to hold on to it all night like Ziva does," Tony shuddered involuntarily before continuing, "But it should be within easy reach of you at all times."
He took the gun from McGee's hands, "And it should be loaded. An unloaded gun is just a paperweight. Worse, cause people don't shoot at you for carrying a paperweight...unless it's one of those real ugly type ones, or one that looks like a gun."
He could see Tim looking at him skeptically. "Look, it's like driving a car. You don't think about signals or lights or anything, you want to make a right turn, you just do it."
"Tony, I crashed the first car I ever owned."
"Okay, okay, bad analogy."
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Tony glanced over at Tim as he drove. The younger agent was even quieter than he had been on the outward journey. While Tony didn't usually mind the sound of his own voice, he was wishing that McGee would say something, *anything*. But instead McGee was just staring out the window, his hands rubbing involuntarily at the blisters he'd made from pulling the trigger so often over the past few hours.
Finally Tony couldn't stand it any longer. He swerved quickly and pulled into the parking lot of a service station.
McGee looked up at him in surprise.
"We need gas, and I need food," announced Tony. "You want coffee or anything else?"
Tim shook his head slowly. "I'll just use the restroom." He pulled on the door handle.
"Hey kid," Tony put his hand on McGee's shoulder. "I don't care what you say, Tim. I *know* that you can be a good field agent. That's why I've been pushing you so hard today. Heck, Gibbs's knows it too, otherwise he wouldn't be pushing you to get recertified."
Tim looked Tony in the eye, "Did it ever occur to you that maybe Gibbs could be wrong?"
Tony shook his head, "Gibbs is never wrong...okay, maybe he's screwed up a few times in his personal life, but when it comes to the job, he doesn't make mistakes."
"He didn't kill Ari when he had the chance." Tim was out of the car and the door shut before Tony had a chance to respond.
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Tony filled up the gas tank and headed into the shop to pay. "Hey there," he called to the man behind the counter. "Pump number five, I'm just gonna get some coffee's as well."
Even as he was speaking, Tony could sense that something was, to use Abby's phrase, 'a little hinky'. There was a chick standing to one side of the counter, a pretty enough young thing, but looking scared...very very scared. Tony could see that the cash register was open and the service station owner was looking equally as scared at the girl. Both of them were looking towards Tony as if he were a rattlesnake about to pounce, but then Tony sensed rather than heard a movement behind him.
He whirled around instantly, bringing his gun to bear on the man standing in the aisle behind him. "Federal Agent," said Tony, "Keep your hands where I can see them."
Tony could see a gun sticking out of the guy's waistband, "Trust me kid, you'll never make it. And if I have to shoot you then there'll be all kinds of reports to fill in and that'd really spoil what's left of my weekend. So just put your hands in the air, nice and slow."
The kid obeyed as Tony ordered him to kneel on the ground. He stepped over to him, keeping an eye out for any movement in the store, but it looked like there were just the four of them. Tony quickly searched the kid, removing the gun from the kid's waistband and slotting on the safety catch before tucking it into his own pocket.
Straightening up, Tony backed away from the guy on the ground, keeping him covered. "I think it's time we called in the cops to deal with this dirt bag," he said. "Sir, do you have a phone?" He turned a fraction to glance at the storeowner, only to yelp in pain as a glass bottle smashed into the side of his head.
Blood mingled with wine and poured down the side of Tony's face as he slumped to the ground. The last thing he saw before he passed out was the so-called 'scared girl', the remains of the wine bottle in her hand, reaching down to pick up the gun from his suddenly nerveless fingers.
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To be continued
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Notes - If the hold up scene seems a little familiar, yes I *was* just a little inspired by a similar scene in MH's final appearance on the West Wing.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Tony's efforts to help Tim don't go quite according to plan