Chapter Text
Brothers in Arms
by Ceindreadh
"I'll handle it, Boss"
The sound of his landline ringing roused Tim from his bed in the early hours of a Saturday morning. Not that he had been sleeping...lying awake and staring at the ceiling had been all the rest he had gotten in the last few hours. Every night in the last week, he had fallen asleep only to wake from dreams of the shooting. Every night he replayed the scene in his mind, hoping that just this once he could make a difference...that maybe *this* would be the time when he managed to hold off on firing until he had assessed the situation properly. But it never happened, and Tim knew that even if he could change it in his dreams, it wouldn't change the reality of the situation. He had killed a man.
It didn't matter that Abby hadn't been able to tell for sure whether his had been the fatal bullet or not, he had still fired at somebody who hadn't deserved to be shot, and even if his bullet had passed harmlessly passed the guy, it still didn't change the fact that he had pulled the trigger with the intention of hitting his target.
It was that as much as anything that kept Tim awake after his nightmares. He knew that his work was being affected, as much by his disrupted sleep patterns as the guilt that was eating away at him. It was only a matter of time before Gibbs gave him his walking papers. He had seen Gibbs coming towards his desk, a look of thunder on his face, and if it hadn't been for Tony needing to speak to him about a cold case, Tim was sure that it would have been his last day as an agent.
But by the time Gibbs had come back from looking at the new evidence Tony had shown him, it was nearly time to finish work and he hadn't said anything. But Tim knew that by Monday he'd surely be clearing out his desk.
The landline had stopped ringing by now, and Tim buried his head in the pillow. But the silence was broken a few seconds later by the sound of his mobile.
Pulling the phone into his line of vision, Tim groaned as he saw Tony's name come up. He knew he could just let it go to the answering machine, but Tony was the persistent type and Tim knew from experience that he'd just keep calling and calling until he got through.
Sighing, Tim pressed the button. "Tony," he said, his voice flat and emotionless. "What do you want at 5am on a Saturday? Lose your keys down your date's dress again?"
"Hey, that only happened once, McGee, and boy, the search was worth it!"
"So what is it then?"
"Get dressed. I'll be outside your place in ten minutes."
"Tony, it's Saturday."
"Nine minutes, McGee, and dress casual." The connection was broken and Tim lay there looking at the phone for a few seconds. All he wanted to do was curl back up under the bedclothes and pretend that the whole of the last week hadn't happened...that he hadn't fired upon an undercover cop...that he hadn't killed a man whose only crime had been being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
But with Tony going to be showing up at his door in, Tim checked his watch, eight minutes, retreating back under the bedclothes was not an option. DiNozzo was just as likely to pick the lock again and start insulting his living quarters, and somehow Tim just didn't feel up to it...not today...and maybe not ever.
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Seven minutes later, Tim was outside his apartment block, shivering slightly in the pre-dawn chill. " He pulled his jacket closer around him wondering just what case it was that had necessitated them coming in to work so early. "Must be pretty urgent," he thought, "Especially if they're scraping the bottom of the barrel and calling *me* in."
The beep of a horn alerted him to Tony's imminent arrival. Tim barely had time to fasten his seat belt before Tony took off.
"You look like crap, McGee," was Tony's first comment.
"Good morning to you too, Tony," snapped Tim.
"Hey, take it easy there, kiddo," Tony glanced sideways at McGee as he drove. "You been sleeping all right?"
Tim shifted uneasily in his seat. Tony always seemed to have this unerring ability to read him like a book. And while his interrogation skills might not be as good as Gibbs, he was persistent enough to not stop until he got his answers. "It's a lot easier to sleep when people don't keep phoning you."
"Try and catch some shut eye now," advised Tony. "There's plenty of time, and you'll probably need it."
Tim eyed him suspiciously. "We're only twenty minutes from NCIS...fifteen the way you drive..."
"Oh, did I say we were heading for the office? My bad."
Tim waited, but Tony didn't continue, so eventually he asked, "So where *are* we heading?"
- - - - - - - - - - - - -
Tony looked up and saw Gibbs walking through the office with a face like thunder. He knew what it had to be about. Standard NCIS policy after a fatal shooting, no matter what the circumstances, was that the agent in question had to be recertified on the firing range before they'd be reissued with their weapon. It was usually just a formality...you showed up, fired off a few rounds, and so long as your percentages were reasonable enough you got your gun back. Easy peasy, no problem. All an agent needed to do was to be able to get back on their horse and keep going. But for some agents, that proved more difficult than for others.
Tony had asked Martin, the firing range supervisor, to let him know when McGee had completed his recertification. He'd been planning on showing up to the kid's place with pizza to celebrate...but so far, the celebration had had to be put on hold. Tony didn't mind, he was a patient guy, but it was obvious from the look on Gibbs's face that *his* patience had run out. Martin had given Tony a heads up a few minutes earlier. "DiNozzo, better watch your step. Gibbs was down here earlier, checking up on your Probie, and he wasn't too happy to find he hadn't shown up yet."
Tony somehow hadn't been all that surprised. He knew that the shooting was weighing on McGee's mind, and he'd been doing his best to ease things for him. But something drastic was going to have to be done, and *soon*, if McGee was to have a future as an agent.
"Boss," called Tony, grabbing a random file from his desk and moving to intercept Gibbs before he could reach McGee's desk. "I got a cold case here, there's some evidence I need you to take a look at." He could see Gibbs's mouth open to say something and he quickly continued, "It's really important, Boss." He mouthed, "Please" to Gibbs, and almost imperceptibly, jerked his head towards the elevator.
"Okay," growled Gibbs, and turned towards the elevators.
Inside his 'conference room', Gibbs waited until the car had slown to a stop before he turned to Tony, "This had better be good, DiNozzo."
"It's about McGee," said Tony, quickly. "I know you're going to give him a hard time about the firing range."
"Ya think? Give me one good reason why I *shouldn't* give him a hard time? If he wants to be a special agent, he has to be prepared to use his weapon. If he can't pull his gun when needed, then there's no place for him in the field."
"I know, Boss, I know. I just...I don't think that having you yell at him is going to fix things."
"Do you have a better idea?" Gibbs voice was calm and even, but Tony knew that he wasn't happy.
"I...Boss, just let me handle it, okay? I know McGee; I know what makes him tick. Let me try and sort him out. Just give me some time."
"You have the weekend, Tony. I'm taking McGee down to the firing range on Monday, and if he can't get himself recertified then...he's off the team."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
"A firing range," Tim looked at Tony in disbelief. "Why the hell are you taking me to a firing range?"
"Why do you think, Tim?" Tony's voice was gentle but firm.
"No, NO, I won't do it Tony." Tim's fists were clenched, "Stop the car or turn around. I'm not doing it."
Tony pulled over the car, grabbing Tim by the arm, as the younger man was about to reach for the door. "Tim," he said, looking him in the eyes. "Do you want to be an NCIS special agent?"
Tim swallowed hard, "Yes...no...I don't know, Tony...I just know that I don't think I can ever trust myself to fire a gun again."
"That's what today is for. Tim, even if you never fire your weapon in anger again. Even if you quit NCIS tomorrow and go to work for some fancy computer company. If that's what you want, then that's up to you. But I don't want you making that decision because you feel you don't have a choice. Let me help you Tim. Spend the day with me at my friend's firing range. Get back your confidence and your aim and pass your recertification on Monday. And then if you still can't face being in the field...well that'll be your choice, not something that was forced upon you. Will you at least try?"
Tim was silent for a few minutes before he replied, "Do I really have a choice?"
The grin was back on Tony's face as he replied, "Not really, no. I've booked the range and put down the deposit, and I'm damned if I'm gonna waste it."
"Then what are we waiting for?"
to be continued