The firefighters had yet to get the fire completely under control when Tony arrived at the scene. Now he stood close enough to feel the heat of the flames as they licked the car, leaving a blackened shell.

He shuddered. He’d never be able to see a car go up in flames again without imagining himself inside, being scorched beyond all recognition.

It should’ve been him.

He should be dead.

Then again, he should be dead so many times over that it was almost absurd. He’d be very impressed if he survived to his fortieth birthday.

“You okay?”

McGee came up beside him, touching Tony’s shoulder briefly, waking Tony from his thoughts. McGee’s hand felt safe in a world of turmoil. Tony wondered how long he’d been staring at the car wreck.

“Fine, Probie,” Tony said. “Interview the witnesses. We won’t be able to get to the car until its cooled down anyway.”

McGee gave him a long look that suggested he didn’t believe Tony, that he knew something was wrong. McGee knew Tony better than Tony wanted to admit.

Besides, Tony would be fine. He was always fine.

The fire slowly died down; there was nothing left to burn.

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Author’s notes: One of two unrelated 200 word drabbles for the NCIS_slash Challenge number 1. This one is for the photo prompt. I've also written Monday vs Friday for the same challenge. Thanks to Triskellion for betaing.

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