Okay so really, this sort of sucks. I know I could have done so much better with this, but I was getting stuck and it was getting frustrating. A friend of mine asked for for this so here it is! I wasn't going to share it, but thought why not? Anyway, each of these chapters are going to be one-shots, probably in no specific order to the show's timeline, and some may reference others, but honestly I don't know until I write the next one so yeah. Most of these will be Tim-centric with a supportive team, and a lot will probably be McGibbs and/or McNozzo, because I love those pairings. I will say which ones are which so if you don't want to read it, you don't have too. Anyway, enjoy my horrible writing! :)
I do not own NCIS or it's characters.
NAVAL CRIMINAL INVESTIGATIVE SERVICE
Getting shot was not fun. Getting shot with your own gun? Even worse. Getting shot with your own gun in the hallway of your own agency? The worst. Getting shot with your own gun in the hallway of your own agency with your boss standing next to you? Hilarious.
Three days ago weapons had gone missing on their transport to be destroyed and Gibbs' team were tasked with tracking them down. They found them, or at least some of them. For two days they had been interrogating a Marine who was found with the weapons, hoping he'd spill on his accomplices and where the rest of the weapons were. They had no such luck yet. Returning from yet another dead end search Tim had gotten right to work on his computer. When he thought he had had something, he headed for interrogation to inform his boss.
Having been in interrogation for almost three hours now, Gibbs knew his team needed a break. He ordered their Marine to be taken back to lockup and stepped out to talk with McGee. That's when it happened. The Marine shoved the agent escorting him back to lockup right into Ziva and back into the interrogation room before punching Gibbs, knocking him into the wall, and lunging for Tim's gun. The gun Tim had forgot to lock away in his desk when he got back to work. The gun that was pulled from it's holster at his waist before he could react. The gun that had gone off as soon as Gibbs had lunged at their suspect.
The next thing he knew he was sitting on the floor, his back to the wall, and Gibbs had a jacket over the gunshot wound in his shoulder, putting as much pressure as he possibly could without hurting the younger man even more then he already was. He was talking to him, but Tim wasn't really listening. There was a rushing sound in his ears, and his eyes were glazed over. He knew he was in shock, but the pain was bad. He could see Tony and Ziva near, both on the phone, probably to paramedics and Ducky. He passed out before Ducky arrived.
NAVAL CRIMINAL INVESTIGATIVE SERVICE
Gibbs and Tony were in the kitchen, getting ready to make dinner for themselves and Tim. The younger agent was currently upstairs sleeping. Or at least they hoped he was sleeping. It had been a rough week for all of them, especially McGee. The youngest agent had been shot in the shoulder. With his own gun none the less, at their own place of work. Thankfully it hadn't caused too much damage and had been a through and through. After six days in hospital, Tim had been released into the care of his team and brought to stay with Gibbs to finish recovering.
Gibbs was angry. Angry that one of his agents had been shot while standing right next to him. Angry that the kid had been shot with his own gun. A gun he knew was suppose to be locked away in a desk drawer. He was angry at himself for not reacting fast enough. He was angry at McGee for letting the suspect take his gun, though in all honesty he knew Tim didn't have a choice. The gun was out of his control the second their suspect had a hand on it. How the man had gotten it out of the holster and the safety off before they could think was what had Gibbs the most angriest.
Tony was also angry. He should have made sure he and McGee had locked their guns away before getting back to work. But they had been on a roll. They had their bad guy, they just needed to find the last of those weapons. He was angry at himself for not reacting sooner and pulling his own gun. It had happened so fast, Tony didn't have time to even remember he still had his as well. He knew Gibbs was upset with them, but the anger had to be placed elsewhere for now. Their teammate had been shot, they needed to help him recover first. Then be angry.
"You think he's up to eating? He hasn't really ate since he was shot."
Gibbs nodded as he pulled the steaks from the fridge, along with ingredients for a salad. He wasn't going to eat it, but he knew Tim would. "Not gonna force him too."
Tony sort of doubted that. He had watched Gibbs argue with Tim multiple times about everything from getting out of bed, to eating, hell to even take the pain meds the doctor was trying to get him to take. He didn't have a pump to decide himself when or if he wanted the meds, which Tony found odd, he had been shot, of course the kid was going to be in constant pain, right? He had to wait for a nurse to come in and check on him and each time she asked, he said no.
Tony didn't understand why his partner, his friend, refused and fought so hard when it came to pain meds. It had taken them three days to get him to even approve one dose while in hospital, and then another 24-hours for a second, and only when Ducky was right there to monitor him. Tony had wanted to ask questions but with one look from Ducky, Tony kept his mouth shut. When the prescription was handed over upon his release, Tony watched as Gibbs yanked it out of McGee's hand so fast, he was sure one of them had a paper cut. He had yet to actually confront his teammate about it. Wanted to give him time to settle, to relax and recover. Being shot was no picnic, Tony would know.
"I think I'm going to go check on him." Tony finally announced as he turned to leave the kitchen, only to stop as McGee was standing in the doorway. Tony instantly picked up on the fact that Tim was sweating, and breathing a little heavier then usual. "You okay, Probie?"
"Why the hell aren't you upstairs resting?" Gibbs growled, glaring at his youngest agent as he closed the fridge door behind him.
McGee didn't say a word as he stepped forward, placing his bottle of pain medication in the middle of the island between himself and Gibbs. Tony stood to the right of his teammate, looking between the pair and the bottle and asked his question again. "You okay?"
"Either keep that out of my reach or I'm dump it down the sink. I can't have it near me."
Tony was fed up and before Gibbs could say anything, he jumped in. "Probie. McGee, man come on. Just take the damn meds if you need them, you're obviously in pain."
"I can't."
"Why the hell not?" Gibbs could be a patient man, but when it came to the stubbornness of one of his agents, one of his kids, that patience ran a thin line. "You have been fighting tooth and nail since day one. Ducky obviously knows why, but we don't. Why won't you take them?"
"I just can't. Please, just keep it away from me."
"Tim." Tony took a step closer but McGee recoiled away.
"I'm an addict okay!" Tim practically yelled, closing his eyes and hanging his head in defeat. More quietly he continued. "I'm an addict. And if those things are within my reach, I might.. I.."
"Okay McGee." Gibbs interrupted him.
Tim opened his eyes to find the bottle of pills now gone from the counter. He looked up at Gibbs with pain in his eyes. "I won't fight anymore. I'll take them when needed, but no more then that. As long as I don't know where they are."
Nodding, Gibbs took a moment to collect his thoughts. Of all the reasons why his agent fought tooth and nail about taking pain medication. The team had been thinking along the lines of an allergy, but clearly they were wrong. Someone couldn't be allergic to all types of pain meds, right? They never would have actually given him any had he been in the first place. "So that's why Ducky was monitoring you at the hospital."
"Yeah." Tim stepped closer to the breakfast table, leaning back against it, resting his palm on the edge, his head down, staring at his socked feet. "I needed him to know right away, just in case something.. in case something happened and it would be required."
"So.." Tony leaned his hip against the counter. "This started before you joined the team."
Tim nodded, still not looking at his teammates.
"When?"
Tim didn't really pay attention to which one of them had asked, but he answered anyway. "It started in high school after an accident during a wrestling match, but didn't get bad until I was at MIT."
"When did you get help?"
Looking up at the two pairs of eyes looking at him with their own pain, Tim rubbed at his eyes with his free hand. The sling holding the arm of the shoulder that was shot, tucked safely against his chest. His shoulder was on fire, and he knew they knew, but he wasn't going to admit it. Not out loud.
"After I almost died."
A sharp intake from Tony and a whispered curse from Gibbs had Tim looking back at both his boss and teammate. They were both looking down, Tony at the floor, Gibbs at the counter he was leaning against, his arms spread out, palms pressing into the counter, keeping himself standing. Tim decided to just get it over with and continue with his story.
"I was studying with a buddy for a test. We were drinking and it was just so bad, I was basically going through a bottle every two days, almost in just one. It wasn't like I was in pain anymore, it had been years, but... I lost track of how many I had taken that night, and with the drinking..."
"You overdosed." Tony concluded.
Tim nodded. "Only difference is I survived. Landon didn't."
"Who found you?"
"My roommate. He came back from a party early with a girl. The girl's mother was a nurse so she knew a little bit and tried to get us to throw up. I don't remember much after that until I woke up in the hospital and my mom was there. The moment I was released, she drove me to rehab."
"Alright. So the pills stay hidden, and you only get them when scheduled." Gibbs finally said as he stood up straight, still looking at McGee. "Right now, you're not due for another hour so I'm going to make dinner, and you're going back to bed to rest. Tony, go with him if he needs any help."
"On it Boss." Tony motioned for Tim to go first.
"Thank you." Tim gave a sad smile to his boss as he turned to head back upstairs.
NAVAL CRIMINAL INVESTIGATIVE SERVICE
The three men were sitting at the table in the kitchen, eating the steaks Gibbs had grilled on the fire. Tim also had a salad. Gibbs had refused to eat any, but Tony had a fork full at least. They had been silent since their conversation earlier. Gibbs had given Tim his pills just as they sat down to eat, and watched as the younger man had taken them, still unsure if he would actually do it, or stick them under his tongue to dispose of later. Tim knew the older man didn't really trust him right now, he didn't blame him. Spearing another chunk of his steak that Gibbs had cut for him because of his immobile arm, Tim popped it into his mouth, chewing slowly.
"Probie." Tony didn't speak loud as he looked at his teammate.
Tim knew the questions would come sooner or later. He had really been hoping for later. Sighing, Tim sat his fork down, swallowed his food, and looked at his boss and teammate. "You already know the worst part, ask whatever you want."
"Have you ever.." Tony looked thoughtful for a moment. "Since you got clean have you... you know?"
Tim closed his eyes for a second as he slumped back into his chair. After a minute he opened his eyes and looked straight at Tony. "It's a daily struggle Tony. There are some days when I'm at the store, I find myself heading straight for the pain medication in the pharmacy. But to answer your question, yes. There have been many times I've almost fallen off the wagon."
"How many?" When Tim didn't answer right away, Gibbs clarified. "Since you joined the team, how many?"
"I think I've lost count, Boss." Taking a deep breath, Tim continued, knowing they wanted a better answer then that. "The first time was when Kate was killed. After it was over, after Ari was dead. I found myself at the pharmacy. I don't even remember walking there after getting off the bus. When I realized just what I was about to do, I turned around and headed home, and called my mom."
"So your mom's helped you through it."
Tim nodded. "She told me whenever I felt the need too.. you know. Do that again. I was to call her. Day or night."
"When was the second time?" Tony sort of had a suspicion but he wanted Tim to tell him.
Tim knew that Tony knew so he didn't even look at the older man when he answered. "After I shot Benedict."
Tony nodded, he had a feeling he was right. "So you called your mom then too."
"No." Tim watched as both Gibbs and Tony's heads shot up to look at him. "I actually almost lost it that night. Had a bottle with me this time. Was ready to take the whole thing."
"What stopped you?"
Tim looked at his teammate, his friend, and smiled. "You showed up." He nodded to the older man. "Had the bottle in my hand when I answered the door. Had you seen it it wouldn't have been suspicious. You probably would have just thought I had a headache or something."
"You didn't take them after I left?"
Tim shook his head, moving his fork around on his plate subconsciously. "Do you remember I went into the bathroom."
"Yeah."
Nodding again, Tim continued. "I flushed the whole bottle down the toilet. You helped me that night, Tony. Without even knowing it." Sitting up straighter in his chair, making a face as he felt the stitches in his shoulder pull slightly, Tim picked up his fork to continue eating, the other men following suit. "Look, there have been many times I've come close, but I need you to know. I haven't. Not since I got out of rehab. Not since I joined the team."
"And you need to know we're here for you, Probie. If you don't want to call your mom, call me."
"Thanks Tony." Tim gave the man a flash of a smile before his face fell and he turned to his boss. "If you don't think I should be on the team anymore..."
"Never said I didn't."
"Yeah but every time I get hurt."
"We'll deal with it as a team, like we always do. I told you years ago McGee, you belong to me."
Tim knew Gibbs was done talking as the older man returned to his steak. He was grateful, he was tired of talking as well.