A.N. I do not own NCIS or this poem.
I'm sitting at my desk not sure if I should send this e-mail. All my personal effects are in a box at my side. My files and my computer are cleaned and ready for the next agent who will be sitting here. Paperwork has been all taken care of. All that's left is my goodbye. Part of me doesn't want to say it, doesn't want leave, doesn't want to rock the boat, but I'm done. I'm done with it all. So I guess I owe everyone a reason for why I'm gone. The reason for why I asked for a transfer to anywhere. This is supposed to be just for Abbey but the more I write the more I realize some of these are meant for everyone so I guess the whole group will be getting it. Everyone but ducky and Jimmy, get this e-mail. I just know the moment I hit send my life here in this office is done. Even if I wanted to come back this letter is going to change everything.
I'm sorry that I bought you roses to tell you that I like you
Red rose, I didn't know that you prefer black. I bought red roses as a way to say I love you. You threw my words and the flowers in my face.
Yellow roses mean friendship and pink roses mean affection. So that bouquet I got you means that I'm your friend. The affection I felt for you was that of a brother. But maybe Ari screw things up so badly you can't feel brotherly love any more.
I'm sorry that I was raised with respect not to sleep with you when you were drunk
The first time we going to sleep together you took me to a club. You then got so drunk that you could barely stand. I actually had to carry you into your apartment. You asked me to stay and I said no, my mother raised me to treat a woman with respect. You got pissed at me for that.
I'm sorry that my body's not ripped enough to "satisfy" your wants
I'm a geek; it should have come as no surprise to you that I wasn't covered in muscle. And yet you did nothing but comment on that fact. I wasn't forceful enough for you. I wasn't strong enough for you. You only want guys who have a threat of violence to them.
The nick name you hit me with tony really hurt. You called me flabby and tubby and the like. It was mean and unneeded. I wasn't a field agent remember there was no need for me to be solid muscle or even have well defined muscles. I passed my yearly fitness evaluation after all.
I'm sorry that I open your car door, and pull out your chair like I was raised
My father was in the Navy, my grandfather was in the Navy, and my mother taught manner's at a finishing school so I was raised to be a gentleman. I was taught that a man's job is to open the doors and pull out the chairs. I always walk on the outside of the sidewalk. Even Ziva has noticed that, she thought it was polite.
I'm sorry that I'm not cute enough to be "your guy"
I swear you look at me and see a puppy, or maybe you see someone who looks horrible. All I know is that I was never your guy, your boyfriend, or even your boy toy. I'm always an afterthought you when you talk to your friends, or even introduce people to your friends.
I'm sorry that I am actually nice; not a jerk
I don't play with your feelings. I don't act like a jerk just to apologize. I never wanted to pick a fight for the makeup sex. I guess you just can't handle someone who isn't a jerk.
I'm not Tony, Ziva; I show I care by actually caring. Not by acting like a schoolboy who has to pull the pretty girls pigtails.
I'm sorry I don't have a huge bank account to buy you expensive things
At the time we were dating I was barely surviving on the salary I had. So I'm sorry that the little hints you dropped about things you wanted I couldn't buy you.
I'm sorry I like to spend quality nights at home cuddling with you, instead of at a club
I don't like clubbing. Loud music combined with the wrong atmosphere and too many bodies in an almost too small space, it makes me claustrophobic. I like cuddling with you, you leaning into my chest while we're on the couch together. I especially like being curled up around you while lounging in bed together. See, you helped me forget the case, the taunts, and even the horror at what people can do to each other, just by letting me cuddle with you.
I'm sorry I would rather make love to you then just screw you like some random guy.
I was quietly passionate with you. I didn't want to use your toys; I don't like the thought of using whips or crops. I just wanted you. I wanted things to be slow and languid, gently bring you to that high so you could crash over it. Slow and soft is how I prefer to do things. And the longer we were together the more it was about making love, not relieving stress.
I'm sorry that I am always the one you need to talk to, but never good enough to date
When you had problem, you came to me. When you're stressed about work or a guy you came to me. All of you talked to me about your problems. And yet I'm not good enough to date or even be seen in public with unless we are on a case. I know none of you don't see me as a brother, so what am I to you.
I'm sorry that I always held your hair back when you threw up, and didn't get mad at you for puking in my car, but when we went out you went home with another guy
It was 3 AM you were so drunk you couldn't even remember your own address. We're at some club and I had to follow you into the ladies room when you turn green. I held your hair back as you brought up all that alcohol in your system. As we were driving home, correction as I was driving you home you puked on my floorboard, but do you know the next day you ignored me like I did something wrong. And the next time we went to a bar you went home with someone else. You forgot that you were my ride, or maybe you just didn't care.
I'm sorry that I am there to pick you up at 4am when your new man hit you and dropped you off in the middle of nowhere, but not good enough to listen to me when I need a friend
When I got the call I thought for a minute it was Gibbs. After all why else would I be getting a call at 4 AM? And then I heard your voice of line, you were crying, begging me pick you up. So like normal I drove to where you were. When I finally did pick you up all I could see was the darkening of bruises on your cheekbone, and a hand print forming on your wrist. I listen to you crying your heart out that night. You kept telling me he was a good guy. That he didn't mean to. When the Mauer incident happened and you screwed up it was somehow my fault. I got punished for your actions. Yet when I needed someone to listen to me about my problem you didn't have time. When I needed someone tell me everything is good and be okay I got "bad McGee". Some friend you are. Some friend all of you are.
I'm sorry if I start not being there because it hurts being used as a door mat, only to be thrown to the side when the new jerk comes around.
I'm a toy you. Something you can pick up and play with when you need to, but when something new comes around you drop me. I'm someone you can walk all over. And I'm tired of it, so I'm moving away from you. I'm not letting myself be there anymore. Because I can't see you with the jerks you're with.
I'm sorry if I don't answer my phone anymore when you call, to listen to you cry for hours, instead of getting a couple hours of sleep before work.
I'm done it as simple as that. I'm done picking you up at 4 AM in the middle of nowhere. I'm done holding your hair back while you puke. I'm done being your doormat and your backup plan, your coin operated boy. The last time you called I chose sleep over answering the phone. I'm sorry because when everything said and done I love my job more than I liked you.
I'm sorry that you can't realize...I've been the one all along.
For eight years I have been there. For seven of them I was waiting for you to see me. Waiting for you to notice I've always been there. I didn't leave for Mexico when things got to rough. I didn't start working on a secret undercover assignment. I didn't tell Gibb's to choose between me and my partner. I have been standing right here but you never saw. You never realized that I was waiting for you to see me.
But most of all I'm sorry for not being sorry anymore
I can't do this anymore. I can't be your doormat anymore. So I'm choosing me, and that means that I have to leave because you Abbey are Gibb's golden girl. You Tony are the son he always wanted. You Ziva are like a daughter to him. If I forced him to choose me or anyone of you, you guys would win. I know he would choose you. So I'm leaving and I'm not sorry.
I'm sorry that you can't accept me for who I am
I can't change for you. I can't be who you want me to be. And I'm tired of waiting for any of you to see me as I truly am. I'm tired of getting picked on and laugh that. I'm tired the pranks and the high school antics. I'm tired of trying not to be me and trying to get you to except me.
I'm sorry I can never do anything right, and nothing that I do is good enough to make it in your world.
Gibbs I guess you could say that this point is for you. When I started writing this I was only planning on sharing this with Abbey but I think some of these are meant for all of you. So you know what I'm going to break rule 12. I'm sorry that I can't be the Baltimore cop or the Mossad trained assassin or even, rest her soul Kate, the ex-Secret Service agent. I'm just good with computers and I tried so hard to fit into your world. But you never understood computers or me. You never understood just what it takes to do my job.
I'm sorry I caught your boyfriend with another girl and told you about it, I thought that was what friends were for...
I'm sorry I hurt you Ziva. But I thought we were friends and friends should tell each other when they see what I saw. And I'm sorry Abbey that I was in the wrong for telling you he was cheating on you. I guess I'm wrong that friends shouldn't tell their friends when they're being cheated. I'm sorry it was my fault that you both lost the relationship that you had. It makes me wonder though if you saw my girlfriend cheating on me would you tell me? After all that's what friends are supposed to do isn't it?
I'm sorry that I told you I loved you and actually meant it.
And were back to Abbey, and again I'm sorry. I'm sorry that the first time I told you I love you we were at a classy restaurant, not the middle of other activities. See I meant it when I said I love you. At one time I truly loved you. Has anyone other than your parents said that we you haven't pushed away?
I'm Sorry that I cared
Now we're back everyone. See I tried to care about all of you. But I just can't do it anymore. I tried to care about your problems and your feeling for Jeanne, Tony, but everything was a joke to you. It's time to grow up and stop being a frat boy. I'm sorry Ziva that I cared enough to see if you were okay after Michael, Somalia, and every other time you needed help. All I got for trying was dark looks and veiled threats. I'm sorry Gibbs that I tried to contact you when you're in Mexico. When the situation with the drug cartel came up I'm sorry for being in the desert try to protect Abby from herself. I'm sorry I cared enough to leave flowers for Shannon and Kelly.
I'm sorry that I listen to you at night talking about how you wish you could have done something different.
I'm sorry, Tony, that I listened when you talked about Jeanne and how you wish things were different. How you wished you met her as yourself. I'm sorry, Ziva, that I heard when you said that you wish becoming a citizen wasn't necessary. That some days you wish you could go home. I'm sorry, Abbey, that I heard your drunken rambling about everything. And how you would change every situation if you could, I even heard how you would do it. I'm even sorry, boss, that I'm the one who was there to see you cry over your lost loves. I didn't mean to come to the hospital room when I did. I'm sorry I that you thought I was spying on your one human moment.
So I guess this is goodbye my transfer is already approved and by the time you read this I'm out of country. I guess I have one last thing to say. I'm sorry for every wrong I committed against you although I have no clue what they were.
Goodbye, Timothy McGee