Cease Hostilities
By Channel D
Rating: K+
Type: Oneshot, drama
Characters: Tim & the team
Setting: Washington, November 11, 2007
Summary: Stuck at work on a holiday, Tim is angry.
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Disclaimer: I own nothing of NCIS; though I wish I did.
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"You know what, Tony? You can just…blow it out your ear!" Given his druthers, Tim would have used coarser language, although he rarely even did that. But since he was shouting anyway, there was no point in calling even more attention to himself in the squad room. So he left the words at that, and mumbled to Gibbs, who was giving him a stern look, "I'm going on break." He put on his coat and walked out of the NCIS building.
I shouldn't let Tony get to me, Tim thought as he crossed Sicard Street and headed for the little park at the riverside. He chose a park bench facing the moored display ship Barry and sat there, hands in his pockets to hide from the November chill. He's no worse than he ever has been…but sometimes I really want to knock his block off.
Part of his irritation, he knew, had nothing to do with Tony. The team had pulled a weekend assignment, today was Sunday, and to top it off, it was November 11, Veterans Day. Most other federal employees would have Monday off, but for essential personnel like special agents, Veterans Day was a floating holiday, to be taken off at a time when the agency could afford to miss them (he'd requested the 19th as his leave day). It just seemed unfair to have to work through two Veterans Days…the 11th and the observed one on the 12th…in a row. Tony, having seniority, of course, had put in for and was granted the 12th off.
Good. I won't miss him at all tomorrow.
A shadow fell on him; someone blocking the feeble sun. Ziva. "May I join you? I decided it was time for my break, too." At his nod, she sat.
She pulled gloves out of her pockets and put them on before she spoke."What made you get so upset, McGee? You and Tony—it didn't seem to me any different from his teasing on any other day." Seeing Tim frown and look away, she sighed. "You men. You hate talking about these things. I understand that, though I don't understand why you do."
Again, stony silence. "If you'd rather that I sat somewhere else, I'll leave."
He had been raised to be a gentleman, and his upbringing won out. "That's not necessary, Ziva. My quarrel isn't with you. You're welcome to sit here."
"But not welcome to talk about what's bothering you."
He didn't answer that, but said instead, "Do you know what today is?"
"In the US, you call it Veterans Day; is that what you mean?"
"That's the day."
"In other countries it's called 'Remembrance Day' or 'Armistice Day'," said Gibbs. They looked up and scooted apart a bit to make room for him on the bench. He handed each of them a steaming cup of coffee. "We called it Armistice Day, too, before Eisenhower had it switched to Veterans Day."
Tim shrugged. "It's all the same thing anyway. And same outcome; a day off in early November. Unless you're 'essential personnel' and so do not get the day off."
Gibbs gave him a glare. "No, it's not the same thing at all. It was renamed Veterans Day to honor the many war veterans. By that time, in 1954, we'd been through a second world war and a war in Korea. We started focusing on the people instead of a single conflict. And you, you young pup, who've never faced a military draft in your lifetime, you should appreciate the sacrifices people have made, rather than fret over getting a fixed day off."
"I get it, boss; I do," Tim said, blushing. "And I don't mean to sound ungrateful, or petty."
"I can see the difference," Ziva said, quietly. "I can't imagine, though, what it must have been like to have been living at the time of the first world war. The horrible poisonous weapons they used, like mustard gas and phosgene—it's a good thing this is no longer done, usually. With those and the new explosives, no wonder it was called the 'chemist's war'. The terrible conditions of long trench warfare. The wiping out of a generation in France. About 20 million war dead throughout the world; another 50 million influenza deaths starting in 1918."
"The 'lost generation'," said Gibbs. "That's what they called the soldiers of that war. The survivors would come home to an enormously changed world: politically, economically, socially. Nationalism rose; that should have been a warning signal right there.
"But there came an armistice," Gibbs continued, quietly. "In 1918, on the eleventh day of the eleventh month at the eleventh hour, a cessation of hostilities. It wasn't the formal end to the war; that wouldn't come until the following year with the Treaty of Versailles, but this is the ending to the war that people remember. The armistice."
His eyes lighting up, Tim felt he'd never put the parts together before. "It wasn't the formal signing of the treaty that mattered to the common person. It was the end of the shooting and shelling. It was the end of the 'war to end all wars'. They really thought they'd achieved peace…I wish we could do that. Scrap all our weapons, turn them into plowshares, love one another."
"In some areas, maybe that's possible," said Ziva. "In the Middle East, it won't happen in my lifetime." She gazed at the Barry sadly.
Tim finished the last of his rapidly-cooling coffee, and lamented the loss of the heat source for his hands. "As my father, who was a teenaged pacifist in the '60s, often says, 'Why can't we all just get along?' I'd gladly give up this job if we had a lasting peace that abolished its need."
"But we don't," said Gibbs. "And I don't see world peace on the horizon. We just have to do the best we can. And peace begins on the individual level; neighbor to neighbor, stranger to stranger."
"Love your fellow man. Or woman." Ziva smiled.
"Yeah, I guess…" Tim said.
"Hi, uh, guys. I got going on break late." This was Tony, who motioned for them to move down so he could sit. He did so, on the other side of Tim. "You all look solemn."
"Remembrance Day," said Ziva. "I feel I should be wearing a poppy."
"Oh, yeah. Uh, look, Probie, I know you wanted tomorrow off. I can switch with you if you like, and take the 19th. I don't care."
"Oh, no; that's all right. I know you have plans." Tim studied the ground before him.
"You sure? 'Cause I can change them."
"You have a date, remember? You talked about her all last week. A girl who loves basketball more than you do. You have tickets to tomorrow's Wizards game. I'm cool with taking off Monday next week."
"Well, I just thought I'd make the offer," Tony said with a half smile. "You looked like you needed cheering up about something. I don't know what I did to make you so mad at me, but I'm sorry."
Tim returned a half smile, and nodded, then shook Tony's offered hand. Peace begins on the individual level.
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