None of your business, a ncis fanfic

My very first NCIS fanfic. English is not my mother tongue, as I am actually german, so I just hope this turned out somewhat alright. Review please and tell me what I could do better. I know that this is a somewhat cheesy fanfic, but I couldn't help myself. I just had to write it like this.

Disclaimer: Honestly, you don't think I actually own NCIS or the characters of this story, do you? I only own the dead marine and the sitiuation and OOCness of this story, as you very well know. Oh, and I own the laptop I typed this on. It's a good laptop. Yeesss, you are a good laptop, Lt. Laptop, aren't you? Eeerrr... on with the story.

Tim stared down at his arm, watching crimson red blood trickle out of the cuts, over his skin and drip down to the ground, before he raised the knife again. He hissed in pain as the blade grazed his skin, splitting it open, revealing raw skin and causing more blood to flow down his arm, but it was a good kind of pain, a pain that let him forget his mental agony.

Yesterday, he had thought his life couldn't become any more unbearable. That this was already bad enough. However, today, he had been proven wrong.

"Probie, if I, in any way, cared what you thought, I'd tell you."

He closed his eyes as the knife opened up one of the older cuts. He didn't want to think of him now, didn't want to think of that jerk of a co-worker who caused him agony. He wanted to hate him. Wanted to loathe him. But he couldn't. He couldn't, because he was in love with that bastard. And for that, he hated himself.

He had done so much to be noticed by Tony, had done so much for only a little appreciation, but all he did seemed to be in vain. He had put so much effort in losing weight so that he would be a little more attractive. At that thought, he nearly laughed. He nearly laughed at himself for having been so stupid. Him, attractive? Not in a thousand years. Never. He would never be good enough for Very Special Agent Tony DiNozzo.

He had nearly jumped in joy when Tony had noticed his loss of weight. On the outside, he had kept calm about it. If Tony ever found out how he felt about him, he would have to quit the NCIS. His gut clenched uncomfortably at that thought, but there was no way he would be able to look the older agent in the eyes if his secret was revealed.

As the knife caressed his skin once more, he grimly smiled. What an idiot he was. What a pathetic dumb idiot he was for falling for Tony. He could never have him. Tony looked down on him, and, as much as he wanted to hate him for that, he couldn't, because Tony was right to do so. He loathed himself for being the weak, uncertain, geeky, ugly Probie he was. Tony was right to keep calling him that. He wasn't strong enough to be a real NCIS Special Agent. He would never be. For God's sake, he wasn't even strong enough to control his emotions for a man who couldn't care less about him!

As if fate wanted him to suffer even more, Tony's teasing had slowly started to become torture a while ago, getting worse with each day, each hour passing. The torture didn't even end when Gibbs or Ziva got in earshot, it just changed to a more subtle level, hinting at things Tony already did to him, telling him he'd do it again. He was sick of being Tony's victim, he was tired of thinking of clever ways to respond to the ways the older agent mocked him. He just wanted it to end.

But he couldn't bring himself to end it.

If he quit the NCIS, he would have to live without seeing Tony, and, as much as he hated the constant mocking and torture, he was addicted to his co-worker, maybe even to the verbal abuse. The very thought of that made Tim shudder in revulsion. Had he really sunk so low as to actually enjoy that torture? He hoped not. But he was addicted to Tony, to the sound of his voice, even if it mocked him, to his touch, even if he headslapped him. He knew he couldn't live without that. As much as he wanted to get away from the torture while at work, when he got home, he wished for nothing more than to be with Tony again. He was so pathetic.

Of course there was also another way to end it, but he couldn't bring himself to do that, either. He didn't want to hurt Abby. Or Ducky. Or Ziva. Or Gibbs. Or... would Tony even feel guilty if he killed himself? Would he feel bad about it? Would he even care?

"Probie, if I, in any way, cared what you thought, I'd tell you."

Why would he care?

Tim stared down at the knife in his hands, at the bloodstained blade and at the cuts on his arm from which the blood flowed like crimson tears, before he stood up to wash the blood off of both. It burned when the water touched the wounds, but he didn't care. He didn't even quite feel it. He felt numb.

As both, his arm and the knife, were clean, he went to bed like he was in a trance.

Tony sat on his desk, staring at his computer and trying to ignore the little voice in his head.

The black circles around his eyes became worse. You should ask him what's wrong.

No. He shouldn't care. He didn't care. He couldn't care less.

He didn't care that Tim - No, that McGee looked miserable. It was none of his business. He wasn't interested in the yonger man. He didn't care at all. He didn't want to know whether he was bi. Whether he had a chance. Because he wasn't interested. Not at all. Not him, Very Special Agent Tony DiNozzo, the sexy cocky womanizer. He wasn't interested in McGeek. He couldn't be.

"Hey, McProbie, had a bad night? Did the monsters under your bed try to eat you?", he teased. See, he teased, which meant he didn't care.

McGee didn't answer, he just kept his gaze fixed on the screen. Tony leaned back in his chair and was about to say something else to his co-worker, but he instantly straightened his back as Gibbs came in. "Gear up! Dead marine 15 miles from here. McGee, get the car."

He jumped out of his chair and grabbed his stuff. This was exactly what he needed, a case to get his mind off the subject. Not that there was any subject. Not at all.

The corpse lay in a small grove and Tony nearly rolled his eyes at the thought of how stereotype that was. He as already done sketching the crime scene, so he went looking for evidence. Seeing McGee squat down, he strolled over to see what he had found.

"Hey McGeek, Mcfound anything?", he asked. Instead of answering, the younger agent simply pointed at bullet casing in the grass, before he photographed it, still not saying a word.

Tony crouched down too to pick the small piece of evident up and put it in a bag. "Lost ya voice?"

McGee still didn't answer, but he broke the silence with a curse as his sleeve got stuck on the thorns of a plant next to him. When he tried to yank it free, Tony caught a glance of something red on the geek's arm. "What's that on your arm?"

McGee froze for a moment. "None of your business, DiNozzo."

Tony, too, froze. He was surprised and maybe even a little shocked at how cold the other man's voice sounded. And when did Tony become DiNozzo?

He demanded, "Let me see," and grabbed his arm, but McGee yanked it free, stood up and turned away. Irritated, Tony went after him as he tried to leave. He grabbed his arm again, this time with more force, and saw the other agent wince. He told himself that it was only curiosity and not worry that made him shove back the other's sleeve, but when he saw the long barely closed cuts, he was shocked.

He had seen many cuts like those, on the arms of people who were depressed, not thinking clearly, often even suicidal. Seeing those cuts on McGee now was something he had never thought possible. McGee was too smart to hurt himself like that. He had always thought of the younger agent as the clever hacker who would so easily outwit him and never had he thought him capable of maiming himself like that. He had never seemed like the type of person who needed to do that, had always seemed to in control of himself to Tony. Yet, here they were, in a stupid little grove, Tony staring at McGee's arm, at the cuts winding their way down it.

"You... cut yourself?", he choked out through the lump that had formed in his throat. Fine, he did care. Anyone would be shocked if their co-worker turned out to harm himself in such a way. It was only naturally. It wasn't as if his world seemed to turn upside down upon seeing Tim that way. At least that was what he kept telling himself.

"What do you care?"

Again, the cold in the other guy's voice shocked Tony, but the shock seemed unimportant compared to the shock of hearing him not even deny it. He could have been wrong. Somebody else could have done that to Tim and he was just too shy to ask for help. Or maybe he had already helped himself and didn't bother to tell anyone. But he didn't deny cutting himself.

Suddenly, Tony got angry. Angry at himself for not noticing that his co-worker hurt himself. And angry at Tim. For doing that. For not telling anyone. For implying he didn't care.

"I care, because you are my co-worker. Why the hell didn't you tell anyone? Why didn't you tell me?"

He hadn't wanted to say the last part. He didn't care whom McGee told about his problems. He defenitely didn't want to be the one. He couldn't care and he couldn't want to.

The sound McGee made made Tony nearly shiver. It was a laugh. A cold, careless laugh. A hollow, yet so pained laugh. A mocking laugh.

Tim laughed at him.

"Why should I, out of all people, tell you, DiNozzo? You, the reason I do this?"

Tony opened his mouth for a reply, but just then the meaning of what he had heard became clear to him and he speechlessly stared at Timothy McGee.

Tim felt somewhat satisfied as he watched pure horror cross his co-worker's face. He had kept this a secret for so long, it felt good to just let it out. He knew that, when the shock wore off, Tony would just laugh at him, taunt him about his weakness, maybe try to blackmail him by threatening to tell Gibbs, but he couldn't get himself to care at the moment. He watched Tony stare at him open-mouthed, unable to say anything. Finally, his mouth moved.

"You do this... 'cause of me?", the older agent whispered, still looking completely horrified. Tim wondered how long it would take until it dawned on him that this was perfect torture material.

"Are you proud of yourself now, DiNozzo? Proud, that you got me to do this? That you have such an influence on me? Do I disgust you even more now? Not only ugly and pathetic, but even weaker than you thought I was? Will you laugh at me now? Go on, do it." What had started as mocking became more and more depressed, until he barely whispered the last part. Any moment now, Tony would do just that. Laugh at him. Laugh at him for being so pathetic. And he knew that it would break what little there was left of his heart. Of his hopes. Of his dreams. He turned away and closed his eyes, waiting for the unavoidable. Waiting for the end of his world.

"Is that what you think, Tim?", he heard a quiet voice behind him. He didn't answer. He couldn't answer. He could barely breathe in fear of what was to come.

He only stood there in silence, waiting to be broken competely.

Tony couldn't believe what he had heard. He didn't want to believe it. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't.

All those time he had taunted him just to prove the voice in his head wrong. All those times he had annoyed him just to prove that he didn't want him to love him back. All those times he had mocked him just to prove that he wasn't amazed by the other agent. It had all been in vain.

No, not in vain. It was far, far worse than that.

He had tried to make himself believe that he didn't love Tim, but he ended up hurting his love. Destroying his self-confidence. Making him believe he looked down on him.

He had destroyed both their worlds, because he hadn't wanted to admit to himself that he loved him.

The guilt came crashing down on him with a force that nearly made him fall to his knees and Tony had to hold onto a tree for support as he finally understood what he had done. His knuckles turned white from holding onto the tree's branch to tightly, his eyes teared, his throat seemed to close up, his heart seemed to be be smothered, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't think, he couldn't move. He was choking on his guilt, it was suffocating him. But he couldn't let that happen, not before he had tried to salvage what little there was left of the man in front of him.

"Is that what you think, Tim?", he choked out, staring at his backside through the tears forming in his eyes. He didn't answer.

"I'm... I'm so sorry... I didn't..." Tony couldn't find words to express how he felt. Guilt and horror seemed to drown him. And self loathe. Oh God, what had he done?

His legs gave in under him and he collapsed to the ground. "Oh God, Tim, I'm so sorry. I didn't... I didn't mean to do that to you!" Tony felt the tears stream down his cheeks. He felt horrible. What kind of monster was he for destroying Tim? Tim, one of the best people he knew? The best, probably? Tim would've never done that. He wouldn't have been able to, because he was a good person. Unlike him.

"I never meant to hurt you." Tony's voice broke. "I didn't, really! Please, Tim, you have to believe me!"

The other still didn't react. Tony couldn't stand it. He needed Tim to look at him, needed to know he was listening. "Please, look at me, Tim.", he quietly begged.

Slowly, hesitant, the younger agent turned to face his partner. Tony saw his eyes widen, maybe because he was on his knees, barely able to hold himself up, maybe because he was crying. He didn't know.

"Please, Tim... I'm so sorry... Please forgive me!", he pleaded. He knew it was extremely egocentric of him to ask the other man to forgive him when he should hate him, but he couldn't stand it. He needed Tim to forgive him, he would do anything to make up for what he did, absolutely anything.

When Tim still said nothing, he gave up what little pride he had left. "Please, I'd do anything to make it up to you, if you just forgive me.", he sobbed.

He saw Tim walk over to him unsteadily. He crouched down in front of him. Tony was about to keep begging for forgiveness, when Tim opened his mouth.

"Why, Tony?"

Tim was still waiting for the world to crash down around him, when he heard Tony's voice again.

"I'm... I'm so sorry... I didn't..."

Tim needed a moment to process what he heard. Tony... apologized to him? He thought that he had finally gone insane, when Tony continued.

"Oh God, Tim, I'm so sorry. I didn't... I didn't mean to do that to you!"

The desperation was clear in the man's voice, so were the guilt, the pain and the hate. But it couldn't be. Tony wouldn't apologize to him. What was there to apologize for? He was pathetic, so of course Tony would hold that against him. Right?

"I never meant to hurt you." He heard Tony's voice break. He... didn't mean to?

"I didn't, really! Please, Tim, you have to believe me!"

Had he had the control over his body in that moment, he would have shaken his head. This couldn't be true. This wasn't happening, was it? It couldn't be happening, because Tony didn't care about him.

"Please, look at me, Tim."

Tim's guts clenched. Tony sounded so pleading. However, he hesitated. What if this really wasn't happening? He couldn't bear having this last of his hopes destroyed, but he needed the reassurance that this was real. Slowly, he turned.

His eyes widened at the sight of Tony on his knees, tears streaming down his face, looking at him pleadingly. This... was happening? It looked so real. It felt so real. Yet, how could this be real?

"Please, Tim... I'm so sorry... Please forgive me!"

"Please forgive me!"

Tim didn't know what to do or how to feel. He blankly stared at his co-worker, his tormenter, his partner, his crush.

"Please, I'd do anything to make it up to you, if you just forgive me."

Tim walked up to the man, barely able to move, his legs feeling as if they were made of butter. He crouched down so that he was face to face with him. He needed to know. He needed to know, or his brain would explode, his heart would be torn apart and his world would come crashing down.

Staring at him, he asked, "Why, Tony?"

He saw Tony cast down his eyes as if he was ashamed of what he was about to say. Tim had the feeling he'd have a heart attack any moment if DiNozzo took any longer to answer and when he just felt it becoming unbearable, Tony spoke.

"I didn't want to admit to myself that I..." Couldn't he just say it, whatever it was? His throat became too tight to breathe.

"That I love you.", Tony whispered, and Tim felt his brain shut down.

"I love you."

He heard the words repeated in his head, but he just couldn't make sense of them.

"I love you."

Had Tony really said it? He couldn't have. It was impossible.

"I love you."

Could it be true? He had to know.

"You... love me?" It felt weird to ask. Like an impossibility. Like it would feel weird to say that Abby was calm or that Gibbs was nice.

And yet, he saw Tony nod.

Tony closed his eyes. Tim would hate him. He could never look him in the eye again. An eternity seemed to pass as Tony waited to him to say something, anything. He felt like a criminal sitting in court, waiting for the judge to declare his sentence. And no sentence could be worse than Tim's hate.

"You... love me?"

Tony forced himself to nod.

Maybe he doesn't hate you. Maybe he won't hate you. Maybe he forgives you. Maybe he lets you make it up to him. Maybe he'll give you a chance.

The little voice in his head tried to give him hope. He didn't want hope. It would kill him to hope now. It would kill him to have his hope crushed. Yet, despite knowing this, he hoped.

"Forgive me. Please.", he choked out, his voice almost inaudible. He didn't dare to look up, he was scared of seeing Tim's eyes be filled with rejection. With hate.

"But...", he heard Tim say quietly. But what? But I can't forgive you, because you treated me like shit? But I'm straight? But Gibbs' rule #1 says never screw your partner? Wait, that was "Never screw over your partner". But there's still rule #12: "Never date a co-worker"? But what?

"I thought you didn't care?"

But that.

"I do, Tim. I care a lot about you. I just... couldn't admit it to myself. I'm sorry." Please say you forgive me. Please say you love me back. Please say you don't hate me. Please say you'll give me a chance to prove myself worthy of you. Please say anything at all.

He finally dared to look Tim in the eye, trying to put all the things he couldn't voice in his glance. Most of all, his love and his apology.

"Why would you love me?", Tim asked, more sounding like he was talking to himself than like he was talking to Tony. He saw the hope in his eyes, but most of all the fear. The fear of being rejected. And the uncertainty.

He didn't want Tim to feel like that. He had made him feel way too bad already, he was gonna make up for that.

"I love you, because you are kind and caring and because you are so smart, because you don't give up and because you prove anybody wrong who underestimates you. I love you, because you are handsome and fight back if somebody picks on you, because you are sweet and brave and because of a thousand other reasons."

About three seconds later, Tim collapsed into his arms, sobbing. Tony caught him and tried to comfort him, whispering apologies in his ear.

"I'm sorry, Tim, I'm so sorry I hurt you, I promise I won't do it again. Please let me make it up to you, Tim. Please don't hate me, please, I beg of you, say you don't hate me, please say you forgive me, please, I'm so sorry for what I did." And please say you're bi!

"I-I... f-forg-give y-you, T-Ton-n-ny.", he heard Tim sob. He forgave him. He really did. He thought his heart had to burst with gratefulness.

"Thank you, Tim. Thank you." He was choking on gratitude. Tim forgave him. After all he had done to him, after he had made him suffer so much, Tim forgave him. This was probably the luckiest moment in his life.

"I love you too, Tony.", Tim whispered, proving Tony wrong.

He felt tears of joy run down his cheeks and he held his partner tight, silently swearing that he would somehow make it up to Tim, that he would make up for what he had done to him and that he would never ever hurt him again, that he would protect him from any harm.

He was not gonna risk the love of Timothy McGee.