"I want in fact more of you. In my mind I am dressing you with light; I am wrapping you up in blankets of complete acceptance and then I give myself to you. I long for you; I who usually long without longing, as though I am unconscious and absorbed in neutrality and apathy, really, utterly long for every bit of you."

Franz Kafka, Letters To Milena

2010

Deep in worry for his absent agent, it took him some time to sense the eerily quietness in the office and Gibbs looked up from the spread files on his desk to see Tony and Ziva looking at each other. It was still early in the evening, earlier than his usual time of sending them home. Their progress on their case was less than admirable, the new tech girl wasn't McGee, and they were stuck in the middle of their evidence.

Tony noticed his Boss checking at them. "It was suicide, Boss. She fell in front of that car."

"Come on now, Tony, why would she kill herself?"

"She was assaulted, Ziva. Some people just can't deal with it." Gibbs would have hit DiNozzo, harder than usual, if he was closer to him, but his ankle hurt to get up just for that.

Ziva had no such shortcomings and in an instant she was looming over her colleague. "Look at her, Tony." She pointed at the plasma screen where they could see the photo of a young woman; dark haired, pale, big brown eyes. She had been beautiful in a way 1940s movie stars were. "She fought through everything in her life to become part of the navy. Yes, she was assaulted, but from the records, she had been called names all her life." She threw the files she had picked from Tony's desk on him. "Freezing, iceberg, broken, ice queen… that she needed a real man, again and again. Her whole life. And you think she committed suicide when she's been assaulted without fighting back? After all, she kicked their asses hard instead of being hurt herself."

Gibbs swallowed a pain pill for his aching leg, and stood. "So, what do we have, Ziva? Other than your intuition?'

"Do you also think she killed herself?" Her accusing stare would have been jarring but he was too tired to care.

"I don't think anything. I want proof and I was suspects. And right now we have neither. Was it suicide, was it an accident? Did someone push her? No witnesses. Not even the car driver has anything to say because she's in shock! So, why don't you both go home and come back with clear heads?" Their victim wouldn't go anywhere. It was too late for that.

Tony was already on his feet, pushing his dirty shirt in his backpack. "What about McGee, Boss? Will he be here tomorrow?"

"Probably, DiNozzo."

-NCIS-

By the time Gibbs arrived at Silver Springs, the pain on his leg was down to a slight annoyance.

His research proved fruitless since McGee's car was missing, so Gibbs assumed he had come home and then left. He had to find out where he had gone to.

The earlier drizzling was slowly turning into showering and Gibbs took his coat off to shake the water away before laying in the passenger's seat. He took his cell phone and called Tim for the third time since he had left NCIS.

His agent hadn't turned the phone off but he didn't answer it either. "Damn it, McGee, just answer the damn phone!" Driving faster than he should in this kind of weather he pulled in a stop in front of Tim's house. He and Tim had spent their summer in it in order to transform it from looking its 90 years into Tim's dream house. They had planned for the move to take place in the beginning of October but Tim's impromptu vacation had spoiled their plans. Tim wasn't there either. His car was missing and Gibbs knew no one had been here for the fortnight McGee was in Europe.

Back in his car Gibbs turned his cell phone in his hand and dialed a number. "Hey, Gabriel. I'm at your neighborhood. Is Tim there? He's not at his place. Places." He added as an afterthought.

"Jethro? No, Tim isn't here. Is he back from Rome?"

"He's back alright. He brought Paul home yesterday and left him in his parents' house and he was supposed to be here by now."

"And you can't find him."

"He's not answering his phone."

"Did you go home? He's probably waiting for you to go there." Gibbs wasn't going to question Gabriel's suggestion. It was the only plausible one left and cursed softly as he reminded himself he could use the agency's resources to find McGee earlier. Damn emotions were screwing with his thoughts.

When he pulled over in front of his own front yard, he saw Tim's car there. Killing off the engine, he breathed deeply, rubbing his fingers over his eyes before stepping out and running to his front door to avoid as much as it was possible to get wetter. Inside, he was enveloped by the usual darkness and chill of an empty house.

Tim's car might have been there, Tim's cell phone was settled innocently on Gibbs' table, but their owner was nowhere to be seen. After a quick detour around the house, Gibbs walked back outside to finally find McGee standing still in the middle of his back yard. Gibbs felt a weight in his shoulders being lifted the moment he set eyes on Tim. His face was raised upwards; he was dressed in a black shirt, drenched as the unforgiving rain pounded on him.

Not for the first time, Gibbs cursed his recent undercover op that had kept him away and unreachable when Tim needed him the most. As quickly as he could, trying not to startle his friend, Gibbs jogged to him. He reached out his hand to him. "Tim?" When he got no response he tried again, louder this time. "McGee?"

Tim turned around to face him, wrapping his arms around his himself, and Gibbs saw the pale face; dark circles underneath bloodshed eyes. Stepping right in front of the distraught man, he hugged him one armed and, grasping one of his hands with his own, he pulled the cold body to him. "Let's go inside." Gibbs could feel his chest ache at the desolation on the younger man's face. Tim let him lead him inside.

-NCIS-

Gibbs would have preferred to light the fireplace instead of turning the thermostat on, but he had no time for waste and didn't want to leave Tim alone. "Come on, let's get you dry." Leading him to the bathroom, he helped him unbutton his shirt before wrapping him in a dry robe. He took a towel to wipe his face.

Tim's voice startled him. "The fluorescent lamps in the bathrooms create an ethereal light when my eyes and lashes are wet. Does it ever happen to you, Boss? Seeing so clear but, like through a sheen of light?" He blinked at Gibbs, hiding the green of his eyes for a moment before he continued. "It happens while swimming too, but the water is not as clean and the sun's light is never as white as to create the same sensation."

Gibbs did in fact know the sensation. However, he was too concerned about Tim's mental state to give an answer just to appease him. "Would you like a shower, McGee? Warm water to bring your temperature back to normal?"

"Not really, Boss. But if you want, I'll have one."

Gibbs wasn't sure he could deal with such meekness from Tim. In all the years he had known the man, he had never seen him like this; and he had observed his best and worst moments. "Take off your clothes, Tim."

"It's your bathrobe, Gibbs, not mine." Despite the unnecessary reminder, Tim pulled it off alongside the rest of his clothes while Gibbs settled the water's temperature.

Gibbs wasn't certain if he should leave Tim alone to take the shower, but thoughts about time and place entered his mind before turning around to see him naked under the weather. Tim's eyes shone bright as he stared up at the light. "There it is again…" he whispered, just as Gibbs pulled the curtain to stop his gaze from going lower.
Feeding Tim was his first priority. Coming close to him over the years had taught him the other's man eating problems. In times of worry, pain, or even happiness, Tim either ate too much or not at all. No middle ground. And Gibbs has almost nothing to give him for dinner.

Searching in his fridge for something edible his thoughts returned to the man in his bathroom. It's been such a long time since he had first seen Timothy McGee in Norfolk. Nothing had prepared him for emotions changing over the years. Back then, McGee used to look like an overgrown child dressed in his father's clothes, all round pouting. There was no one as far away from a sexually attractive man, in Gibbs' opinion, than Tim McGee in those early days. Except for the eyes. Those bright, green eyes that laughed, brooded, dreamed; their intelligent intensity in that still awfully youthful face had caught his attention long before anything else had.

Everything else came afterwards.

He briefly wondered if soup was delivered these days. He had never before wanted something light for dinner. That trained of thought was cut in the middle when he heard a crushing noise from the bathroom. He opened the door without knocking and found Tim looking at his naked feet. They were surrounded by shards of broken glass. With a quick glance Gibbs discovered it was the glass he kept his toothbrush in.

Tim looked up at him. "It fell. I tried to catch it, but I failed."

Gibbs thought that he was living the last hour in slow motion. Especially when he was around McGee. "Ok, give me your hand, Tim." Taking him by the hand he helped him avoid the broken glass and led him to his guestroom. "Did you cut yourself?"

A shake of the head was his only answer and Gibbs kneeled to see for himself. A scratch was bleeding but not enough to worry Gibbs. He brought a hand towel and put pressure on the wound for a while before standing up again. Tim sat on the bed, covered with only a towel. Gibbs knew Tim had a bag with clothes in his car but he wasn't going to get it with this weather. "Stay here; I'll bring you something to wear."

Gibbs grabbed his cell to call Gabriel, informing him Tim was with him and relatively well..
"Take care of him. And make him come see me tomorrow."

Gibbs had to agree with him, unless he wanted to share his home with his Master Sergeant as well as Tim.

-NCIS-

The numbness that had enveloped him as soon as he had parked in front of Gibbs' house had not left him yet. He was aware of his surrounding, of Gibbs' presence, of anything that needed to be said and be done, but he couldn't bring himself to care. When Gibbs returned with clothes, Tim stared at them.

"I can help you put them on."

"Ok." Why wasn't the other man giving up on him, Tim couldn't tell. He'd been a annoyance. He shouldn't have come here. He could dress up and go home. "Raise your arms for me, Tim." The t-shirt wasn't his own. The sweat pants weren't his own either. He kept listening to Gibbs' voice, gentle and soothing, so far away, but couldn't pay attention to what the other man was saying.

Gone, lost, dead.

Gibbs' cupping his face made him open his eyes. His Boss was standing right in front of him. His face inches apart from his. His eyes looked worried. That was his Boss wiping away his tears with his fingers from his cheeks. How humiliating.

-NCIS-

When Tim refused to eat anything, Gibbs helped him stretch out on the bed. "You'll sleep here tonight. Do you want anything to drink?"

Without waiting for an answer, he strode to the kitchen to bring Tim something alcoholic to drink. It might help with his sleep. If not, Gibbs planned to call Ducky.

Gibbs sat by Tim's side on the bed watching him drinking glass of wine after glass of wine. Soon, the younger man was sagging against him, sadness and tiredness catching up with his already weakened from the journey system. He seemed as if he hadn't slept for day and if Gibbs knew him at all, he could bet he hadn't.

So Gibbs was relieved when Tim's breathing became deeper. He permitted himself to rub his hand up and down on Tim's back, feel his warmth over the thin t-shirt.

Gibbs closed his eyes.

It was just his luck for Shannon's uncle to die his limited time home from deployment. He had only seen the man once –in his wedding day- but apparently he had been Shannon's favourite uncle. Every person of Shannon's close and extended family was there. Some of them were totally unknown to Gibbs; few of them, he actually liked.

It wasn't by far the first funeral to attend, nor had he liked Ron as much as his wife did, but all of the sudden, he felt his years and loss crushing down on him. Shannon talked to him about relatives coming from states the other side of the country, relatives even she didn't know. But her words became mooted when the close family arrived. The dead man's wife and children, looking lost, dressed in all black seemingly not knowing what was going around them. The whole thing might have been an annoyance for Gibbs, but these three people had lost an important part of their lives, and reminded him how fragile life was.

The moment they entered their home, Shannon pushed him against the wall crushing her mouth with his, claiming a very much needed kiss.

Was it sane? Had it been natural to turn her around and crush her against the wall, sharing her pain and lust?

Afterwards, they stood there breathing hard against each other, straightening their clothes, before taking her in his arms letting her cry her hurt on his shoulder with gentleness that lacked in their sexual encounter.

-NCIS-

Suddenly Tim pulled away from him; his face raised upwards staring in his eyes, and bringing him back to the present. He reached out and touched Gibbs' face. The earlier memory reminded him the strange feeling of wanted a life affirming experience in the face of loss and pain. He leaned closer to him, not really knowing what his intentions were, when Tim removed his hand and turned to the other side.

Gibbs surmised sex was not in the younger man's thoughts. But he started talking in a low, monotonous voice.

"She's gone, Boss. One minute they were there, with me and their child, and the next I was at a police station in Rome trying to find them." Tim took a shuddering breath. "I talked them into going out. I told them to go and have some fun and that I would take care of Paul. And I never saw her again. Not alive." Tim's breathing came in ragged gasps and Gibbs reached over to turn him around and pull him closer, the tears burning in his own eyes both for his friend and the people he had lost.

Tim looked back at him, too much at a loss to care about his lost composure. Hiccupping, he pushed himself to continue with his story. "It was my fault. If I hadn't been there they wouldn't have left Paul and they'd never been hit by a drunk driver. They'd have stayed home looking after their baby boy and be safe… and it was my fault, Boss."

The younger man fought against Gibbs trying to pull away from his comforting arms but Gibbs held him tighter until he stopped pushing him away. He wrapped both arms around the young man, settling him against his body.

Tim's tears wetted his shirt but what got to him the most were the words that came afterwards.

"My baby sister is dead, Gibbs."

A.N: Italics mean flashbacks.