A/N: This fic has been in and out of writing for the past year and I finally got the inspiration to finish it just recently. The McGee/Gibbs relationship has always been a favourite of mine and now we've been getting to see it a lot more recently. I really hope that continues. Enjoy!

DISCLAIMER: However much I wish I owned this show and its characters, I really don't.

Stranger in the House

Footsteps echoed through the hollow basement that encased a hollow man. A mixture of sawdust and bourbon filled his nostrils and McGee remembered thinking that even if he came here a thousand times, he would never get used to it. He knew his teammates had sought solace here, seeking advice from their boss, a man of few words but infinite wisdom. Some would call it a sanctuary, a place where secrets were spilled, never to be brought up again.

He reached the last step, unsure of how to proceed. This was unknown territory, this place, this whole sorry situation.

Gibbs didn't even glance up from sanding the newly-made 'Joan' when he whispered, '"McGee, sit down, you're making the place look untidy."

He stepped forward cautiously, a nearby stool catching his eye. "Yes, boss."

He wondered briefly if this is what it felt like for the others. Wondered if they were ever nervous to voice their insecurities in fear of judgement from the one person who had led them through life better than the people they were supposed to trust most in the world.

Gibbs grabbed a mug and refilled it with bourbon. He was seemingly uninterested in the beverage as he swirled it around the cup, staring right into the eye of the tornado it made. He looked up at the young agent, his eyes questioning McGee's presence in his basement on a Friday night. "Whatcha doing here, Tim?"

"I just never thought it would be this hard, ya know?" The rhetorical question hung in the air and Gibbs gestured for him to continue. "... coping." His throat went dry and he looked down, like voicing this was some kind of weakness. Gibbs walked over to his boat and leant on it, directly facing McGee. "I think about what that bomb did to us everyday."

"Me too." Gibbs took a swig of his bourbon and McGee wondered if he was going to talk again, but when he didn't, he continued.

"I think about... glass flying my face and being knocked out. I think about being the only one awake in the bullpen after it hit. I think about being surrounded by the dead bodies of people I used to see everyday and the fact that there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. But mostly I just think about us going back to normal."

"It's just gonna take time. We all went through a lot that day."

Memories came flooding back of him waking up from sleeping to find Abby hovering his hospital bed, desperation on her face. She looked like she'd been through the wars. Gibbs was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room, but was up as soon as he saw his eyes flicker open. Tony and Ziva were nowhere in sight. He been in and out of consciousness and vaguely remembered a paramedic telling him to stay awake, but he just couldn't.

"Where... Tony... Ziva." He just about managed to get the words out, his voice hoarse and his throat sore.

Gibbs was the first to speak. "They're getting looked over. Tony has a concussion and Ziva's battered and bruised but they should be fine."

McGee managed a small smile. "At least... Ducky and... Jimmy... safe", he breathed.

Abby looked like she was going to burst into tears and she exchanged a worried look with Gibbs.

McGee's heart rate went up a couple of beats and he coughed a hoarse "What?" Did Dearing get to them somehow? He couldn't have. He could feel himself slipping from consciousness again. His breathing became laboured and he just wanted them to hurry up and tell him what was going on.

"Ducky... got the call and he had a heart attack while he was on the phone. The person on the other end realised something was wrong and called Jimmy." Abby's eyes started welling with tears.

"He... okay?" What had they done to deserve this? He wasn't a believer in God, but he didn't believe in coincidences either.

"He's stable. We'll know more when Jimmy calls us later on." Gibbs sat back down, putting his head in his hands.

Tony and Ziva walked in at the moment, or rather Ziva walked in, with Tony slightly leaning on her for support. "Doc's given us the all clear." He sighed. Abby went over to hug Ziva and she flinched at the contact, her bruises causing her pain. But Abby didn't let go and Ziva relented. They embraced for what seemed like forever.

That the was the last thing he remembered before he slipped back into darkness.

The flashback ended and McGee said, "I just wish... I wish I could turn back time so we could stop Dearing sooner or... maybe stop Tony and Ziva from getting in the elevator or maybe I could have actually listened to what I was supposed to do."

Gibbs' facial expression didn't change but McGee was sure that a lightbulb had gone off in his head. "Tim... just because you went back doesn't make you a bad agent. It makes you a good one." Gibbs walked over and gripped McGee's shoulder. "You cared about getting this bastard put away just as much as rest of us."

"But am I supposed to care about it more than my life?" Tim got up from his stool and then strolled forward a few steps, stopping just short of the stairs. He turned. "I'm thinking about taking some time off."

"Whatever you need." He nodded. McGee went to leave. He was halfway to the door when Gibbs said, "We risk our lives everyday... it's what we signed up for."

"I know," he replied, "I think I just need to do more things with my life before the next bomb threat comes along."

Gibbs nodded again and went back to 'Joan'. McGee's face broke out in a hint of a smile and he continued up the stairs. He needed to go see Abby.

FIN