Author's Note: Here's something I wanted to try but haven't done before. Song-fics! I got inspired after reading a few, and got this idea while listening to the song on the radio.
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or Had A Bad Day.
Where is the moment we needed the most
You kick up the leaves and the magic is lost
They tell me your blue skies fade to gray
They tell me your passion's gone away
And I don't need no carryin' on
Tim sighed, his feet shuffling against the fallen brown, decomposed leaves that lay dead on the ground.
They solved the case, just like they always did. Landon, the man who Tim had naively befriended at his local coffee shop, had murdered two people who Tim used as models for characters in his book, and Abby was a close third victim. He had not been aware of the addiction the younger man had shown in his novel, having deluded himself to believing the characters and plot were real.
Gibbs had told him he wasn't responsible, that he wasn't the murderer, but he couldn't help but feel otherwise.
He may not have killed them, but he handed them to the murderer on a silver platter.
Regardless of this entire fiasco, his publisher is still demanding he finish that sequel.
Why?
Couldn't she realize that those people were murdered because he put them in his book?
What if he released another one?
Would more people die?
He would never forgive himself if one of Gibbs's team were killed because he modeled a character after them.
He decided it that night.
He would never again use his beloved typewriter.
You stand in the line just to hit a new low
You're faking a smile with the coffee you go
You tell me your life's been way off line
You're falling to pieces every time
And I don't need no carryin' on
This wasn't the first time something like this had happened.
When he went to Kate's funeral.
When he shot (and possibly killed) that undercover cop.
When he almost lost his job protecting his sister from being charged for murder.
His life seemed to be nothing more then a giant ditch that just got deeper with every passing minute.
The coffee at his desk hadn't surprised him, honestly. Whenever something like this happened, his team would offer their own unique version of their support.
He turned his head and gave Gibbs a soft smile, one that he perfected the art of faking after years of having to hide his emotions. Taking a sip of the more-bitter-then-usual drink, he sat down and began working, and, just like always, ignored the fact that his life was shattering underneath him.
Because you had a bad day
You're taking one down
You sing a sad song just to turn it around
You say you don't know
You tell me don't lie
You work at a smile and you go for a ride
McGee knew how to recover from these sorts of things.
All he had to do was ignore it. Forget about it, just let the topic drop from his computerized and over-worked mind, and this depression, this emptiness, would be gone in no time.
That's how it was done before, why would it be any different this time?
He made no movement during the entire elevator ride, promptly choosing not to hum the music playing softly in the otherwise quiet elevator.
When he reached Abby's lab, he ignored her sympathetic looks, and instead just merely shook his head and continued asking about the evidence for their newest case, another soft and fake smile plastered onto his face as he did.
You had a bad day
The camera don't lie
You're coming back down and you really don't mind
You had a bad day
You had a bad day
Maybe it would be different, though.
Maybe he wouldn't be able to recover from this one.
Maybe this was the end of the line.
He groaned as he slid lower in his chair, and, forgetting about the security cameras that overlooked the bullpen, was grateful for the fact that he was alone.
The last thing he wanted was to drag someone down with him.
Will you need a blue-sky holiday?
The point is they laugh at what you say
And I don't need no carryin' on
Maybe he needed to do something different.
Maybe he needed to change his life in some way.
He had his writing, and that had been something different, something to take his mind off of the stresses that work sometimes made.
And look how that went.
Maybe he needed to try something new, something that wouldn't give his co-workers something to pick on him for.
But what? His life was his work, and his computers, and those two were interlocked.
And he wasn't going back to writing.
You had a bad day
You're taking one down
You sing a sad song just to turn it around
You say you don't know
You tell me don't lie
You work at a smile and you go for a ride
Unlike usual, his depression worsened throughout the day.
Tony's humming of whatever song popped into his mind only reminded Tim of the songs he would listen to when he was writing.
Ziva's glances of concern only reminded him of the reason he was saddened in the first place.
Gibbs's look of 'tell me the truth' had only made Tim realize just how bad the whole situation was.
He responded to all of them with that smile before silently continuing to look out the window the rest of the car ride.
You had a bad day
The camera don't lie
You're coming back down and you really don't mind
You had a bad day
Another criminal caught and put away.
The second the confession was out; McGee had left the observation room and headed towards the bullpen. The faster he could get that report done, the faster he could be out of here.
And the faster that happened, the faster he could be done with this day.
But then what?
He would just wake up and go through the same process again.
And again.
And again.
Sometimes the system goes on the blink
And the whole thing turns out wrong
You might not make it back and you know
That you could be well, oh- that strong
And I'm not wrong
With a heavy sigh, Tim closed the door behind him, not even remembering to lock it as he trudged over to his chair and sat down.
He stared out his window.
This simple system of his, this recovery period…
Doesn't every system glitch?
He was the tech geek, he, if anyone; should know that everything makes its mistakes, isn't always 100% all the time.
Maybe he couldn't recover from this.
Maybe this was too much for him to handle.
Should he just give up? Call it quits?
So where is the passion when you need it the most
Oh- you and I
You kick up the leaves and the magic is lost
So here he found himself, once again, on yet another walk through the park.
He couldn't let this keep going, could he?
This was driving him away from work, and all those he cared about.
The wind rolled gently, the leaves slowly rolling past his not-moving feet.
They went unnoticed, though, his decision had been made, and that was the only thing his mind focused on.
Cause you had a bad day
You're taking one down
You sing a sad song just to turn it around
You say you don't know
You tell me don't lie
You work at a smile and you go for a ride
He never got a wink of sleep that night.
The sound of the typewriter's keys filled the air.
He never stopped once he began to write, not about L.J. Tibbs, but rather his experience.
It all flowed, from his brain to his fingers to the keys, not a single thought being left out from the paper.
And when he finished, he glanced at the paper, before, grinning, picking it out from the typewriter and placing it to the shredder, not caring if the loud sound at three in the morning woke up any of his neighbors.
Sure, he had bad days, everyone did. But he decided that the only way a bad day would truly be bad was if he let it impact his tomorrow.
You had a bad day
You've seen what you like
And how does it feel for one more time
You had a bad day
You had a bad day