A/N: Written for the NFA Hurt/Comfort Challenge. Set in the current season, but without any spoilers. Oneshot

Disclaimer: NCIS is still singing "You don't own me" and it's still true. I don't and I'm not making money...on anything really but especially not on this.

That's Who We Really Are
by Enthusiastic Fish

"Why did I agree to spend my first real day off in a year with you?" Tim got into the car, griping in a voice that was nowhere near as hoarse as it had been a few months before.

"Because you secretly love me, Probie," Tony said, grinning.

Tim rolled his eyes. Don't rise to it. Tony is a friend. He was nice enough to invite you along. No one else would do this...

"McGee, this is an experience you need to have."

"Why?"

Suddenly, Tony was no longer joking. "Because, McGee, you've barely left your apartment other than for work in two months...in the same two months that you've been cleared for duty."

"I'm not into stuff like that," Tim said, uncomfortably.

"Like what? Stuff that involves you actually seeing other people? ...being seen by other people?"

"Yeah."

"McGee, you know that–"

"Tony, wherever we're going, let's just go there," Tim said, cutting him off. He turned his face toward the window.

"You know that I've seen it already, right?"

Tim closed his eyes. The skin grafts wouldn't be so obvious as time went on. The scars would fade, but...but right now...

"I know."

"McGee, it's not as bad as–"

"Save it, Tony!" Tim interrupted again. He was trying not to let anyone see how much he loathed his own appearance...and apparently failing miserably. "I don't need your pity, okay? If that's all this is, you can take me back home."

"This has nothing to do with pity, McGee," Tony said sharply. "This has to do with breaking through your self-pity. You have nothing to be ashamed of, got it?"

"I'm not ashamed," Tim whispered.

"No? Could have fooled me. You don't look at anyone unless you have to. You avoid mirrors. You don't leave your apartment. I know for a fact that you've started having your groceries delivered just so you don't have to go to the store. That's not exactly a stellar example of a healthy mind set."

"I've changed my mind, Tony. Take me back home."

"No."

Tim sighed. "Please, Tony. I appreciate this, but..."

"Tim, have you forgotten what you did to get those scars? How many lives you saved? That you saved us? Because we're not forgetting it."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Six months ago...

"McGee, check out that computer," Gibbs directed. "Tony, shoot and sketch. Ziva, bag and tag."

They all scattered to fulfill Gibbs' orders. No one was here, but that didn't mean they hadn't left anything behind...preferably something incriminating rather than...

"Oh, the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue! I haven't seen this yet!" Tony exclaimed. At Gibbs glare, he continued, "...and that glorious moment will have to wait until I can buy my own copy."

"Get out!" Tim shouted suddenly.

"What?"

"Get..." It was going to take too long. Tim could see it. "Get out of my way!" He picked up the hard drive and ran to the window. He threw it just as the bomb hidden inside it exploded. The glass, the flames, all were driven back toward him. He saw them coming and knew he couldn't get out of the way in time. Instead, he just closed his eyes and hoped it wouldn't hurt too much.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Present...

"I haven't forgotten," Tim said in a low voice. It was true. He'd remember the pain of the last six months for the rest of his life.

"Yes, you have. You've forgotten everything but...but this." Tony gestured at Tim, at his face at the scars from the flying glass, at the skin grafts that made him into some freak of nature.

He hadn't lost consciousness when it all had hit him...but he had been blown backward...into the arms of Gibbs and Tony who had been closest to him. He had lay on the ground after they put out the fires. He remembered going into shock, not being able to see through the blood in his eyes, not being able to do anything but lay there in an ocean of pain. He had been lucky. His instinctive closing of his eyes and throwing up of an arm had protected his eyes from the worst of the flames and glass. That meant, however, that his arm had been severely burned along with the lower part of his face. The skin grafts had taken well, but it would be a while before he stopped looking weird. Shards of flying glass had sliced up pretty much every place that had not been burned, giving his face and neck a distinctly-webbed look.

"It wasn't anything much. If I'd been better at my job, I would have noticed that the tower was different. I would have been able to do more than...than throw the stupid thing out the window."

"Do you know what would have happened if I was the one looking at the computer? We'd probably all be dead because I wouldn't have noticed until a message saying three seconds left came on the screen."

"Tony, you don't have to try and make me feel better. What I did was stupid and I'm paying the price for it."

Tony pulled the car to a stop and looked at Tim in disbelief. "Stupid? Are you nuts? McGee, what you did saved a lot of people. You did the only thing that could be done. You're a hero."

"Maybe I don't want to be a hero, Tony!" Tim shouted suddenly and looked out the window again, wincing at the faint reflection he could see of his own face. "I don't want this! Okay? I don't!"

"Are you saying that you wish you had just let us all die?" Tony asked softly.

"Maybe I am!" Tim retorted but then he stopped. "No... I don't know. I don't know. Whenever I go anywhere, people stare at me...but they don't say anything, and when I meet their eyes, they look away...afraid of actually making eye contact with someone from a horror movie. If I had known...I don't know."

"You wouldn't have done anything different, McGee. If you had known what was going to happen to you back then, you wouldn't have done a single thing different."

"How do you know that? I've wished it...a million times."

"How do I know?" Tony put on a feigned deep thought expression. "Well, let's see...maybe because I know you, McGee...and I know, like you do, how much damage that bomb would have done if it had gone off inside the building rather than out in the alleyway."

"What difference does that make?"

"What difference? You'll see when we get there."

Tim looked at Tony anxiously. "Get where? Where are you taking me?"

"Some people want to thank you."

"No!" Tim protested. "No, Tony. I don't want..."

"I don't care what you want, McGee," Tony said and pulled back into traffic. "I don't know what I have to do to get it into your thick skull that what you did was absolutely amazing, that if you hadn't done it we would be dead, that we can't really thank you enough for it. If you hadn't thought that quickly and thrown the tower out into the alley, the people on either side of us would probably have died. It would have started a massive fire...and you know those apartments aren't high quality. Paper-thin walls. The entire building could have burned to the ground...and all those people who lived there could have died or at best, lost everything they owned...which wouldn't be much."

"I didn't think of any of that. I just reacted. I didn't...really think of anyone. Maybe if I had..."

Tony laughed. "You think that you would have done anything differently if you had known how many people you were going to save? Before you try to answer that, you wouldn't have. You know it. I know it. Some people are just heroes inside. There's nothing you can do about it. You'd have done the same thing if the bad guy had been in the room. You can't help yourself."

Tim didn't respond but he didn't deny it either. He just stared away from Tony, out the window. They drove a few more blocks in silence.

"I'm a freak, Tony. Even at work, people don't know what to say to me anymore. I feel like I have a big neon arrow pointing at my face wherever I go." He looked at Tony, trying to explain. "I was a freak in school but it was just because I was younger and smart...and I was the object of ridicule. Now, I'm a freak because of how I look...and people are not only afraid of me but they don't know how to even be in the same room with me...and I don't blame them."

"That's not going to last forever, you know. In fact, I know you know that because we were all there with you when the doctor was explaining how the skin grafts would work. Once you're all healed up, you can even get cosmetic surgery to get rid of most of the rest of the scarring...if you want, but you know what, McGee? You don't need to do that. You don't need to stress about how you look."

"Easy for you to say. You didn't even get a scratch," Tim said bitterly.

The light turned red and Tony stopped the car. "And wasn't that why you did it? So that I didn't get a scratch?" he asked gently. "So that Gibbs and Ziva wouldn't get hurt? So that no one would get hurt?"

"I didn't want to get hurt either," Tim whispered.

Tony reached out and touched Tim's arm, the grafted one. "I didn't think you did...but, Tim, I have to say that I'm grateful you were there...even if I wish it hadn't happened the way it did. If I could switch places..."

"You wouldn't want to," Tim said.

"No, but I would do it if I could...and if it had been me...wouldn't you feel the same?"

Tim's eyes filled with tears which then spilled over and made strange tracks down his damaged cheek. He nodded.

"You shouldn't be ashamed of how you look, Tim. If people are embarrassed, that's their problem. You've done something not many other people could do: think fast when it counts. You didn't panic. You just did your job. Let the idiots out on the street think what they like. Even if you don't want to be, you are a hero."

"I don't want to be a hero. I just want to be normal. I just want to be the guy that fades into the background and no one notices him. I just want to be unremarkable."

Tony pulled into a parking lot and stopped the car. "Here we are!"

Tim got out with obvious reluctance and looked around at the parking area. "I've been to Rock Creek Park before, Tony. We've investigated murders here. I don't need to see it, again."

Tony walked around the car and faced Tim. "Okay, listen up because this is the only time I'll say it without being sarcastic. What you want is impossible, Tim, because you've never been normal. You can't fade into the background and you're not unremarkable. You can't be because of what you can do and what you have done. Sorry, McGee, you're going to have to put up with being remarkable and important. That's just the way it is. Poor you."

Tim couldn't help but smile. Luckily, Tony was well used to the way Tim looked. Smiling served mostly to emphasize the skin grafts and the extensive scarring. Tony knew why people were put off by Tim's appearance, but he would never encourage him to feel anything but lucky. It was hard enough for Tim, as self-conscious as he could be, to have to deal with his appearance without having to deal with how other people reacted.

"Thanks, Tony."

"Hey, I can be sincere...on rare occasions."

"No...I mean, thanks for...not..." Tim trailed off and gestured at his face.

"You don't need to thank me. I told you that you shouldn't be ashamed of how you look. I'm not bothered by it. Neither is anyone else who matters. Come on!"

Tim nodded and followed Tony across the parking lot to the path. As they walked, he was more nervous than ever. He hadn't really been out...anywhere since coming home from the burn clinic. He supposed that he should be grateful that the burns hadn't been worse. Some of them had been deep, but none to the level of third-degree burns. He heard voices, people talking happily...Abby's voice carrying out over most of them. That made him smile again.

"Almost there."

"How many people are there?" Tim asked, hanging back.

"Just a bunch of people who don't care about how you look," Tony said, grabbing Tim's arm again. "Come on!"

Around a corner, and Tim came upon...a large group of people. NCIS people, but not completely. In fact, he didn't know the majority of the people there. He swallowed and then...

"Hey!" Tony shouted over the noise.

Tim wanted to melt into nothing as everyone stopped talking and looked at him. There was a moment of tense silence...which seemed to Tim to last for a million years...and then...

"Ah, our guest of honor has arrived!" Ducky announced, striding over to Tim. "Timothy, welcome to our little gathering. Tony said he would be able to get you here and I'm pleased that he succeeded."

"What's...what's going on, Ducky?" Tim asked, trying to slump down behind him, just to get away from all the eyes.

"Many of us have not had the chance to express our gratitude for your actions last year...and today, we would like to."

"Ducky, I..." Tim's voice was very low, inaudible to anyone but he and Ducky.

"Please, Timothy," Ducky said, his voice equally low. "Please, allow us the chance to thank you. It's not right for you to hide yourself away."

"It's just that..."

"I understand. Can you swallow your pride just this once?"

Tim paused and looked at the mass of people behind Ducky and then nodded. "Okay. Okay, Ducky."

"Wonderful!" Ducky turned back to his audience as if nothing awkward had happened. He pulled Tim beside him. "We are, as you know, here today to say thank you to a wonderful man who put his own life on the line to save others. Special Agent Timothy McGee suffered from burns on his face, neck and arm when the bomb he discovered exploded. He is still healing, but has recently returned to work at the job he loves. Now, there is food as you can see, and later on, we will ask our guest of honor to say a word or two, but for now, please, enjoy this beautiful and special day."

People clapped and then the noise returned to a normal level. Tim still hung back, but could not avoid the crowds of people. Either someone had warned them how he felt or else they were remarkably astute because they didn't all swarm around him. Abby approached first and hugged him tightly.

"If you get overwhelmed just act like you're drowning and I'll come save you," she whispered in his ear. Then, she kissed his cheek and walked to the food table.

Tim watched her walk away and noticed that Gibbs was watching him. He tried to smile a little and then shrugged.

"Agent McGee?"

Tim turned away from Gibbs at the sound of the voice. There was a man with two children who must be his. They looked just like him.

"Yes?"

"Mitch Larson. We can't stay for long. I have work, but I wanted very much to thank you. No matter what happened in that room, I believe that you saved my kids. They were home alone at the time because I've already lost my wife. I don't think I could have lost my children, too. They're my life. We lived right next door. Thank you."

"You...You're welcome," Tim answered. He put out his hand, but Mitch hugged him briefly.

"Are you going to be okay?" the girl asked. She was about seven years old...and very short. Tim knelt down.

"Yes. I am. It will take time, but I'll get better."

"Does it hurt?" the boy asked, his eyes fixated on Tim's cheek. That was where the worst of the burns had occurred, a swath running from just below his right eye and down to his neck.

"Sometimes, not much anymore."

"Can I touch it?" he asked.

"Jonathan!" Mitch exclaimed. "I'm sorry."

"No." Tim shook his head. "No, it's all right. You can touch it, Jonathan. Just be gentle. My skin isn't very strong yet."

Tentatively, Jonathan brushed a light finger over Tim's healing skin.

"Weird," he said appreciatively and then he smiled.

Tim smiled back and wondered why this didn't bother him.

"Yeah," he agreed.

"Can I touch it, too?"

"What's your name?" Tim asked.

"Marissa."

"Yes, Marissa, you can."

Another light finger ran across his cheek.

"It is weird. It will get better?"

"Yes. Eventually...but I'll always have some scars from it."

"I have a scar!" Jonathan announced.

"Really? Where?" Tim asked.

Jonathan rolled up his pant leg to reveal a long thin scar running across his knee.

"Wow. What happened?"

"I tripped up the steps. It really hurt. Did that hurt?"

"Yeah, it did."

"Mine doesn't hurt anymore."

"Soon mine won't either."

"Good."

"Jonathan, we've got to go."

"Okay." Mitch took a hold of his son's hand and looked at Tim once more. "Was it worth it, Agent McGee?"

Taken aback by the question, Tim was quiet for a few seconds. Then, he nodded. "Not always, but right now?" He looked down at Marissa and Jonathan. "Right now, it was."

Mitch smiled and then walked away with his two children. Tim watched them go.

"McGee, are you hungry?"

Tim looked back and saw Ziva. "Yeah, a little."

"Come. There will be no food left if you keep standing around here." She took his hand and led him to the tables. As he filled a plate, other people from the apartment building came up to him to say thank you for what he had done. Most, as Tony had said before, were not very wealthy and that building housed all their worldly possessions. Some of them didn't even have a bank account and lived from paycheck to paycheck. All were grateful...and if they seemed a bit uncomfortable around him, they didn't make him feel any worse than he had before.

There was always one of his close friends nearby. He noticed them hovering, just in case he needed them. Just noticing that helped him continue in the conversations he had with the people he didn't know. Finally, after about an hour or so, when everyone had eaten and the conversation was slowing down, Ducky stood up once more.

"I believe now would be a good time to hear from our guest of honor. Timothy?" he asked.

Tim swallowed and looked around for a moment, searching for an avenue of escape. Then, he acceded to the inevitable and walked to the head of the group. He gathered his thoughts in silence, trying not to give in to the temptation to hide his face from all the staring eyes.

"Um...well...I...I'm much better at writing things than speaking out loud." He smiled at the soft titters. "It's been...six months since...well, since this happened." He gestured at his face. "I never thought of myself as really vain about my appearance...not nearly as much as Tony."

"Hey!"

More laughter.

Tim grinned. "But...it's been really hard...looking the way I do. I'm...getting better, but...well, it's hard because I know that my looks are against me." No one laughed this time. "So many of you have thanked me for what I did, but really...I don't feel like I deserve thanks. I was just doing my job, and I've often felt that I was doing pretty sloppy work of it. No one is supposed to get hurt when we do our job well, but...talking with you and...and with my friends...I think that...that I regret it a little less." Tim shifted uncomfortably. "I can't say that I don't mind what happened to me because I managed to help so many of you...but...as a fairly wise friend of mine told me just today, I wouldn't have done anything differently even if I had known what would happen. Thank you all for...for being able to look at me as a normal person. Thank you for being here."

Tim stopped talking and sank down on the nearest bench. The applause began softly but increased in volume. Abby hugged Tim as the noise swelled. Then, Ducky stood once more and thanked everyone for coming. Tim didn't really notice. He was thinking about what he had said. Then, he was dragged from his thoughts by everyone saying good-bye, thanking him again and again. He smiled and accepted their gratitude, but he was glad when they were all gone. He released a tension he hadn't even been aware he'd been feeling.

He looked around. Ducky was making arrangements to clear away what remained of the food. Tony was...helping. Jimmy was really helping. Ziva and Abby were cleaning up the garbage left behind. Tim stood to help them.

"McGee."

He turned.

"Yeah, Boss?"

"We should have done this a long time ago."

"I don't know if I would have been ready for it," Tim said honestly.

Gibbs nodded in acceptance of that. "Are you really going to be all right?"

"Eventually. I'm not sure when."

"You need anything. You let us know."

"I'm going to need your help...getting out. I'm afraid to..."

Tim broke off at the sound of a conversation occurring just out of sight.

"Did you see that man over there?"

"Which one?"

"Which one? The one who looks like the Phantom of the Opera without a mask on."

"Oh. I wonder what happened. It seems like..."

The voices faded as the pair walking out of hearing distance. Tim's eyes were fixed straight ahead.

"...of that," he continued softly. "I'm afraid of that. I don't want people talking about me, staring at me, thinking that I'm some horrific monster."

"They don't. We don't."

Tim took a deep breath.

"Really, Tim. We don't."

The awkward silence that hung in the air for the next few seconds was broken when Abby and Ziva suddenly stormed out of the trees, both looking angry and satisfied.

"Did you hear them, Tim?" Abby demanded.

Tim nodded. "...but it's okay."

"It is not okay," Ziva said. "And we let them know it is not okay. It is people like that who should learn to keep their mouths closed. That is simply rude and I will not stand for it."

"I won't either. Those are two silly people who will think twice before talking about my geek again."

Tim's eyes shone with tears. His eyes had not been damaged at all by the bomb. They were clear. Even with the tears, his marred face stretched into a smile.

"Thanks," he said.

"It is the least we could do, McGee," Ziva said.

"No...it's the most. Thank you," Tim said. "Thank you."

Abby flung her arms around him. "Tim, we don't care if you're the hunchback of Notre Dame...I mean, you're not, but if you were, we wouldn't care. We care about you and that's what's important. Don't listen to them...or actually, you should listen, get their names and addresses and we'll track them down."

Tim laughed and hugged Abby back. It was those little speeches she made. It was impossible not to smile at them.

"What's going on?" Tony asked as he, Ducky and Jimmy came over. "A group hug?" He opened his arms facetiously.

"Yes!" Abby declared and stretched out one arm to Tony and pulled him in. "Group hug!" she ordered.

"Abby, you don't–" Tim began, but Abby shushed him.

They all gathered around and had a group hug that nearly squeezed the life out of the ones in the middle, but Tim didn't want them to let go. He thought it was silly, slightly embarrassing and incredibly saccharine, but he found that he didn't care. He just wanted his friends with him.

The hug did end, and more than one of them had tears in their eyes as they continued cleaning up. Tim began to help pick up some of the trash, but, again, Gibbs stopped him briefly.

"We'll be there, Tim. Every time. That's a promise."

Tim nodded and for the first time since he'd woken in the hospital, he didn't think about his injuries.

"I know you will be, Boss. I know."

"Every time, McGee," he repeated. "It's the least we can do for a hero."

Tim blushed...on half his face. "You're the heroes to me."

Together, they finished cleaning up the picnic area and then, they went their separate ways, apart but not alone.

FINIS!