He walks along the deserted street, hidden among the creepy shadows of everyday objects. It's cold and it's just starting to get dark. He has forgotten what the weather was like in autumn here, forgotten that jackets and coats here are an essential item rather than an accessory. Of course he should remember, that's what he was trained to do once upon a time. But seven years is a long time and it's even longer for someone who's been measuring the time since he left because there was nothing else to do.
The neighbourhood where he finds himself is not familiar, he's sure he's never been here before. There is a cheery atmosphere around the place and he remembers that it's been some time since he felt true happiness. Seven years to be exact, almost to the day except not quite. It's not quite time to get out the bottle of whisky and a shot glass. It's not quite time to drink himself into oblivion, going to far under that he hopes the pain will never catch him. It never quite works and all he as to show is a broken heart and a pounding head the next morning.
The house in front of him is lovely. Small but in that nice, homely feeling that you're glad to go home to every evening. There is a light on in the front room that spills a yellow glow onto the street. The curtains and shut but there is a chink that he can see through. He can see a brown sofa with a blanket and a cabinet with ornaments inside but there is nobody there. He wonders who lives there; a small family perhaps or a pensioner. He doesn't know. He tries not to think about these things too much but he often finds himself playing the 'what if' game. What if he lived there? With the woman he broke the heart of. What if?
The door to this homely house opens and even more light spills onto the street. A woman comes out holding a black bag. Her hair is in childish pigtails and even from where he's standing, he can see the trademark platform boots of hers. He might have changed a lot in seven years, but she definitely hasn't. Maybe it's a sign, if he believed in such things. Which, of course, he doesn't.
He's about to walk away when the woman notices him. There was a part of him that was hoping she would and hoping she wouldn't. The woman can't speak for a few seconds but when she does there is no trace of the anger that he was expecting. Her voice is pure delight when she screams, "Timmy!"
She races down the steps and he comes forward, meeting her halfway. She reaches out as if she is going to give him a hug but she stops herself. They are practically strangers now, all they once knew of each other fell away the night he got in his car and drove west. He coughs uncomfortably and then says:
"Abby. How have you been?"
Abby squints her eyes at him, as if trying to see the McGee she knew all those years ago when the world was their own. She comes up empty and sighs instead, "Great! How've you been?"
"I'm…" He doesn't know what to say. He's not fine, not at all. But he's not bad either. He's not living on the streets or begging for money. "I'm … I'm just okay."
They both stand awkwardly for the next few moments, trying to decide what to say next. They have no common ground anymore. Finally, Abby says, "Would you like to come in? I've just made cookies!" And they both laugh because it's such an Abby thing to sat and do. Who else would try and invite someone else into their home by saying they had made cookies. Nobody. And that's the point.
"Yeah, I'd love to," McGee says and he follows her inside.
"So, where you been all these years, Tim?" Abby asks, once they're settled on the brown sofa with a plate of warm cookies between them.
McGee decided to tell the truth. "I've been in California. Working as an IT consultant for Apple."
Abby almost spits out the Caf-Pow she has been nursing. "Apple? Wow, I always knew you were good but that's amazing, Tim! I'm so happy for you."
McGee smiles because he knows Abby means it. He looks down at the blanket in his hands. On closer inspection, it has little skulls dotted all over it. McGee bites back a smile, it's so Abby. He's kinda glad she hasn't changed. "What about you?" he asks, "What do you do?"
"The same things as I always have and will hopefully continue to do so. I love my job and wouldn't want to change it for anything," Abby replies and she notices McGee stiffen up at the roundabout mention of NCIS. The place he left with no warning.
His voice is calm though, surprisingly calm. "How is everyone?"
Abby's eyes light up at the mention of her 'family'. "They're great! Gibbs is still there, even though the director told him to retire about five years ago. He insisted that he would just come into work everyday anyway so there was no point. Ducky is still there as well - he's well into his seventies now - and so is Palmer. I must admit that Vance has lasted a lot longer than I thought he would and is still sitting at the top of the pyramid."
McGee knows that she left out the others on purpose. Something's either bad or good. It's a toss-up either way. "And the others."
The light in Abby's eyes fades away. "Tony's good, still going on about inane movie references and he's still claiming that every time we have a case with a wife, it's her."
"And Ziva?" he prompts. His gut - while maybe not as finely tuned as Gibbs', still works proficiently starts to churn. And not in a good way.
"Um, she got shot last week. I mean she's like alive but she's still in hospital 'cause it hit her spleen or something. Doc says that she's be out by Friday." Abby's eyes tear up a little but they soon disappear. Ziva will live, that's the main thing.
"At least she's alive Abs. That's all that matters. You know Ziva, she'll bounce back from anything and everything," McGee soothes. He doesn't feel all that good himself but he knows from experience that if he gets worked up then Abby will get worked up and after that it's impossible to calm her down.
Abby gasps and then looks at McGee, surprise evident in her green eyes. "What?" he asks. He can't think of anything he might have done wrong.
"Nothing. I've just missed you calling me 'Abs'. That's all."
McGee curses himself. That's a nickname that he's lost all right to use. It's a name reserved for 'family' - biological and otherwise alike. "Sorry."
"No, no. I like it. It's kinda like how we used to be. You know, we'd just talk about all kinds of stuff and you'd call me 'Abs'. I miss that." She offers him a weak smile - a pathetic attempt to mask the hurt she's feeling inside. McGee suddenly feels very guilty. But he knows why he left. He knows it was for a good reason.
"Why did you do it Timmy?" Abby suddenly asks, overcome by a moment of courage. "Why did you leave?"
"People were getting hurt because of me. It wasn't just a one off. It was twice within two weeks and it made me realise what a useless partner I was. It wasn't fair. So I just left because I knew if I had formally resigned then you would have all tried to stop me."
Abby's eyes glisten. Seven years without answers. She wasn't expecting that one. "Everyone's fine. Everyone survived. It wasn't your fault. If it was then people would have thought something was up but no-one did." It's a futile attempt to stop him from blaming himself - they both know that. Seven years of blaming himself, a few well meaning words aren't going to stop McGee.
"They barely survived! Ziva got shot twice. Twice! And both times it was my fault. Both times I should have had her six and I didn't. So you can't tell me it wasn't my fault because it was!" McGee feels angry but he's not really sure who at. The obvious answer would be himself but he's not so sure anymore. He's not really sure of anything anymore.
"Ziva's always in the line of fire," Abby offers weakly, "She's always gonna be the one to get shot saving either your or DiNozzo's asses. 'Cause that's just who she is. She literally has no regard for her own life if someone is in trouble. You should have known that." Her tone is unintentionally accusing.
"Well maybe I should have. But I didn't. Okay."
"You still don't get it! She didn't blame you. Nobody did. The only person that blamed you was yourself. You didn't have to leave. You didn't have to!" Abby's voice rises and then dials down to a whisper at the end of her monologue.
"I know," McGee whispers and Abby isn't so sure that he's talking to her anymore.
"Then why did you?" There is no anger anymore. Just an unrelenting weariness that they've both grown accustomed to over the years.
He looks at her as if the answer should be obvious. "Because I couldn't stay."
Okay so it has been brought to my attention that there are other NCIS couples (shocker, i know!) so i thought i'd try my hand at a McAbby fic. I started this on Friday and finished it like ten minutes ago. I really don't feel well so i don't know if this will make sense or not but if nobody likes it then i'll delete it. I really am trying to get a full story published but my insparation has gone and died so if you have any ideas then please tell me. I'm also going to be on holiday next week since it's the Easter holidays in Scotland so i probably won't post anything then :D ~R x