Being True

by jlencre

At a crossroads even though he doesn't realize it, Agent Timothy McGee makes a decision that affects his future and the futures of others within NCIS. A Season 8 "Dead Air" Fix-It story.

To thine own self be true, and it must follow…

"And that, lady and geek, is a woman who could give a man a reason stay home from work. I'm guessing she's a 38-24-36 with abs Beyonce would kill for. She actually reminds me of this one sorority sister I –"

"Arrahhh!" Ziva slammed her hand against the dash of the car, making Tim worry that she was about to set off both their airbags.

"What?!" he exclaimed. They'd definitely need Tony's bullshitting abilities to get them out of hot water with the motorpool if she really did set off the airbags. Actually, he'd just read the study about airbags possibly contributing to head and neck injuries in minor traffic accidents. Crap. He really didn't need a broken nose or a concussion. Hopefully he could appease her before there was significant damage to the car… or to him. She'd been with them years, and she still made his "boys" want to hide up inside his body.

She turned to him with a furious glare. "I cannot take his ridiculous, juvenile gabbling for one more second!"

McGee frowned. Great. She was going to take exception to Tony's babbling – he was pretty sure that was what she actually meant.

"Ziva, he's getting voice prints. Yeah, he can get annoying in the office, and his commentary –" he winced. "yeah, that's a little much, but Tony's actually working the case this time. This is what the Boss told him to do."

Tim was the first to admit that DiNozzo frequently drove him crazy. He was loud, teased him with a million and one "Mc-" names, annoyed him with practical jokes, embarrassed him in front of attractive women, and yes, acted juvenile and sometimes ridiculous. But that's not all there was to him. If it were, Gibbs would have kicked him to the curb long ago. Hell, Gibbs would have kicked him to the curb and then run over him with his truck. Gibbs had little patience for the mere mortals in his life. He certainly wasn't going to put up with a fool like DiNozzo pretended to be.

Part of what annoyed Tim so much about his teammate was that DiNozzo could pull all the crap he did and then manage to come up with the lead or theory that broke the case, and then have his paperwork turned in before Tim was three-fourths finished with his own.

"I do not care, McGee!" Ziva slammed her book shut. "If this car is not silent within thirty seconds, I am going to strangle someone!"

The way she was eying his neck meant he didn't have to question whom she planned to strangle.

"I don't know what you expect me to do about it," he snapped at her. "This is the job. If you can't handle sitting here, maybe you should trade places with Tony."

Ziva practically growled. "I cannot. Gibbs said if this is a white toast community, my accent would not be welcome." It was clear what she thought that.

"Whitebread, not white toast," Tim corrected. "Fine. Do you want me to trade places with him? Then you'd be listening to me instead of him."

"White bread, white toast, I do not care, McGee. I am going insane, and I am not going to sit here and suffer any longer!" She huffed out and tossed her head. "Besides, if you were out there," she said with a gesture, speaking to him slowly as if he were an idiot. "Then he would be in here. I would still have to listen to him, and I do not have the patience today. I would kill him, and then Gibbs would be upset that I had messed up the case."

She slammed the dash again and threw her book forward into the space between the dash and the window with enough force he was concerned for the integrity of both.

"You might have some way to block out the noise from your mind so you can sit and read your magazine, but in Mossad, we are trained to hear and understand every sound, at all times. Whether we want to or not. I cannot shut out his whiney, annoying gabbling, and I refuse to listen to it any longer. Do something, or I will!"

"Shit, Ziva! Take it easy!" Tim yelled in alarm. "I already told you that he's doing his job. It's not like we can turn off the sound or anything. I don't know what else to say."

Tim felt queasy, but it was more likely the ulcer his team was giving him, not some famous "gut" instinct like Gibbs had. The queasy feeling intensified when Ziva suddenly went calm, almost pleased.

"Yes. That is exactly what we will do. Turn it off. Now," she demanded, obviously expecting instant obedience.

Tim knew his eyes had gone wide. His magazine – last month's edition of Hi Tech that he hadn't had a chance to read yet – was clenched in his left hand, and he could feel the glossy cover start to slip from his sweaty fingers. He wanted to agree just to keep the peace. He actually reached forward and had his fingers on the knob before a glance at her face out of the corner of his eye caused a sensation not unlike one of Gibbs' legendary head slaps.

She looked so satisfied. It was more than satisfaction that the noise would be gone. It was like she was pleased that she had managed to bully him again, pleased he had obeyed. He couldn't breathe because even that wasn't quite right either. It finally hit him. She was happy he had finally hit on what she had wanted in the first place. She knew turning off the sound would be breaking procedure, but she wanted him to do it so she wouldn't get in trouble.

He was dumbfounded.

"No. We can't shut off the sound." He took his hand off the volume knob and looked her in the eye. He was not going to play the gutless wonder this time. "That would leave Tony without backup. Our whole reason for being in the car is to watch his six. We can't do that if we don't know if he's in trouble." Tim was surprised at how calm his voice was since he could practically hear his heart pounding. He wondered if Mossad agents were trained to smell fear like some animals could. He really wouldn't put it out of the bounds of reality for Ziva's skills.

Rage flickered over her face, and he briefly thought she might actually kill him.

"Ziva, I think you need a break," he tried, hoping to appease her without screwing over himself – and Tony. "Totally understandable. Why don't you go for a walk around the block and clear your head? As long as you have your cell so you're not breaking Rule #3, and I'm here listening so Tony has backup, it should be okay."

She bared her teeth at him, and snarled, "I am not going anywhere." She reached out and turned off the audio. "And if you touch that, I will break all your fingers. If you are lucky." She gave him a vicious smile and grabbed her book from the dash, opening it once more. "See how easy it is to write your novels with broken fingers… or none at all."

Tim automatically glanced down and noted that the "bookmarker" was had taken out of her book was actually a thin throwing knife. Had she just threatened to cut off his fingers?! Speechless, Tim just stared at her until her face melted into a pleased look once more.

The magazine finally dropped from McGee's nerveless fingers, and he jumped. He was still watching her face, so he noticed the smug smile that flickered across her lips and was gone again.

Tim took several slow breaths and tried to figure out what to do. This was more than just not wanting to listen to Tony, but there was no way he was going to be able to figure out what when he was sitting next to someone who reminded him of a criminally insane character from a novel and not his teammate.

Glancing at his magazine on the floor, he undid his seatbelt and leaned forward to pick it up. The question was, what was he going to do now? He couldn't very leave Tony out there without anyone on his six. He sure as hell didn't want to be trapped in the car with psycho-Ziva either.

"A-a-alright," he stuttered. "You don't need a walk, but I think I do. I have my cellphone if your hear –" He stopped. She wasn't going to hear anything. The audio was off. "If anyone needs to reach me," he finished lamely as he opened the door and stepped out.

"Perhaps a walk will help you clear your head, Tim." Ziva smiled faux-pleasantly.

'Not very likely,' Tim thought to himself, but replied, "I'm sure it will."

He started walking in the direction of the last house number he'd heard Tony say before Ziva had turned the speaker off. He was a federal agent, damn it! He needed to figure out what he was going to do. First priority was covering Tony's six. No matter how pissed off he got, he'd never leave him out there with no backup. Once he did that, he needed to figure out what he was going to do about crazy-Ziva.

Tim took off his jacket and carefully draped it over his arm so it covered his sidearm. It was too hot to be walking around in a suit. He didn't care if Tony could do it and make it look like he wasn't sweating buckets under his Armani. Tim wasn't even going to pretend he could, nor was he going to leave his suit jacket with Ziva. She would probably shred it with her throwing knife today.

He still didn't get what was going on with her. She'd been with them for years. Before that, she'd been with Mossad for who knows how long. She had to know that an op could go from a calkwalk to a shitstorm, and they were doing this to find a murderer, not a jaywalker. She had to know Gibbs would kill them both for leaving Tony without backup, and that was if everything turned out okay. If something happened….

Tim shuddered. They'd be lucky not to end up on the FBI's Most Wanted, not matter how much Vance liked him. Gibbs may like him, well, tolerate anyway. But Tony was like his kid. Gibbs would make them pray for death if anything happened to Tony. Surely Ziva knew that!

Then her words filtered back through his mind:

I would kill him…. ….Gibbs would be upset that I messed up the case.

Crap. There was something else going that he didn't have time to figure out now, not if he was going to come up with a way out of this thing. Tim had made it to where he could see Tony without being observed, so now he had to decide. There were times he really wished he had some of Tony's out-of-the-box thinking. Hmm… maybe that was it.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed.

"Ducky. I need your help."

NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS

"So where's the ring?"

"Ah…." Tony realized he still had his hand up and quickly put it down. He opened his mouth again, not really sure what he was going to say next to the housewife who must've watched American Beauty a few too many times. He was relieved when he was interrupted by the distinctive sound of a car horn.

Turning to the road, he was shocked to see a very familiar Morgan pulling abruptly to the curb, and Ducky himself opening the driver's side.

Ducky stood with one foot on the street and the other in the car, leaning over the door to growl, "Well? What are you waiting for, young man? Get in the bloody car!"

"Wha – what? Is something wrong?" A million scenarios flashed through his mind, each worse than the next.

"You're damned right something is wrong!" Ducky bellowed. "But it went wrong nine months ago when my darling daughter let a miscreant like you put your hands on her! Now we're all suffering, though I dare say she is enduring the worst right now, as she is the one in writhing in agony as she brings forth your child! Now, stop dawdling and get in the bloody car!"

The slamming door behind him reminded Tony of his original task. He briefly turned to look at the door but shook off his unease. He had no idea what was going on, but he was going to follow directions for now. The last three blocks of houses would have to wait.

"Yes, sir!" Tony trotted down the sidewalk and around the front of the Morgan to obediently get in the passenger side, noting Tim was in the back looking worried.

"So anybody going to tell me what this is about?" he asked as Ducky used one of the driveways to turn around and they got on their way.

NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS

From the miniscule back seat, Tim watched Tony carefully deal with the recording equipment he'd been wearing as Tim explained what had happened in the car and why he'd brought Ducky in to help. Tony's face had gone from jovial and animated to blank and still. He was shocked when the first thing out of Tony's mouth was,

"It's my fault."

"What? How can you even say that?"

"Indeed, dear boy. You were only completing the task Jethro had assigned you. You certainly cannot be held accountable for Ziva's actions. From Timothy's description, there is something quite wrong with the girl."

Tony shook his head, his lips pressed tightly together. "I'm the SFA. Part of my duties is to help train probationary agents. Ziva's actions are a reflection of my training, Ducky. If she's unclear of the importance of backup, then I've failed to teach that concept to her. If she disrespects me so much she doesn't care whether or not I have backup, then that's on me too." His laugh was a harsh, grating sound that turned into a cough. "You can't tell me you haven't wished I came with an 'off' switch before, McGee. I know I get on your nerves."

"Tony, that's bullshit," Tim said fiercely. "Yeah, you've harassed me. You've pranked me. You give me annoying McWhatever names. But I remember when I first came to the team and could hardly string two words together for being so terrified all the time. You were the one who gave me a chance and then took the time to train me and – at times, yes – to torment me into being an agent who could take what the job dishes out every day.

"There is a huge difference between a joke at the office and knowingly and willfully disobeying procedure and common sense." He poked Tony's shoulder in emphasis. "The thought has never entered my mind that you wouldn't have my six. Ever. You made sure I understood the importance of backup before I was officially on the team. Ziva knows too, which is what makes her actions today her fault, not yours. "

Tim wanted to shake his partner when Tony still refused to look at him, and that stubborn set to his jaw had come back. He saw Ducky glance at him in the rearview mirror and then at Tony. Maybe he would have better luck.

"Well said, Timothy. There is no circumstance when it is acceptable to leave one's partner in the field without backup. Even had you never addressed the concept, and I have no doubt you did, it is in the rules and procedures for field agents. She would not have been permitted in the field if she had not signed off on that manual stating she read and understood it. If she lied, that is not on you. Surely you do not believe Gibbs would send you in the field if he did not believe your team had your back? And to threaten to break or cut off Timothy's fingers… that is absolutely beyond the pale!"

Tony closed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair. Tim always worried when his SFA expressed any agitation. Tony never gave away anything, so seeing his distress set off warning bells. He was certain that Tony was so hurt and pissed off that he wasn't sure what would come out of his mouth if he opened it. As if to prove Tim right, Tonys kept silent on the rest of the drive back to the Navy yard.

"Well, no matter the cause, now you both must deal with the consequences. This will not be easy," Ducky stated solemnly. "I wish you both luck."

"Thanks, Ducky," Tim said quietly as the three entered the elevator, hitting the down arrow.

"We have to see that Abby gets the voice samples so she can start processing them right away," Tony explained, his voice husky like he was going hoarse.

"Ah, yes." Ducky held the doors after they'd reached the floor and both men had stepped out. "And Anthony, dear boy, you will come see me if your throat or that cough get any worse. You may have been exposed to something you are allergic to, and we will want to keep a close watch. Young Bradley will have both our heads if you develop a lung infection."

Tony nodded. Looking at him with a raised brow, Tim replied for them both, "Got it, Duck. I'll make sure he takes care of himself."

Ducky nodded and hit the down arrow once more, allowing the doors to begin to close.

"You do that, Timothy. Watch his back."

Tim smiled wryly, parroting Tony's habitual response to Gibbs. "On it."

NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS

They had left the voice samples with Abby and fled as quickly as possible, and Tim and marveled at how adept Tony was with his masks. Abby would never suspect that anything was wrong, though she did make Tony drink some of her CaffPow to soothe his throat.

Tim wondered if maybe he was just realizing it now because he'd been witness to them dropping as the full impact of betrayal hit Tony in the car. He'd said and done some pretty nasty stuff to Tony before. Oh, he hadn't done anything like this, of course, but it made him wonder how many times Tony had taken the hit, been hurt, but been able to keep the mask up.

A few weeks ago, Tim had been talking with his sister when she'd made a few pointed comments about how he spoke about his colleagues. Her comments had spurred an internal reflection that hadn't left him feeling very good about himself. He was ashamed of his own behavior, especially when he thought back on different things he and Ziva had teamed up against Tony to do to the SFA.

Tim hadn't thought anything about it at the time, but now he had to wonder if he had been so happy to be the bully this time instead of being bullied that he'd forgotten to consider the effects of his actions. Working with someone didn't require liking them, but it did require showing respect, and they'd – he'd shown Tony precious little of that for a long time now. No wonder Tony's first thought was that Ziva didn't respect him. Maybe she didn't, and he'd been too willfully blind and too foolish to see what he was doing.

Coming to a decision, Tim reached out and stopped Tony before they got back to the elevator.

"I need to talk to you a minute. There's an empty meeting room on second floor."

Tony shook his head. "Let's just get this case closed. We can talk later."

"No, I need to talk to you now," Tim said firmly. He pressed the button for second floor rather than third and refused to move from in front of the control panel despite the irritated look he was given.

Tony sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine, McTimeWaster. I'm not explaining to Gibbs why we didn't report back immediately, especially if Abby gets a match before we get up there."

That was fine because if this went the way Tim hoped it would, he would be the one facing off with Gibbs anyway.

They were both silent from the elevator to the meeting room until Tim shut the door and turned to look at Tony.

"I need to know…" Tim began awkwardly, but stopped and took a breath. "I need to – I – "

"Just spit it out, Tim," Tony said, sounding tired.

Tim rubbed his forehead, irritated with himself.

"Tony, do you think I don't respect you?" he blurted.

Tony looked away with a cynical smile. "I think you used to," he said finally. "I'm not sure when you stopped, but it became clear even to me when Gibbs was on his Mexican siesta that you don't. I thought maybe you did when we were on the op in Somalia, but that might have been just so we could get Ziva back." He shrugged, his expression bitter. "You still know you can learn some things from me, so I think you tolerate me better than Ziva does because at least you think I'm useful. But honestly, McGee? I'm surprised you weren't on board with getting a little time to relax rather than having to trail my ass in the hot sun. Maybe if Ziva had been less… aggressive, you might have been."

"Damn it!"

Tony jumped, stunned at the force of Tim's curse.

"That's what I was afraid of," Tim admitted. He began pacing the width of the room, biting his lip and rubbing his chin, his elbow cupped in his other hand. He stopped when he caught Tony eying the door behind him.

"No, wait," he held out a hand to stop Tony from leaving, then settled his hand on Tony's arm. "Look, I've been asking myself for a while now what was wrong with our team. Why did I suddenly start dreading coming in to work? Then a conversation with my sister made me take a hard look at my own behavior. Today, I was wondering how everything could have gone so wrong that this could happen without any clues. But it occurred to me when I was talking with Sarah that you're partially right. The way I've behaved – especially during Gibbs' Mexican siesta, when I should have had your six and instead blew off work to write my novel – has been really crappy. The pranks you play are pretty harmless. Your jokes are frequently in poor taste." He snorted. "Half the time I think you do it purposely just to get a rise out of us. But you're never mean unless you're striking back for something Ziva or I have said or done." He huffed a little in frustration.

"I've always respected you, Tony. I apologize for treating you like I did because you're right. Actions say a hell of a lot more than words. I've always been jealous of you, but you never deserved to be treated like Ziva and I have."

"Jealous of me?" Tony scoffed and moved away, kicking at one of the chairs around the oval table in the center of the room. "Why the hell would you be jealous of me? You're the one with the degrees, the computer savvy, and the respect of the director. I'm just a cop who got a lucky break!"

Tim gaped at him. "Are you crazy? Is that really how you see yourself?"

Tony stared back like Tim was the one who had lost his mind.

"Wow. I never knew." He shook his head. "Yeah, Tony. I've been jealous of you. Everyone loves you. The second you meet people, the women want to date you and the guys want to be you. Half the time I wanted to be you! You could charm Bill Gates into buying a Mac, for Pete's sake!"

Tony snickered but blushed a little, which made Tim grin back before continuing seriously, "At first, I was scared of you because you reminded me of the popular jocks who shoved me into my locker in high school and would've killed me in college if I'd ever made it on their radar. Then I was just jealous because it was obvious how much Gibbs relied on you, even if he never said anything. I looked it up, and you're the only person he has ever recruited to be on his team."

Tony objected, "Kate –"

Tim shook his head. "I got into some records I'd probably go to jail for even knowing exist, but I got the whole story. I think Gibbs felt bad for forcing her to admit her relationship, which would've ruined her career. You know how he is. I figure he thought she was smart and had some ethics, so he could make an agent of her even if she didn't make it on his team."

"Huh," Tony considered, "I never thought about it that way."

"We'll probably never know, but I think that's what happened. And I know how I made it onto the MCRT – you."

"Gibbs is the one who requested you, McGee," Tony protested.

It was Tim's turn to snort and roll his eyes. "Yeah, he did. Except he told me exactly how that came about. It was when I'd ended up riding with him in the car somewhere, and I was bitching about you. He slapped the back of my head – and let me tell you, riding with him is terrifying, but having him take one had off the wheel so he can look at you to head-slap you ads a whole new element of seatbelt clutching, let me tell you. He told me to shut up. That when I'd first worked with you guys, he wanted ship me back to cyber because he thought I wasn't worth the trouble it would take to break me in, but you were the one to keep requesting me back by name. He said you were the one who told him you wanted me on the team."

Tony rubbed the back of his neck, embarrassed, but admitted, "He said, 'if you bring him home, DiNozzo, you're responsible for making sure he's housebroken.'"

Tim rolled his eyes, but grinned. It was such a Gibbs thing to say.

"See? I owe my career to you. I damn sure owe my place on the team to you. Gibbs would have chewed me up and spit me out within hours. Don't think I haven't heard stories about the probies who went out for lunch and never came back!"

Tim leaned against the table. He was pleased to see that Tony relaxing enough to laugh with him at that.

With a deep sigh, Tim circled around to the main reason he had requested to speak with his teammate. "I absolutely do respect you, Tony, even when I'm pissed off at you. We were kind of friends before Ziva got here, and I guess I just got so busy thinking I had a partner in crime to prank you back that I didn't realize nothing was funny anymore. Instead of being entertaining, a lot of the stuff we've done and said to you has ended up being malicious."

"Oh, hey now, Probie. It's not like I don't give as good as I get," Tony admonished, pacing over to the wall next to the door and crossing his arms.

"Oh, I know, believe me!" Tim acknowledged with a mock glare. He turned serious once more, "but that's the thing. You don't start it, and it's obviously gone way too far when you think you've been working with people who don't respect you. I'm not sure if you're stronger than I am for hanging in there when you had to be wondering if you could trust us." Tim started pacing again, one hand pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Maybe you're right," he confessed, finally stopping and facing Tony. "Maybe if things had been different, I might have gone along with Ziva, might have let her bully me and then just played it off as a prank. It's really difficult for me to admit, but I honestly don't know. What I do know is that I'm really glad I got my head out of my ass now because I don't want to be the jerk I seem to have become somewhere along the way. I want you to know that I get you, that I realize there's a lot more to Tony DiNozzo than the frat-boy prankster."

Tony raised a brow and gave him a challenging look. Well, fine. Tim could put his cards on the table. It was probably way past time he did so.

"I know you're a good man who is smarter than he likes to show. I know you're a better investigator than I'll ever be because while I see everything as separate facts and pieces of the puzzle, you see the whole puzzle and pick out and line up the details that matter."

Tony looked like he wanted to say something, so Tim raised his hands, palms toward Tony in a warding motion. "No, let me finish. I know you act like you're a misogynistic womanizer, but only when you want to get a rise out of someone. The truth is you're a really nice guy. You treat women with respect. I heard about what you did for Delores Bromstead when you were her Secret Santa. There is no way the narcissistic, womanizing person you pretend to be would out of his way like that for someone. You've helped me, covered for me, and protected both me and Ziva from the Wrath of Gibbs more times than I can count, and probably more than I will ever know. And that's in spite of thinking we don't respect you."

Tim took a deep breath and forced himself to finish. "Tony, I know that I've been an asshole to you, that I've treated you like crap. I know that I've had my 'Gibbs-type head-slap,' and I'm awake now. I know when I apologize, you'll probably forgive me because that's how you are. You don't hold grudges even when maybe you should. I am sorry, Tony. I don't care about rule 6 because it's taken more strength and courage for me to own up to who I've become and what I've been doing than it ever did to have my head up my ass or a permanent position kissing Ziva's. I think I'm the one who needs to work to regain your respect, and I want the chance to do that. I want a chance at your friendship, and I want to be someone you always can trust to have on your six."

Tim watched anxiously as Tony studied him, totally serious for once. It was a little unnerving being under the laser-eyed focus of a serious DiNozzo, and he had to wonder if this was a glimpse of the real Tony DiNozzo.

"Wow," Tony said, finally, blowing out a long breath of air. "I don't really know what to say to that. Of course I forgive you. And I'm sorry for any pranks I've pulled that have crossed the line, Probie. You're right. I think we got so into hitting each other's soft spots that we forgot there even was a line we shouldn't cross. I originally started pranks because of how much this job can get to you. It's easy to burn out if you can't step back, take a breath, and laugh once in a while. I don't even mind being the butt of the joke as long as I'm not always the butt."

Tim slid his hands into his slacks pocket and nodded. "Yeah, agreed. I've been there before. It stops being funny and starts feeling more like being someone's punching bag. It's the line, like you said. Jokes are fine, but bullying isn't."

"And for it to be a joke, both sides have to be laughing at least a little." Tony smiled tiredly and scrubbed his hands over his face. "I admit to hazing you when you started. I was worried you wouldn't make it because this job can be brutal. I knew you'd have to have a stiff spine and a hell of a lot thicker skin because it doesn't get easier: you just learn to cope better."

"Clearly, you succeeded since I'm still here." Tim smiled hesitantly. "Though there were days…." he trailed off.

"Shit, McGee, we all have those days. There are ] some days I still question why I'm here working my ass off when there are people out there who seem totally normal, but who commit acts so depraved I can hardly process that it happened."

"So you pull a prank to try to step back and not feel it so intensely?" Tim had often wondered why Tony pulled shit the days he did.

"Yeah," Tony admitted. "I figure if I'm that close to the edge, then you guys might be too. Cases with kids especially, sometimes I do or say something just so the Boss can yell at me to get some of his frustration out."

Tim thought back to different times he remembered and had to admit that it had seemed Tony'd known Gibbs was there, but he'd said or done the dumbassed thing anyway.

"Well, we know where we went wrong. You and I can fix our own behavior, but somebody else higher up the food chain needs to deal with Ziva. I can't trust someone who made what felt like a real threat to break my hands or cut off my fingers while she was violating procedure. I just can't. So here's the deal. We know we have to deal with this, and it's going to be bad, no matter what happens."

Tony winced. Ziva often skirted the line with her threats, and that had to stop even if she stayed on their team. "Yeah, I know,"

"I think we need to have each other's backs – you and me – no matter what happens. And I need to know you're not just going to 'take one for the team' like you often do. It won't help, and right now could make things worse. I need to know that you understand you aren't at fault at all. If you try to take the blame, I'm going to resort to drastic measures and call in I.A., who can perform their own investigation, clear?"

"Wow, Tim. You weren't kidding about making some changes." Tony blinked rapidly like he'd had a shock. Really, he was trying to process an assertive McGee who might actually be stepping up to the plate to prove his potential. "Okay, I can agree to that. I don't know what Ziva has on Gibbs, so you need to be prepared for him to blow it off in favor of solving the case."

Tim shook his head. "No. This is too serious. I was thinking we need to bring in Vance. He needs to know what happened on one of his teams. I know Gibbs hates interference in his teams, but Vance should know. He is the director. In fact, since you weren't in the car, I'd like to call rule 38 into play: my case, my lead. I'm not trying to run over you, I just don't want them to make it about you and Ziva when it should be about the team and Ziva."

Tony's eyes went wide and he gave a silent whistle. "Alright, Probie. It's your call. I've got your six."

Tim smirked and straightened his tie before leading the way to the elevator. "I know you do. Let's do this."

NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS

Tim exited the elevator with Tony a step to the left and just behind him. It wasn't a big deal to anyone in the bullpen, but Tim knew it was Tony purposely demonstrating that he had Tim's back. It was humbling to know that Tony still trusted him.

Gibbs was at his desk, his ever-present coffee in his left hand. Seeing only the two of them, he raised a questioning brow.

"Finally. You guys should have been back half an hour ago. You were supposed to be getting voice samples, not the phone number of every eligible woman in the community!" he snapped. "And where the hell is Ziva?"

Tim straightened his shoulders. "Something serious occurred while we were in the field. Gibbs, we need to talk to you and Vance. The case might need to be handed to another team, which I know you don't want to hear, but this is serious and needs to be addressed immediately."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes at his agents, and Tim knew he would be quickly looking them over to check for injury, then looking back to read their faces.

"I run this team, McGee. I decide what's more important than a case, and I doubt you can tell me anything that's more important than finding a murderer."

"How about someone breaking your rules one and fifteen while violating procedure?" Tim replied, looking directly into Gibbs' eyes. He wasn't backing down, and Gibbs needed to see that.

Gibbs grunted, and Tim had to wonder if his mystical gut was churning For once, DiNozzo was completely serious. He even looked upset if the tension around his eyes and mouth could be believed. Maybe Gibbs assumed it was a headache, but probably not.

"If this is a prank…."

"No, Boss."

"Not a prank, Boss."

Both agents responded, and then Tony went into a coughing fit.

Tim turned to Tony, "Do you have any cough drops? Tea and honey? You'd better get something so Ducky doesn't kill me when he checks on you later."

"DiNozzo sick?" Gibbs asked, eyeing Tim like he'd done something to cause it.

"No," Tony coughed out, but Tim contradicted him.

"Maybe, Boss. Ducky thought he might have encountered something he was allergic to while he was walking around the neighborhood. I did notice that all the lawns had recently been mowed. That probably stirred up whatever molds, pollens, and chemicals were on the grass. We're concerned because if this goes into his lungs and he gets an infection…." Tim trailed off.

"I'll be fine," Tony insisted with a glare at Tim to convey that their understanding did not mean he couldn't take care of himself. He'd retrieved his cough drops, and he had a package of tea. Some hot water, and he'd be all set.

"Damned right you will." Gibbs commanded, "We don't have time for this crap. You sure you want to involve Vance, McGee? If this isn't as serious as you seem to think, I'll have your ass back in cyber before you can say elf lord."

"Yes, Gibbs. It's him or I.A." McGee set his jaw and turned to the stairs to the mezzanine and Vance's office. "Let's ask Cynthia if he's in." He glanced back and saw Tony right behind him and Gibbs following, though the Lead Agent had a furious frown.

"Good afternoon, Cynthia. Is Director Vance available?" Tim asked politely.

Gibbs just snorted and shoved past them, opening the door and storming into Vance's office before Cynthia had time to do more than squawk in protest.

"Got a situation, Leon," he announced.

Tim noted that Vance had been dialing the phone and wanted to wince but refused to allow it.

"How nice of you to drop in, Gibbs, but I'm currently in the middle of something. Can it wait?" Vance asked dryly.

Tim figured Vance knew that with Gibbs and his team, it never could wait.

Gibbs helped himself to the coffee pot to refill his current cup and took a seat at the conference table.

"Not my show, Leon, but McGee seemed to think it was worth interrupting and delaying our murder case."

Apparently he thought Tim was trying to play with the big boys, and Gibbs wasn't going to start him off with a slow pitch.

Vance's eyebrows shot up as his focus switched to the other two members of team Gibbs in the room.

Tim watched him observe Tony's silence, and he tried to project a look of serious determination.

"Very well," Vance said rising from his desk chair. "Shut the door and have a seat, gentlemen. Let's hear it McGee."

Once they were all seated at the table, Tim began.

"Director, Agent DiNozzo and I are in the undesirable position of needing to file an official grievance against Agent Ziva David," he began.

"And you couldn't find the proper forms," Vance taunted, "so we're in my office, wasting my time and delaying the search for a murderer?"

"No, sir!" McGee retorted. "We're here because the breech of protocol was egregious and potentially could have cost an agent's life. We're also here because she made a serious threat of violence against another NCIS agent."

Tim could see he at least had their attention now, but he'd need to be quick and precise. Vance and Gibbs were both bastards in their own ways.

"I see, and where is Agent David now?"

"Probably in the surveillance car where I left her."

"Get her back here, Gibbs." Vance rose and walked to a cabinet where he retrieved an audio recorder, then returned to his seat.

He started the recording, stating clearly, "Interview of Agent Timothy McGee. Those present are Special Agent in Charge Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Senior Field Agent Anthony DiNozzo, and myself, NCIS Director Leon Vance.

He stared at McGee. "Alright, McGee. Let's hear it."

With a quick glance at Tony for courage, Tim launched into retelling the events from earlier that day. Tony actually got up and brought them both cups of water part way through. When he finally finished, Gibbs and Vance grilled him until he felt like one of the suspects they interrogated. They had to stop and wait several times when Tony would go into a coughing fit, but those that never lasted very long, and then they started on him again.

Hoping they were close to an end, McGee looked at the others in the room. Gibbs must have finished off all the coffee because his cup was on the table instead of in his hand. Other than that, Tim couldn't read his face at all. Vance had gone through several toothpicks already, so he knew the man was not happy, but he wasn't sure if it was with him or with Ziva. Tony just looked like whatever was making him ill was winning, and Tim was wondering if they should even bother going to Ducky or just head straight to Brad.

"You sure she was serious, McGee?" Gibbs questioned yet again, his face showing nothing of his emotions.

Tim swallowed. "At the time, I believed her to be very serious. I think her exact words were, 'See how easy it is to write your novels with broken fingers… or none at all.' Looking back, I cannot be one-hundred percent certain, but I do know she was furious with me. I had actually reached toward the radio to turn it off, but I caught the way she was looking at me. It was smug, like everything she had said and done had been calculated in order to get me to be the one to turn off the radio and violate protocol. I pulled back and left the radio on, the volume exactly where it had been – up loud enough we could both hear Senior Field Agent DiNozzo as he spoke to the residents and obtained the voice samples.

"Did her threat take place before or after that?" Vance asked as if he needed to clarify it.

"After, sir. I told her I wouldn't turn it off. I stated again that we were Tony's – Senior Field Agent DiNozzo's backup. I remember saying that our entire reason for being there, at Royal Woods, was to watch Tony's back. That just seemed to make her escalate, so I suggested she take a break and walk a little, clear her head. I said as long as one of us stayed with the car and the other was reachable by cell, it would be fine.

"Again, that just made it worse, and she made another kind of snarling noise and turned it off herself. It was at that point she said if I touched it – turned it back on – she would break my hands 'if I was lucky.' Then she got her book back off the dash and opened it, making sure I could see her bookmark was actually one of her throwing knives. That's when she made the statement about seeing whether I could write with broken or missing fingers."

"Was there any way she could have been joking?" Vance seemed resigned.

Tim took another drink of water and leaned forward, closer to the recorder. He was getting tired of them trying to make excuses or catch him in a lie or whatever the hell they were doing. When did it become acceptable for one agent to threaten another, anyway? Kate never would have put up with that. She'd have been filing grievances from the first time Ziva threatened to kill her with a paperclip.

"Sir, Ziva frequently makes jokes about using violent measures to get someone to do something. I have to admit, to my shame, that there have been other times she's threatened me in order to manipulate me. Those times I was uncertain if she was joking or serious, but she intimidated me enough that I went along. This time was different.

Ziva – Agent David – she was absolutely livid. I firmly believe that if I had tried to turn the radio back on, she would have assaulted me. I don't know if she actually would have cut off any of my fingers, or if she would have 'just' broken my hand or arm. I do not believe she was joking about using violence against me to get her way.

"Whatever her actions would have been, I was sufficiently concerned for SFA DiNozzo's and my own safety that I arranged a way to get back to NCIS without confronting her. Do I fear Ziva now? Yes. I'll admit I do. She has taken her threats too far, and I cannot trust her and am not willing to work with her.

"More than her threats, her blatant disregard of protocol scares me. If she would knowingly, purposely break protocol and leave our Senior Field Agent without backup when we were looking for the perpetrator of a double homicide, I cannot trust that she wouldn't do the same to me in a similar situation. We are in situations that could turn deadly on an almost daily basis. I can't go into a situation like that without being able to trust the person watching my six."

Vance sighed and replaced his most recent snapped toothpick. "Any further questions, Agent Gibbs?"

"No," Gibbs replied shortly.

"I have no further questions at this time. End recording of interview with Agent Timothy McGee."

Vance leaned back in his chair. "Do you have anything to say, Agent DiNozzo? This is the quietest I've ever seen you."

Tony shook his head and rasped out, "Just that I agree with McGee. I won't work with her any longer. I can't. I have to be able to trust the person on my six, like McGee said." He scrubbed his hands over his face. "We – Gibbs, McGee, and me – all risked our lives to get her out of Somalia. I feel betrayed that she purposely ignored procedure and Gibbs' orders and would have left me without backup if Tim hadn't stepped up."

Vance sighed and met Gibbs' eyes. "You going to cut her from your team, Gibbs?"

"She broke protocol, leaving one teammate without backup. She threatened another." Gibbs said flatly. "She's off my team, and I don't want to see her again. DiNozzo and McGee are both right. The job is hard enough. You and I both know that if we can't trust the people on our six, the job becomes impossible."

"I know." Vance agreed. He took the audio recorder from the table and went back to his desk, checking something on his computer. "Your team is on paid leave as of now – except David, of course. She will be suspended pending investigation. Balboa's team and Falcourt's are in rotation. Turn your current case over to one of them and wrangle David into an interrogation room. I.A.'s going to want audio and video when they interview her."

Gibbs nodded once, and said, "I'll speak with Balboa and get him to take the case. I'll let Abby know to send any results to him if she gets a voice match." He clenched his jaw several times and crushed his empty coffee cup. "Your office have video, Leon? I.A. is going to want video of this interview even though they'll probably re-interview everyone."

"Wait, I.A.?" Tim blurted and then wanted to kick himself. Sometimes he thought he needed a muzzle as much as Tony did.

Vance stared at him like he'd said something completely idiotic, and Gibbs glared.

"Yes, I.A., McGee," Gibbs snapped. "Who did you think would investigate a grievance this serious? It's not like you're accusing her of stealing DiNozzo's Mighty Mouse stapler, here."

"We were just hoping to avoid that," Tony said, his voice cracking again before he started coughing.

"I had said something about going to I.A. when I reported what happened to Tony, since he is the SFA and it involved him, but he and I had both hoped that we could keep it as quiet as possible. We know NCIS doesn't need any more disruption than we can help," Tim added.

"I'll have one of the techs from cyber pull my office video. Then I'll make the call to I.A. This is going to be a cluster, Gibbs. Ziva David may be a citizen now, but she's still Eli David's daughter."

"I'm aware, Director. Only thing to do now is keep the ship upright and hang on."

Vance snorted, like he was amused almost against his will.

Gibbs instructed his agents, "McGee, DiNozzo, go home. Keep your phones on and expect a call to come in to speak to I.A."

Tony and Tim stood and cleared away their water cups and headed for the door.

"A moment, gentlemen." Vance stood, making eye contact with both of them. "It goes without saying, but I'm going to say it anyway: speak to absolutely no one about this. I will contact Ducky personally to ensure he complies as well. It is unfortunate that he was involved, but I understand why he was. Do not contact anyone else from NCIS."

Tony and Tim exchanged glances.

"Ducky wanted Tony to report so he could check on his reaction to whatever was in Royal Woods. Will you let him know I'll take Tony to see Brad at Bethesda instead?"

"What? No," Tony squawked.

"Go with him, DiNozzo. You've been coughing more often just in the time we've been in here, so get your ass to the doctor." Gibbs ordered. He looked at Tim and narrowed his eyes. "One more question, McGee. Why'd you call Ducky instead of me. I'm sure I could have done 'outraged parent' just as well as he could."

'Oh, shit.' Tim thought. 'Well, suck it up, agent. You've got a spine, so use it!'

"Gibbs, I thought Ducky was a more appropriate age for someone to believe he was Tony's father-in-law."

Gibbs moved toward him and got in his face.

"A half-truth at best, agent. What's the real reason?"

Tim swallowed. He would have so much more sympathy for the people Gibbs faced in the interrogation rooms… well, the innocent ones at least.

"Frankly, Boss, you've got a habit of hanging up when you don't want to hear something. I know you're close to Ziva, and I couldn't be certain you wouldn't blow me off or tell me you didn't want to hear it and to just do my job Even in here, I could tell you didn't believe me at first about Ziva. Well, I didn't have the time to take to convince you when we were in the field…. If you had even stayed on the line long enough to listen, that is. I knew Ducky would do what I asked him to and expect to get all the 'whys' afterward."

Gibbs flinched and backed off. Yeah, the second 'b' was for bastard, but all Tim had said boiled down to not trusting him to have their backs. Maybe something had gotten through if Gibbs was finally realizing that Tim would count on a medical examiner for backup before he called his Boss.

Vance clearly thought the same thing, with the way he was glaring at Gibbs.

"You need to get your house in order, Gibbs," he said firmly.

"Yeah, I'll take care of it, Leon." Gibbs retorted. He looked back at Tim and Tony. "I understand what you're really saying – you didn't trust me to have your back. I can't say how I would have reacted had you called me, but we're going to be addressing this and more after this thing with Ziva is over."

"Yes, Boss," Tim and Tony answered simultaneously at that announcement, and then again after Gibbs ordered them, "Go home."

Tim almost stopped half way down the stairs when he noticed Ziva back at her desk, looking fit to be tied. Great. How they were going to get their stuff from their desks when Ziva was right there and would be full of questions and hopping mad that they'd left her at Royal Woods. To his surprise, Gibbs actually followed them down to the bullpen and ordered Ziva to follow him, turning around and walking away, expecting her to follow. The look she shot him and Tony made the hair stand up on the back of his neck.

"Not good," Tony whispered before launching into another coughing and hacking fit.

"Understatement. Grab your stuff, and I'll get you to Bethesda," Tim said. Brad was going to kick both their asses. He quickly gathered everything from his own desk and was there to prod a pale, feverish-looking DiNozzo into the elevator.

NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS

Tim had been right about Brad's reaction to seeing Tony. Tony'd had to endure several tests, a full dose of IV antibiotics, a steroid injection, and a breathing treatment, a prescription for fourteen days worth of oral antibiotics, and another prescription to for Tony's home nebulizer before Brad would release him. Even then, he only agreed with the stipulation that someone would be with Tony for a minimum of 72 hours until they were certain the antibiotics were working.

Tony hadn't whined or complained the whole time except when the phlebotomist had to draw blood, and then then RN had to insert the IV. Tim knew Tony's hatred of needles came from the time he he'd had the plague, so Tim couldn't really blame him.

Tim's only mistake had been looking directly at Tony when they were being told Brad's final stipulation for allowing Tony to go home. Tony had looked back at Tim, his face a portrait of abject misery at the thought of staying in the hospital. Tim had caved almost immediately.

They had been on their way to Tony's place to pack a bag with enough changes of comfortable clothes and Tony's essential toiletries when Gibbs had called to warn them that Ziva's interview with I.A. had not gone well.

"…so get your clothes and crap and then both of you get your asses over here. We all need to clear the air anyway, and we might as well do it either tonight or in the morning. I bought steak." Gibbs had hung up without anything further, so Tony had explained the steak comment.

"Huge, thick stakes. Spiced. Cooked in fireplace. Delicious," he'd rasped with obvious delight.

"Got it," Tim said. He guessed he could try it. It wasn't like it would kill him. Hopefully.

Now Tim was carrying his own bags as well as Tony's bag with his nebulizer and all his medication in it as they approached Gibbs' front door. Tony seemed perfectly happy with the thought of staying with the Boss, but Tim couldn't quite wrap his head around it. He'd never been further into Gibbs' place than the living room, the kitchen, and the bathroom. The thought of staying overnight made him feel twitchy.

The door opened just as they reached the step, and Gibbs made a 'hurry up' gesture that got them both inside with the door closed (and locked!) behind them. If that weren't surprising enough, the sight of Fornell in Gibbs' living room certainly was.

Gibbs steered Tony and Tim toward the stairs. "Tony, you know where your room is. Tim, guest room's the first door on the left. I made Fornell make the beds and lay out towels, so don't blame me if your beds are short-sheeted," Gibbs announced.

Tim gave Tony a questioning look, but the other man was already at the top of the steps. Tim blinked and followed silently as Tony pushed open one door and flipped on the light. As soon as he did, Tim realized why Gibbs had said it was Tony's room.

The room was painted a light cream color that lacked imagination, but Tim figured Gibbs wasn't concerned about the décor. There was a double bed slid all the way to one wall to make room for a nightstand beside it and a large dresser across the room next to the closet, which had sliding doors like the ones Tim had grown up with. The bed was covered with a patchwork quilt that Tim vaguely recognized from when the team had been in Jackson Gibbs' home in Stillwater, and there was a thick rug covering most of the hardwood floor in the center of the room. The whole room was neat and tidy, which wasn't surprising. What did surprise Tim was that the dresser held a flat-screen TV and a DVD player as well as a stack of DVDs.

At Tony's gesture, Tim brought in Tony's bag of medicines and set it down on the nightstand, careful not to knock over the lamp. When Tony opened the dresser, Tim figured out why Tony had brought so little in the way of clothes and toiletries after making such a fuss about it when they'd thought they'd be going to Tim's place: the dresser already held jeans and sweats that Tim assumed belonged to Tony. He knew he was right when Tony opened the closet to hang some shirts and Tim saw a couple of suits and some other clothes he remembered Tony wearing before.

Tony really was like Gibbs' kid. For Tony, this was just a long weekend at his dad's house.

"Hey!"

Tim blinked and looked toward the croaking sound Tony'd made. "What?"

"Take your stuff to your room, McStares-alot. Change into a set of the sweats and t-shirts I made you bring, and we'll go down for supper," Tony managed to rasp out and pushed Tim toward the door.

"Right. Supper."

Tim made himself open the door to the room Gibbs had said was the guest room and turned on the light. The room had the same color walls and was a mirror to the one Tony was in, which made sense because the wall of one was actually the backside of the closet of the other. Other than that, it was completely generic and lacked the 'lived in' feel Tony's room had. There was a double bed in the middle of the other long wall with a nightstand on one side and a slim dresser on the other. No need for a big dresser for short-term guests. Certainly no need for any entertainment.

Tim unpacked his clothes into the empty dresser and mostly-empty closet. Other than Tim's few shirts and slacks, the closet held unlabeled storage boxes. Tim set out his personal care items on the top of the dresser, and then followed Tony's instructions and changed into sweatpants and an MIT t-shirt. He assumed Tony would know what was expected of them, after all.

A knock on the door announced Tony's presence just as Tim was trying to finger-comb his hair back into place. Tim gave up on his hair and opened the door.

Tony raised an eyebrow and jerked his head toward the stairs.

"Yeah, let's go," Tim replied to the unvoiced question and followed his colleague down to the living room where Gibbs, also dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, was indeed cooking steaks in his fireplace.

"Awe, look at your little boys, Jethro," Fornell snarked with a grin. Even he had discarded his long coat and his tie. He'd unbuttoned the first few buttons of his dress shirt and rolled the sleeves up to the elbow. "They grow up so fast, don't they?"

Gibbs snarked right back, "Make yourself useful, Tobias, and check the baked potatoes to see if they're done. The 'boys' are in charge of finding something that looks enough like a vegetable that it will keep Ducky from harping on me at my next physical."

Tony snickered and smacked Tim's arm, indicating they should head into the kitchen. Tim obediently followed and checked the refrigerator, discovering a bag of lettuce and spinach mix that seemed okay.

"This?" he asked, holding up the bag for Tony to approve. Tony nodded and happily investigated the cupboards while Tim divided the mix in bowls for the four of them, only looking up when Tony made a victorious noise – well, Tim assumed it was victorious. It was kind of hard to tell since it was mostly just a squeak.

"Artichoke hearts? I can't believe Gibbs had those. Of course, I can't exactly imagine the Boss out grocery shopping, so…." Tim admitted.

Tony snorted and finished removing the lid from the can before draining the artichoke hearts and scouting out a cutting board to slice them on.

"No, really. I mean, it's pretty obvious you stay with Gibbs sometimes, so maybe you're used to it, but I've only ever seen the Boss in work mode," Tim said. "Obviously there's more to him than work, but I admit I haven't put a whole lot of thought into it. And it's even more weird to be here and not have you talking."

Tony stopped slicing and gave Tim a speaking look.

"Believe me, I'm perfectly aware Brad told you not to talk if you could help it, but it's just weird."

Tony shrugged and distributed the sliced artichoke hearts over the four salads. He gestured to the refrigerator.

"I assume that means I'm either supposed to look for tomatoes or dressing," Tim interpreted, opening the refrigerator door. "Hey, a couple of tomatoes, though they look kind of sad. You might have to throw away parts of those. I also found Italian dressing that looks like it's okay."

Tony turned, snapped his fingers, and made a "gimmie" motion, holding out a hand for the wrinkled tomatoes, then making a face at their condition.

"Gibbs probably cooks as much as he absolutely has to," Tim thought aloud. "I've gotten worse about it lately too. It seems like we've had insane case after completely fubar case for a long time."

Tony met his eyes and nodded, conveying his agreement.

Tim watched him finish salvaging what he could of the tomatoes and add them to the salads before washing his hands and taking two bowls and motioning with his head toward the living room. Tim grabbed the other two and the dressing and followed.

They barely avoided running into Fornell, who had been sent in search of plates and forks. Tony handed off his salad bowls and went back for the plates and forks, leaving Tim following Fornell to the living room this time.

Each plate got a baked potato still in its aluminum foil jacket and a huge hunk of steak that made Tim's mouth water. He already thought he understood why Tony was so excited about the steaks, and he hadn't even tasted it yet.

"Table," Gibbs ordered, and they all moved to the small dining table, Tony the only one brave enough to roll his eyes at his boss' terse instructions.

The elephant in the room was avoided all through supper, though Gibbs interrogated Tim about Tony's visit to Dr. Pitt. Tim didn't bother sugarcoating it, despite getting kicked by Tony when the man thought he was giving unnecessary detail.

Tim had grouched at him, "If you think I'm not going to tell him everything Brad said when it's something as serious as your health, we clearly need to go back and have your head examined."

Tony had glared, yet somehow looked pleased too. Gibbs had simply looked at his SFA until Tony sighed and pouted at what was left of his baked potato. Fornell kept his mouth shut, though Tim could tell the other man desperately wanted to add his own two cents.

It was over all too soon, and the dishes were washed and put away. They moved back to the living room with a cold beer in hand – except for Tony who was forbidden due to his antibiotics. He had a bottle of water and looked mildly annoyed about it.

With a long sigh, Fornell finally said, "So Gibbs told you that Ziva's questioning by I.A. didn't go well." At Tim and Tony's nods, he continued, "Right. Well it eventually came out that she still blames Tony for killing Rivkin, which lead to her blaming him for all that lead up to her capture and torture at Saleem Ulman's hands."

"What?" Tim shouted. "How can she still hold a grudge for that? He was the one who tried to kill Tony. Tony only defended himself!"

Tony himself looked shattered.

Fornell held up a hand. "I know, McGee, and if the FBI had been aware of that clusterfuck when it happened, some of the fallout might have been prevented. We certainly wouldn't have permitted a U.S. citizen and federal agent – especially one who'd been cleared of wrong-doing – to be hauled around the world and questioned by a foreign government." Fornell was disgusted and sent a speaking look to Gibbs.

"David admitted that she also assaulted you when you were over there, DiNozzo. You sure as hell should have reported that, but I can understand why you didn't." Gibbs sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. "Vance and I both screwed you over, Tony. I see that now. I saw it then, but I didn't know how to prevent it – "

"And you were too damned stubborn to come to me and admit that you needed help," Fornell interrupted.

Gibbs glared at the man but didn't deny it.

Tony just dropped his eyes to where he was pealing the label from his water bottle.

"So what about us risking our lives and going to Somalia for Ziva?" Tim asked, outraged. "Doesn't that register in her head somewhere?"

Fornell took a drink of his beer, licking his lips before answering reluctantly, "It does, but since she blames DiNozzo for her being there, she felt it was what he owed to her. I think that in her mind, her hate for Saleem Ulman and for DiNozzo became synonymous somewhere along the line."

Tony tried to speak, coughed, and tried again, "And Ulman is dead, so that just leaves me for her to focus her hate on."

"Yeah," Gibbs admitted. "She said if I hadn't chosen you, that she never would have been in a place to be captured by him."

"Wait, what?" Tim asked, confused. "When did you have to make a choice between Tony and Ziva?" And why did he still look like he felt guilty about it?

Gibbs and Tony exchanged a glance, and Tony looked even more unhappy.

"At the airfield as we were leaving Israel. She said she couldn't work with him and told me I had to choose. I chose DiNozzo."

Tim didn't even know what to say to that.

Apparently Fornell did. "She'd worked with you for years at that point and didn't know that you hate to be backed into a corner? Of course you chose DiNozzo. Even if he weren't the better agent, he'd never push you into choosing in the first place."

Tony's head snapped up, and he stared at Fornell in surprise. The FBI agent noticed and huffed.

"What, you're surprised I said you're the better agent? Don't be stupid, DiNutso. Of course you are. All those times I've offered you jobs weren't just to piss off Gibbs." He smirked then. "Though that was a nice bonus, I admit."

"Don't make me head-slap you, Tobias," Gibbs threatened the FBI man at the other end of the sofa, and Tony looked shyly pleased.

Fornell simply scowled at Gibbs and returned to the Ziva situation.

"Frankly, I have no idea how she passed the psych evals. The only thing I can think is that she's been treating this as a deep-cover mission."

That made a little more sense. "Well, we are coming up on three years. Isn't that the maximum amount of time agencies send agents in for long-term UC missions? I know there's something about not being able to maintain any longer than that," Tim offered.

Tony nodded, and the other two men made affirming sounds.

"So is Ziva mentally unstable?" Tim wondered.

"Dunno, McGee. She'd agreed to be evaluated at Bethesda, but she slipped her agent escort," Gibbs said grimly.

"And so we reach the real reason we're all having a sleepover, and it's not to paint each other's nails and braid each other's hair," Fornell said, then glared when Tony snorted with a pointed look to the older man's balding head.

"You're concerned she's going to come after one of us now that it's out in the open," Tim surmised, and received a nod of approval from Gibbs.

"Yes," Fornell stated bluntly. "Gibbs had the idea that it would be easier to protect one place rather than three, and he refused to be moved to a safe house, so here we are."

Gibbs added, "Especially with Tony sick, none of us should be on our own. We all know what Ziva was, and if she's mentally unstable…" he winced and looked away toward the fireplace, taking a deep drink of his beer.

"We have a 24/7 protection detail outside, and there will be one more agent with me inside tonight."

"Not Slacks!" Tony objected.

"Not Sacks," Fornell agreed with a smirk. "The idea is to protect you, DiNutso, not arrest you. He is on the detail out looking for David, though I'm sure she's hidden in one of any number of bolt-holes the Mossad have. She made a credible threat on both your lives while she was being questioned, so she has to know the FBI is looking for her."

Tony and Tim looked at each other. This was so much worse than anything either of them had imagined earlier that day.

Gibbs was watching them and correctly interpreted their wordless exchange. "No point panicking yet."

"Boss, what about Abby and Ducky? Even Palmer? Are they in danger too?" Tim asked. He really hoped no one had told Ziva Ducky's part earlier that day.

"We don't believe so," Fornell answered for Gibbs, earning himself a glare. He just glared back.

"Vance and I informed all three of the situation, and they, and Vance and his family, have accepted temporary protective details at their homes."

Fornell mumbled, "No more sense than you all," and got a scowl from Gibbs and Tony.

"Which is part of why I refused protective custody."

It didn't make sense to Tim, but Tony was nodding.

He whispered, "Make us the targets to lure her out. Keep them out of the picture."

"Oh, that makes sense," Tim said. "If we're her only possible target, it should be easier to apprehend her."

"Hopefully, Tim, but doubt that she's going to come quietly. You both need to get your minds around that," Gibbs warned them, looking as upset as Tim had seen him at the thought himself.

"Gibbs is right." Fornell had lost any humor and was deadly serious. "We hope to end this with David in custody and without any injury, but we have to acknowledge her past as a Mossad operative and her current mindset. I can't guarantee what will happen other than to say if it comes down to it, my people are going to choose to preserve their and your lives."

When Tim looked over at him, Tony was back to looking miserable as well as looking more ill. He checked his watch.

"Not to interrupt, but it's time for Tony's breathing treatment," he announced.

Tony threw the lid from his empty water bottle at him and scowled. Tim actually thought that was better than seeing the other man so dejected. He just knew Tony was blaming himself for this.

Tony just sat there with a mulish expression until Gibbs stared him down. Then he only went up to his room after he'd glared at Tim and kicked his shin on his way past.

NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS

Despite the general anxiety of waiting for news of their former teammate, the rest of the night and most of the next three days passed without incident. Tony was much improved and had actually talked one of Fornell's agents into buying groceries when she was off-shift so that he could make chicken alla vodka farfalle. Tony made sure the other Italian man would be on duty and could enjoy the meal too, just so his agent wouldn't catch any heat from him.

The fourth night of their captivity, as Tim had begun thinking of it, they'd finished Tony's meal and had been back in the living room talking quietly. Gibbs couldn't work on his boat due to Tony's lungs already being stressed from the Royal Oaks episode, so he was sitting with them too as they watched an old western.

Tim knew Tony had realized it was past time for his nebulizer treatment, so Tim made a point of looking at his watch, staring at Tony until he finally glared back, and then clearing his throat loudly for effect.

Tony again threw his water bottle cap at McGee as he walked past and headed up the stairs.

"Cute, McGee. I can't figure out if you're auditioning for the role of wife or mother though," Fornell smirked.

Gibbs shot a look at his frenemy but chose to ask the question that had been driving him nuts since his two agents had returned from the field days before.

"So I've gotta ask. What the hell went on in Royal Oaks that you haven't told us yet, McGee? Why the sudden change of heart about Tony?"

Tim flushed and cleared his throat, but not for effect this time. He'd figured Gibbs would ask eventually.

"Well, frankly, Boss, I got my head out of my ass."

At Fornell's snort and Gibbs' raised eyebrow, he continued, "The thing with Ziva that day might have been the point of decision, but I've been thinking about the team and about my behavior for a while, especially after a conversation with my sister. I said some things that she called me on, and it made me realize that I'd become someone I didn't recognize, someone I didn't want to be."

"Really." Gibbs sounded skeptical.

Tim would really rather not be doing this in front of Fornell, but he figured Gibbs had asked while Tony was out of the room for a reason. Tim would just have to suck it up.

"Yes. It wasn't until my alarm went off one morning and I realized that I was thinking fondly about being in cyber that I realized that things were so bad. Talking to Sarah a few weeks later made me realize it wasn't the team – or it wasn't only the team that was the problem. I still don't know exactly when it happened, but I realized I'd become a jerk somewhere along the line. The thing with Ziva that day was a defining moment – I finally had to choose whether I was going to go along with Ziva and continue to be an asshole who was alienating Tony, or if I was going to grow a pair and be an agent."

Gibbs stared at him a long moment, and he forced himself to continue to meet the intense blue gaze.

"And that's what has you mother-henning DiNozzo until he gives in and strangles you?"

Tim frowned. "I don't think being worried about Tony means I'm being a 'mother hen,' but no, that didn't fix everything with Tony. He and I had a frank discussion and cleared the air quite a bit before we came up to the bullpen that day." He shrugged one shoulder. "If he wants to talk to you about that conversation, it's his choice."

"Huh." Fornell was watching him a little like a cat watches a bug crawl across the floor – like he wasn't quite sure if he wanted to watch, or if he wanted to bat the bug into the wall and see what happened.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "And if I told you that it wasn't his call. You're both my agents, so report." The tone more than the words told Tim that that was exactly what Gibbs was telling him to do.

Tim squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. "Then I'd tell you, with all due respect, Gibbs, that you haven't been interested at any point over the last few years when Ziva and I were treating Tony like shit, so I don't see why you'd think it was any of your concern now."

Gibbs brows went up, and Fornell's jaw dropped.

"Did you just tell Gibbs to mind his own business?" Fornell asked incredulously before bursting out laughing. "Damnit, kid! Maybe there's more to you than I thought there was."

Tim pressed his lips together in irritation, but ignored the FBI agent in favor of watching Gibbs. He wasn't an expert Gibbs-interpreter like Tony was, but it looked like the man couldn't decide whether he was pissed off, amused, or possibly a tiny bit impressed.

The sound of Tony's feet tromping down the stairs before the man himself showed up and threw himself into his chair interrupted their stair down. He immediately sensed the change in atmosphere and gave them all confused looks.

"What's funny?" he finally asked Fornell.

Fornell was still chuckling. "Your mother hen told Gibbs to butt out."

Tim huffed, "It wasn't like that. I just said that if you wanted to discuss the conversation, it was up to you."

"Oh, it was a little like that," Gibbs said, finally allowing his lips to turn up just slightly.

Tony still looked puzzled, so Tim gave in and explained, "Gibbs basically ordered me to tell him what we'd talked about, so I pointed out that he hadn't cared in years, so why did he think it was his problem now."

Tony's voice was coming back gradually. The sound he made at Tim's explanation should have been a groan. As it was, it was more like a balloon was being deflated through a single pinhole as he covered his face with one hand.

"Probie…" he whined.

"What?" Tim snapped. "Gibbs is the Lead Agent. Some of the problems we've had on the team with disrespect and insubordination could have been prevented if he'd supported your position as SFA instead of pitting us against each other."

Only at that point did Tim realize he'd said that while Gibbs was in the room. Tony made the deflating balloon sound again and leaned over, resting his head on his knees and covering it with his arms like he was preparing for an explosion.

"Is that really what you think?" Gibbs asked dangerously.

Tim swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry, but he refused to back down. "Yes, Boss, it is."

Fornell started whistling Tapps.

Tim was relieved when Gibbs' irritated gaze switched to the other agent, who immediately stopped whistling and held up both hands in a gesture of surrender.

That laser gaze was suddenly back on Tim.

"So this implosion of our team is my fault, is that it?"

Tim shook his head. "Of course not. Ziva becoming mentally unstable isn't anyone's fault unless we're going to blame her seriously warped father or the mad man who tortured her." Tim took a deep breath and continued, "However, maybe she would have been forced to show her hand earlier if our team were more cohesive and less competitive. The blame for that does start with you, but it doesn't end there. It's also Tony's and my and Ziva's faults."

"I'm going to go check with my people," Fornell abruptly announced and was out the door faster than Tim had known the man could move. Tim didn't blame him.

Tony made a strangled noise and got their attention. "Timmy." He looked at Tim pleadingly.

"Tony, can you seriously say the three of us as we are would be ready to train and mentor a probie? How will we fix things if we all go into it making the same mistakes?" Tim asked. "I might have respected you for years, but I treated you like shit without ever being called on it – not Kate or Ziva, not Gibbs or Vance. There was a reason it was so easy for Ziva to come in and isolate you. If we can't be honest with each other, what's to prevent someone else from coming in and doing the same thing to you or to me?"

Tony frowned and looked to Gibbs who didn't seem any less pissed off than he had when Fornell ran away.

Tim took his life in his hands and said, "In Vance's office that day, you said that we would discuss why I was afraid you wouldn't have had my six. Are you willing to have that discussion honestly and without threatening to cut either one of us from the team?"

Looking like he'd rather have a root canal, Gibbs finally nodded. "You've been thinking about it, so lay it out for us, McGee. What went wrong?"

Tim started slowly, "I'll start from the top down. Frankly, I think a lot of the dysfunction in the D.C. office is because of the directors we've had. I know when I first started I wondered how the director could handle all the meetings, paperwork, and MTAC missions all the time, yet be expected to know in detail what each team was working on and if there were any problems. Add to that the directors who've had their own agendas – and I'm not so blind that I don't see Vance has an agenda – and the entire office is bound to be dysfunctional."

"I agree," Tony said, "but we can't do anything about that."

Tim nodded and wished he had his laptop if only to hide behind. A frank discussion without even the cover of a table between him and Gibbs' cold stare wasn't easy.

"I know. With a lack of personal leadership from the director's seat, the next place other people look is our time. We are the MCRT – the flagship team, so to speak. That means that other leads are looking at Gibbs and other SFAs are looking at you to figure out how they should lead their teams. Which is why I think it's essential that the chain of command be more clear within our team."

Gibbs bristled. "How others lead their team isn't my responsibility, McGee. The job is hard enough without that kind of pressure."

"And if the way we've always done it were still working, then I'd agree with you."

Tony winced, and Gibbs practically snarled this time. "We still have the highest closure rate, so I think we're doing damn well."

Tim paused. He was going to have to get Gibbs to see this from another direction. He glanced quickly at Tony, hoping the other man would forgive him.

"Boss, did you know that the day Ziva went off the rails Tony was actually less surprised that she'd wanted to leave him without backup than he was that I hadn't gone along with her?"

"Oh fuck," Tony moaned as Gibbs reared back as if he'd been slapped.

"What are you talking about?" he snapped, looking from Tim to Tony. "DiNozzo? That true?"

Unable to lie to Gibbs, Tony clenched his jaw and nodded unhappily.

Tim brought Gibbs' attention back to himself. "Boss? The way we've been doing things hasn't worked. Not for a long time if one of our own was expecting to get shot in the ass – and hopefully only metaphorically – because no one was covering his six."

Gibbs leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees.

"Tony, why didn't you come to me?" he started, then continued before Tony could answer. "No. Don't bother. The only reason you wouldn't have come to me is if you hadn't trusted me to back you." Gibbs looked shocked by the realization. He shook his head. "And the only reason you wouldn't have trusted me to back you is if there had been enough times where I didn't have your back."

"Boss, no. I should have said something, but it was my own fault. I should have grown up and stopped playing the idiot jock, frat-boy player so that the rest of the team would have an SFA they could respect."

"And I should have treated you with the respect your position demanded, no matter what I thought about your jokes, Tony. None of us are blameless," Tim said firmly. "Nor do I think the answer is a complete personality transplant."

"So what are you suggesting, Tim?"

Gibbs' question lacked the hostility of those earlier.

"I think we need to figure out among the three of us how we want our team to work, first of all. We've been breaking your rule all along, Gibbs, by assuming everything was okay and assuming if there were a problem, we'd immediately know." Tim thought about it quickly and decided to throw everything on the table. "Next, I think we need to figure out how to deal with people we work closely with but who are not an immediate part of the team."

"You're talking about Abby, Ducky, and Jimmy." Tony's eyes were guarded, which made Tim feel guilty.

"Yeah, and Vance to some extent. He's the director, so we can't exactly tell him to sit down and shut up, but I think it's important we figure out how we are going to handle him since I'm guessing he's going to want to be more – uh – hands-on with our team after this."

"Just what we need." Gibbs scrubbed his face with his hands. When he'd stopped, Tim thought anyone he met would be able to tell he was wishing for his boat and his bourbon, and not necessarily in that order.

"He's going to require a careful touch," Tony said plainly, "because we're going to have to give him enough to make him happy without letting him think he can micromanage our team or stick us with somebody totally wrong for the team."

"Like Jenny did, you mean?" Gibbs snorted. "Or maybe Ziva wasn't as bad at first."

Tony looked away, "Oh, she was. She couldn't stand me from the start. She just got better at hiding it, and I felt responsible for her because she was part of my team."

Gibbs watched Tony a little bit, and Tim had no clue what the older man was thinking now.

"Even if I couldn't have stopped her from being on our team, I should have refused until she'd been through FLETC training. Hell, I should have required she finish FLETC when she wanted to become a full agent after we got her back." Gibbs sounded disgusted.

"No one can say how it would have worked out, Boss," Tony said softy. "All I know is that the whole team was reeling from Kate's death. We were grieving, and Jenny had no right to force someone else on the team so soon. Or, well, she had the right, but she should have held off just for decency's sake. Part of me wondered after Israel if it wasn't just a little too convenient that Ziva couldn't bring herself to take out Ari until after he'd shot Kate and there was a spot open on the team." Tony shrugged but unconsciously rubbed his hand up and down the arm Rivkin had broken. "It's probably just paranoia and too many times watching Conspiracy Theory. Too much Mel Gibson would make anyone nuts after a while."

Tim felt like the floor had dropped out from beneath him. Surely Ziva wouldn't have…. No. That was just too much. He found him shaking his head, trying to get rid of the thought. He didn't think he could take it if Tony's thought was more than paranoia, so he decided not to think about it until he had more time to brace himself. For now, he needed to get the other two roped back in from their self-flagellation journeys.

"Guys, we can sit and pick apart everything we think we did wrong, but it won't necessarily help us. If we're going to make ourselves horribly depressed, it might as well be because we're trying to solve something."

Seeing he had the attention of the other two back again, he tried to approach the next minefield.

"Jimmy won't be a problem at all, I don't think. He has foot-in-mouth disease at the worst moments, but that's nothing to do with us."

Gibbs rolled his eyes, and Tony stood with a huffed laugh. "True. Going to the kitchen. You guys want water? Beer?"

"Beer," Gibbs said immediately. Tim honestly wanted one too, but he felt bad for Tony who was still not allowed.

"Water," he put in his own order and added, "I don't want to gain back everything I've lost, and I'm afraid sitting around like I have been has not been good for me. I don't need the extra calories."

"You look fine, McScarecrow," Tony reassured, handing over the cold bottle. "We'll spar when we get back to work. Getting your ass kicked takes a lot of energy."

"Gee, thanks for the offer," Tim replied sarcastically, only to get back a smirk.

"Boys," Gibbs warned, "don't make me send you both to your corners."

Tim exchanged an amused look with Tony that had their boss rolling his eyes at them.

"Alright, Tim. You're not worried about Jimmy, which means you are worried about either Ducky or Abby, and I'm guessing it's not Ducky." Tony too another drink of cold water. "I can pretty much guess, but go ahead a say it."

Gibbs was looking perplexed again. "Abby. What's your beef with Abs, McGee?"

And there was the antagonism again.

Tim sighed, catching Tony's look of sympathy out of the corner of his eye.

"Gibbs, you know Tony and I both care about Abby. Neither one of us want to see her hurt, but over the years, she's gone from being the quirky-yet-efficient lab tech to a master emotional-manipulator. I can't speak for Tony, but to put it bluntly, I think it's time for Abby to either grow up or get smacked down."

Tony jumped in before Gibbs could explode, which Tim appreciated immensely.

"You probably don't see it as much because you always give in whenever Abby asks or even indicates she wants something. It doesn't work that way for the rest of us because we can't always give in."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Did you know that the entire time you were gone on your Mexican Siesta, she made me wear a 'trainee' tag whenever I came into her lab for results, and she wouldn't give them to me unless I brought her a CaffPow?"

"That was years ago, DiNozzo. You need to get over that," Gibbs barked.

"It happened to me years ago, but she still does it to the other Leads. Not the 'trainee' tag, but she holds their lab results hostage for CaffPow, snacks, or whatever." Tony's expression twisted in frustration. "As unprofessional as that is, if that were the only thing, I'm sure we'd all live, but she does other crap like that all the time. It's gotten so bad some of the other SFAs have actually told me they refuse to go into her lab."

Gibbs still didn't look like he saw a problem, which was what Tim had been afraid of.

"Like Tony said, you might not see it, but it's only because you never tell her no. You all thought it was funny when she manipulated me into taking home the dog that literally took a bite out of me, but it really wasn't."

Gibbs' expression was frigid. "You didn't seem to have a problem with her when you were dating her."

"Over eight years ago, Gibbs? I've certainly grown and changed since then. If she hasn't grown up from who she was, that's not my problem," Tim snapped in aggravation. If this was Gibb's idea of an open conversation, there wasn't much hope. "What is it with you and women? It's like you literally cannot see them as anything but rainbows and butterflies unless you, again quite literally, have your life threatened by them!"

"You watch your mouth!" Gibbs yelled back, and Tony jumped to his feet, stepping between them and holding out his hands like a boxing referee.

"Whoah, people! Back to your corners. Let's not take shots at each other since the goal is still to work together after this, alright?"

Tim slid back into his chair from where he'd been getting ready to get in Gibbs' face, and he watched Gibbs do the same on the sofa.

"Right. Let's table discussing Abby for another time and – "

"Wait, one more thing. It's just an idea." Tim said, forcing himself to be more calm. Gibbs had a mulish look on his face, so he could only guess how his boss was going to take it. "Gibbs, I challenge you to deny Abby something she actually wants from you. I don't care what it is, and it doesn't really matter. Maybe stop bringing her CaffPows every time you visit the lab or something. Again, it doesn't really matter. Do that and see how she reacts and what she does if you don't give in or promise to make it up to her later. That's all I ask."

Tony was nodding. "It's a good idea, Tim. Abby can be absolutely wonderful and even sweet, so the only way to see her manipulative side is to do something like what you suggested. Gibbs, at the very least you'll see how she reacts to you, which will be more mild than how she reacts to others who don't have a father-figure role in her life."

"Fine," Gibbs grunted. "Move on."

Tim and Tony exchanged another speaking look.

"Fine," Tim agreed. "You're right in that I don't foresee us having a problem with Ducky. I honestly think he will be distressed by our current situation but will be equally happy for us when we are back up and running."

"You're not going to tell me he's holding his results hostage for tea?" Gibbs asked nastily.

Tim choked back the response that sprang automatically to his lips and simply shook his head. "No."

"Uh, I think this would be a good point to stop for tonight." Tony tried to smile. "I think Fornell is still hiding, and we should let him back in and we all take a breather."

"Agreed. I'm heading to bed. Goodnight, Tony, Gibbs." Tim walked away and purposely closed his door on whatever Gibbs was saying to Tony. The times like these when Gibbs absolutely refused to hear anything that went against what he'd already decided that made Tim wonder if it was worth keeping the current MCRT intact. It wouldn't be as prestigious, but surely there'd be less stress being an agent on another team.

He sighed and made his way to the bathroom to brush his teeth before he went back to the guest room, catching Fornell on his way back downstairs after doing another sweep. He and the agent exchanged nods, and Tim gladly crawled into bed. He checked to make sure his Sig was loaded and ready and within easy reach beneath the other pillow before allowing himself to shut down his mind and sleep.

NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS

Leroy Jethro Gibbs stood leaning against his basement workbench with a jar of bourbon in his hand. It had been two days since he'd nearly lost his temper with McGee, and both McGee and Tony were still avoiding him as much as was possible when they were all confined to the same house. They'd eaten sandwiches for the last few days because no one wanted to sit down at the table with him to eat a meal. Even Tobias was giving him more space than usual even though Gibbs was certain the other man didn't know exactly what had been said the night of that idiotic confrontation.

Gibbs was feeling like a pariah in his own house, and it pissed him off.

The things McGee had said kept replaying in his head, and that pissed him off more. Add to it that Tony had thrown in with McGee against him just added more fuel to the fire. They'd had no right to come into his home and start demanding he change how he was running his team. He knew he was tough, but he was fair too. It definitely wasn't fair to make ridiculous accusations against people who weren't even there to defend themselves. He certainly had never heard any crap like that about Abs before.

Gibbs took a drink and let the alcohol warm his belly. He wondered if McGee had been hitting on Abby and had gotten shot down and was trying to get back at her by getting her in trouble with him. His eyes narrowed. If that was the case, he'd find himself with Gibbs' size 10 boots so far up his ass he'd be puking dirt. Whatever the reason, McGee had gone too far and was, as his dad might have said, "too big for his britches" and needed to be taken down a notch. Gibbs figured that getting all the dumpsters, ditches, drainage pipes and other probie work again for as long as it took to break in a new one would do the job just fine.

Tonight, Gibbs had left them all upstairs and escaped to his basement, after Fornell cleared it yet again, trying to get his head screwed on straight. This thing with Ziva was killing him in a way he'd never share with anyone else. His latest project – a hope chest whose lid showed a detailed carving of an eagle with wings spread wide to make up the top left and top right points in a Star of David – was evidence enough of how he felt about the young woman. That he couldn't figure out how much of the last couple of years was real and how much was a cover made him doubt himself, which infuriated him even more.

A small sound from the dark corner of the basement made him still minutely before casually setting down his bourbon and running on work-roughened hand over the top of the hope chest where it was still sitting on his workbench waiting for to be stained and finished.

Ziva crept forward silently, slowly moving to stand just at the edge of where the lamp cast its light.

"A new project, Gibbs?" she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Without looking, Gibbs replied, his hand flat on the center of the Star. "Nope. Started this months back, Ziver, just haven't had time to finish it." Knowing she must have seen it when he was facing the other way, he very carefully didn't reach for the gun he'd tucked into the back of his waistband.

A single step forward put Ziva fully in the warm glow coming from the lamp, and Gibbs had to stop himself from showing his shock at her appearance. She was dressed all in black, her hair tightly braided at the back of her head. She could have been the Mossad assassin he'd met those years ago except for her face. She looked gaunt, not from illness but from the kind of exhaustion one only experienced when facing an insurmountable enemy. Her lips trembled, and her beautiful brown eyes held only agony and defeat.

"You look tired," he said softly, treading carefully. His gut told him no, but there was still the chance she was playing him. "Hard to take care of yourself without anybody on your six."

Her face crumpled briefly and a single tear escaped before she regained her composure.

"I had – I had to – " she closed her eyes before meeting his gaze again. "I had to find out a few things."

Gibbs nodded even though he wasn't sure what she meant.

"Get everything you needed?"

She choked back a sob and wrapped her arms tightly around herself. "I wish I had not." She sobbed openly this time but continued, "Did you know that my father ordered Michael to find me when I was in Israel after the team had been divided? He ordered him to do whatever it took to secure my allegiance and my obedience to my father."

Gibbs shook his head, realizing that Ziva's eyes were unfocused. Whatever she was seeing, it wasn't in his basement.

Ziva shuddered out another breath and her clawed hands rose to clench at either side of her head as if she could stop the images, stop the agony.

"Why, Gibbs?!" she cried. "What is wrong with me that every man I love betrays me? Ari, my father, Michael, and even you! You all choose someone else over me time and time again, and I want to know why! Why can none of you love me?" She was sobbing openly now.

Gibbs removed and secured his Sig before moving carefully toward her.

"You mean when I chose DiNozzo."

"Yes!" she yelled, glaring at him, then looking away and angrily swiping at her tears.

"Ziver, back on the tarmac in Israel, you told me you couldn't trust Tony and asked me to choose. To me, saying you didn't trust him was like saying you didn't trust me because I was the one who recruited him to my team. I made the choice I did because you backed me into a corner, and I knew he never would."

He took another step forward and raised one hand, reaching out toward her hunched shoulder.

"The choice I made that day wasn't the one I wanted to make. My choice would have been to bring both my kids home with me and figure it out once we got here," he explained gently.

Ziva stepped toward him, her eyes locked on his face. "Both your children?"

He nodded a single time. "Eli David might be the perfect leader for Mossad, but he's a crap father, Ziva. He somehow got you believing that he could only love one child at a time, and only the child who was most useful to him. No father worthy of the name would treat his kids like that."

"But you do the same thing!" Ziva protested. "We – Tony, Tim, and I – all compete for your approval all the time!"

"Yeah, I have," Gibbs agreed. "And I've just recently I had Tim get in my face about it. He told me that we might have seen you were hurting and helped you a long time ago rather than letting the team implode like it has. I thought I was making the team stronger. Instead, I've been proving rule 51 all along."

"I do not know rule 51," Ziva admitted quietly, a glimmer of hope in her eyes for the first time.

"It's a doozie, but it might be the most important." Gibbs' brief smile was ironic. "Here it is: rule 51 - Sometimes I'm wrong."

Ziva's huff of laughter was still more pained than amused, though she was no longer crying. She finally allowed Gibbs to place his hand on her shoulder and guide her where the bottom of the hope chest sat, finished except for hinges and it's top.

"Can I show you what I've been working on?" he asked and moved his hand to her back in a semi-embrace.

Ziva nodded, a little confused, but looked curiously at the wooden box that sat on an intricately carved base. It looked to be nearly four feet long and probably two-and-a-half feet high. The outside was made of a light colored wood; she thought probably oak or ash. The inside was a wood she immediately recognized by its distinctive sight and scent – red cedar.

"It is lovely. What is it?"

"It's called a hope chest," Gibbs began. "In America, it used to be tradition that every young lady would be given a chest like this by her father, and she would spend her spare time making clothing and other items she would need once she married. Shannon had one when we got married, though she mostly stored quilts and blankets in hers."

Gibbs' voice was husky with remembered emotion. He nudged Ziva back to his workbench. "Kelly…. I never got to make her a hope chest. I started this one a few months back because I didn't want to wake up one day and find out that it was too late to make one for my other girl."

With a shaking hand, Ziva reached out to trace the eagle's fierce talons where they gripped the bottom of the pentagon formed within the star. They were emblems for two very different but equally proud nations combined into one beautiful symbol for the woman who had embraced and embodied both.

"For me?" she choked out, her eyes filling with tears once more.

Gibbs cupped her face, his thumb wiping way the trail of tears already streaming.

"Tony's important to me, but that never meant there wasn't room for you. You were competitors at work, but he's never been your competition for my love, Ziver."

Ziva cried out, a broken, desperate sound and felt her knees give out. She would have fallen to the cement floor had Gibbs not caught her and held her tightly as he eased them both down. She wrapped her arms around him, her fingers clenching the soft fabric of his t-shirt, and sobbed into his chest, finally giving vent to emotions that had been trapped for far too long. Gibbs just held her and murmured nonsense reassurance, rocking her a little and letting her cry.

When the maelstrom finally came to an end, Gibbs fished out a clean tissue from the pocket of his sweatpants and cleaned the tears from Ziva's face before letting her take it to blow her nose. Her eyes were red from crying, her face was puffy, and she still looked one step from exhausted collapse; yet somehow she seemed better than she had when he'd first seen her. He drew her close and held her once more.

"Darlin', you know you're not well, don't you." Now would come another delicate dance.

She shuddered. "Yes. I have not been well for some time," she admitted.

Gibbs kissed her temple. "I know. Think they call it PTSD nowadays: Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. You've been hurting a long time, but I missed it, and for that I'm sorry." He shushed her when she would have objected. "I missed it before, but I see you now, and I want to help you. I'm not going to lie to you – it's not going to be easy. The way this all fell out has caused a ruckus."

Ziva drew back and swiped at the tears that still escaped her eyes intermittently.

"I know, Gibbs. I am sorry too. I wish I had known how to ask you for help sooner. I wish I had understood that I could." She ducked her head. "What will happen now?"

"Well, first we have to get off this cold floor," Gibbs answered, grunting as he got to his feet and reached out a hand to help her up. She wavered, and he steadied her with both hands on her shoulders. "Here, sit on this sawhorse while I talk to Fornell."

"Fornell?" she asked apprehensively.

"It's alright, Ziva. They've been put in charge of protecting us because we weren't sure what you were thinking. Don't tell him I said so, but Fornell's a good guy. He'll help us get through this."

Ziva looked worried, but didn't object when Gibbs picked up his cell and dialed.

"Fornell." Gibbs paused. "Yes, I'm still in the basement. I need you to go up to my room and grab me some jeans and a shirt I can wear to Bethesda. Why? Ziva came to visit me, and I'm going to go with her to help her check in so she can get some help."

Gibbs held the phone away from his ear as Fornell yelled.

"Are you going to do what I asked or not?" Once he had Fornell's agreement, averse as he was, Gibbs hung up. "Alright, let's head upstairs. Fornell's probably going to insist on cuffing you, but don't let it upset you. I'll be right there every step of the way, alright?"

Half way up the stairs, Ziva paused. "Gibbs, what if this means I am never permitted to be an agent again?"

Deliberately obtuse, he replied, "Well, I s'pose you'll have to start coming over for dinner more."

He was pleased to see she understood what he meant if her quivering smile was any indication.

They reached the top of the steps, and Gibbs opened the door. He didn't even pause to consider how his actions would look to the two members of his team on the other side of the door.

NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS

Tim and Tony stared at the car carrying Fornell, Ziva, and Gibbs as it headed down the street. If anyone had asked, Tim would've had to have admitted this was not at all how he'd seen it ending. He was so astonished that he didn't even know how to react yet.

Tony abruptly turned away and made for the stairs up to the second floor.

Tim sighed. It didn't take a psychiatrist to see he was upset, and Tim couldn't blame him. They'd endured week of protective custody and restricted movement because they were sure Ziva was going to kill them. Then, suddenly, there she was coming up the basement stairs with Gibbs, who was treating her as if it had never happened. Tim wanted to believe Gibbs hadn't been taken in by whatever act Ziva had come up with, but he wasn't so sure. Deeply troubled, he sought out Tony.

He knocked softly on the partially open door to Tony's room and pushed it open the rest of the way once he saw what was going on. Tony had his bags out and was randomly stuffing clothes, DVDs, and medication into them.

"Tony?"

"What, Tim?" Tony snapped.

"What are you doing?"

Tony sneered, "This is called 'packing.' Clearly you haven't' done it enough if you don't recognize what it looks like. It involves putting your belongings in bags and leaving after having been screwed over yet again."

"Tony," Tim tried to grab Tony's arm and nearly got a bloody nose when Tony lashed out.

"NO, Tim. I'm done. I'm going home!"

Tim touched his cheek where Tony's blow had landed, but refused to give in. "Hey, I'm pissed off too, but I'm not going to take it out on you. I told you when this started that I would have your six, and I still mean it. Tell me what's going on so we can work together, not fight each other."

Tony slowed his frenetic motions and finally looked at Tim, his expression immediately apologetic. "Shit. Did I hit you? I didn't realize."

Tim shrugged. "You got in an accidental flailing hit," he smirked. "You're no Mike Tyson."

"Yeah," Tony snorted. "Still, sorry about that." He sighed and shoved over the bags he'd been packing so he could sit on the bed. He gestured at Tim to join him.

"What a cluster," he groaned, and Tim nodded in agreement.

"I don't know what went on down there – heck, I don't even know how she got down there in the first place – but …" Tim huffed angrily. "…whatever that was when those two came up wasn't what I was expecting."

"Stay here long enough, Tim, and you'll see Gibbs never can give up on a woman – especially one so good at making herself look like the poor little girl who needs daddy to rescue her," Tony stated bitterly. "I was honestly surprised he listed to us as much as he did the other night."

Tim pulled up one leg, tucking his foot under his other knee so he could turn and face Tony.

"So what are we doing, Tony? What do you want to do?"

"If you'd asked me a couple of hours ago, I would have said I wanted to stay and work things out on Gibbs' team. I really thought we might have a chance at making things better, choosing a fourth, and going on to become a great team."

"And now?" Tim prodded.

Tony ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "Now? Now I don't know. I don't know if I can take Gibbs' emotional mindfucks anymore. He acts like he cares about the team and wants to fix things, but the second we try to say something negative about Abby, he basically tells us to get lost.

"He does the same thing me all the time. He'll act like he's proud of me, maybe even actually say something nice, but then it's inevitably followed by an insult or putdown. He'll do something great, then the next thing I know he treats me like shit and shoves me aside for something more interesting to do. This room," Tony gestured to the TV and other things that were clearly his. "He set this up for me and let me bring in a TV and DVD player after I had the plague. I stayed with him for about a week before I was allowed to come back to work. I was so happy because no one had ever done anything like that for me before. Even now, part of me believes that he did it because he really does care."

"But the rest doesn't because of what's going on with Ziva?" Tim asked, not quite getting the whole picture.

"Sort of," Tony admitted. "It's more than just that, but it's definitely part of it. I don't understand how he could be so… so cuddly with her when he told us that she admitted in her interview with I.A. that she hates me and wants to see me dead. Does my life matter so much less than whatever horrible, sad thing she's dealing with?"

"Well, I for one am not just going to get over being threatened with broken or cut off fingers any time soon," Tim said grimly. "But where does that leave us – requesting transfers, quitting? Sure, I could move to the private sector and make a hell of a lot more money, but I like doing work that actually helps people. Also, I don't want to end up in Bumfuck Iowa just because I don't want to navigate Gibbs' emotional landmines."

Tony snorted, "Me either. The thing is, I've been offered promotions before, but I've always turned them down in order to stay on the MCRT with Gibbs. Hell, Jenny Shepherd offered me Rota, Spain when Gibbs first came back."

"And you turned it down!" Tim was shocked.

"Yeah, believe me. I've had days I seriously regretted that decision."

"Damn! Selfishly, I'm glad you didn't go, but I'm sorry that you've regretted it." Tim flushed, betting he'd been part of the cause of some of those days.

Tony shrugged, "That's life, Tim. No do-overs, no instant replay."

"Are you honestly ready to leave NCIS if the team can't be fixed."

Tony blew out a lungful of air and thought about it. "Yeah, Tim," he said finally, "I really think I am. I can't keep waiting for Gibbs to validate my existence, and I can't keep waiting for him to retire permanently and hand over the MCRT. With as much as Vance thinks of me, he'd have me back as Agent Afloat before he'd ever offer me my own team much less MCRT."

Tim couldn't disagree. He stood, knowing that they would have to talk further another time.

"Well, either hang up your clothes for tonight or pack them decently and let's get some sleep. We aren't going to change anything right now, and whatever we decide needs to be based on a rational decision, not emotional fallout from – " he gestured vaguely, " – this."

Tony glared but finally agreed, though he did throw a balled up shirt after Tim when Tim reminded him to take his evening nebulizer treatment. Tim just laughed, really getting for the first time why Tony did the same sort of thing to get people to take a step back mentally.

NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS

Tim and Tony were packing up Tim's car when their boss returned early the next morning. Tim was glad the TV and DVD player were already in the trunk along with most of the clothes and personal items Tony'd previously left at Gibbs' house. They were just bringing down the last bags – Tim's clothes and Tony's medication bag – when Gibbs walked in and sat down on his sofa tiredly.

Tim wasn't sure what he should say, and glanced at Tony.

"Everybody else know the protective detail is over?" Tony asked, giving away nothing.

"Yep," Gibbs answered shortly. "You heading home?"

"Yeah," Tony replied easily, but he still stood there like he was waiting for something more from Gibbs. Whatever it was, he didn't get it, so he just nudged Tim forward and followed him out the door.

Tim had already tossed his bag in the back when Gibbs finally decided to see them off.

"Vance's office at 0730. Don't be late," he ordered from his front step.

"Got it," Tim acknowledged, but Tony just slid into the passenger seat and fastened his seatbelt, his face blank. Tim wondered if tomorrow was going to be as bad as he thought it would.

NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS

"Well, it's good to be back in the office, especially since the paperwork seems to have been multiplying the entire time I was gone," Vance said, looking about as happy as he ever did.

They were in the Director's office, again gathered around the conference table.

Vance went on, "I.A. will be here at 1030 hours to interview you, agents McGee and DiNozzo, but I expect that to be a relatively painless process since there will be no charges."

"Wait, what?" Tim blurted out, sitting up straight like he'd just been jabbed with a cattle prod. "No charges? She threatened federal agents, disregarded protocol and orders and escaped custody until she apparently decided to run to Gibbs, who was located in what was supposed to be a safe house. What do you mean there aren't going to be any charges?"

Vance leaned back, dropping the paper with the meeting agenda on it to the table and tossing down his pen. He glared at Gibbs.

"I thought you said you were going to discuss this with your people and tell me if there would be a problem, Gibbs."

Gibbs glared daggers at Tim and took a drink of his coffee, as good as admitting he'd never discussed anything with the two agents.

Vance rubbed his eyes with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand. "Part of the deal made on Ziva David's behalf was that if she would admit herself voluntarily for psychiatric treatment and complete the program prescribed for her, the FBI would drop the charges against her."

"Voluntarily, which means there is minimal security and no guarantee she's not going to decide later today, next week, or in a month that she wants me dead again and walks out to finish the job," Tony growled angrily, his jaw clenching and unclenching.

Now Gibbs looked pissed. "Thought you of all people would understand not wanting to be charged and locked up by the FBI, DiNozzo."

Tony shoved back from the table, "Oh, sure I do. Except, wait. I never did anything I was accused of!" he snarled. "If I had, I doubt you'd have gone to bat to make any cushy deals for me. Yet David gets off with a slap on the wrist and some therapy! What the fuck, Gibbs?! What happened to having my six? As far as I can tell, you left me swinging in the breeze! Again!"

"I would have done what was necessary for you, which is exactly what I did for Ziva. I did what was best for her and for the team. She's been one of us for over five years. That mean nothing to you now, DiNozzo?" Gibbs snarled back.

"Does my life mean nothing to you, Gibbs?" Tony yelled, one hand running through his hair, then clenching in the short strands before letting go.

"It isn't about you," Gibbs barked, getting to his feet.

Tony stood up so fast his chair went over backward. "Isn't about me? In case you missed the message, it was my life she threatened! I was the one she wanted to leave without backup when we were looking for a murderer! That's about as about me as it gets, Gibbs!" Tony was practically vibrating with rage. "How many times do I have to 'take one for the team' because of her before I get to say it's enough?!"

Vance was on his feet now too. "SIT DOWN, everyone!" he bellowed, waiting until Tony and Gibbs were both seated before retaking his own seat. "Obviously, you both," he gestured to Tony and Tim, "were left out of the loop. Unfortunately, the agreements were signed this morning after I didn't hear from Gibbs on this matter yesterday."

Tim wanted to faceplant into his palms, but he managed to resist. This was such a betrayal of both Tony and him that he couldn't even comprehend it. What the hell had happened to the boss who'd backed them when the whole mess came out?

Tony sent him a look and raised his eyebrow. Tim met his gaze with a barely perceptible nod – their prearranged signal that they were both done on team Gibbs and were ready to let the chips fall where they may.

Vance wasn't done yet, though. He turned to Gibbs, apparently so furious that he wasn't even going to bother with a toothpick. "Gibbs, I told you to get your house in order. If this is your idea of 'order,' we need to further discuss the future of the MCRT."

Gibbs' eyes narrowed as he stared down the director. "The MCRT will be fine, Leon, and I definitely don't want or need any interference from you."

"No, actually it won't be, Director." Tim said resolutely. "Like with David, this is one step too far. Agent Gibbs has taken it upon himself to make a decision on my behalf for the last time. You will have my resignation on your desk by the end of today."

Vance's shocked expression was nothing on Gibbs'. It was as though neither of them thought he'd ever have the spine to stand up for himself.

"Agreed." Tony growled through gritted teeth. "This is the last time I 'take one for the team' ever again. You will also have my resignation by the end of today. I'm telling you ahead of time as a courtesy, but SecNav is going to receive a statement of grievance against Agent Gibbs and against you for failing to perform your duties with reference to the safety and legal rights of your agents."

Tim nodded sharply to Tony, saying, "That is the logical step, Tony. I'll be writing one as well." He eyed Vance and added, "I'll also ensure that the SecNav receives our letters digitally just in case the physical copies get 'lost.'"

Gibbs slammed his fist down on the table, causing the coffee in Vance's mug to slosh over the rim. "Now wait just a damned minute! What happened to all that communication and working as a team crap you were going on about the other night?"

Tony snorted, his lip curled in disgust. "Well, sir, I think that lasted until the first time we tried to tell you something you didn't want to hear, and you shut us down."

"If not then, the second you decided to make a decision on our behalf without informing us of it because you knew we wouldn't agree certainly would have." Tim stood and was glad to see Tony already doing the same. "Director, since the agreements you signed – again on behalf of Agent DiNozzo and myself without having confirmation of our concurrence – are legally binding, there is nothing further to discuss."

"McGee, DiNozzo, wait. I – "

"Have nothing to say that we could possibly want to hear, Director. I think it's time Tim and I each gave some thought to the multiple job offers we receive every year," Tony said stiffly and opened the door, motioning for McGee precede him. "Good luck finding a new MCRT. Actually, good luck finding anyone to work for you ever again after this gets out – and you know it will," he tossed out as he closed the door behind him.

Tim figured was as close to telling them to fuck off as Tony would allow himself. He almost wished he had the guts to say those two little words himself.

NCIS*NCIS*NCIS*NCIS

Three years later:

Tim slumped in his desk and rested head in his palms. He was completely wiped out. It had been a long, horrific case involving the abduction and trafficking of teen and pre-teen girls. After nearly three months of almost steady work on the case, Tim was having one of those days he'd discussed with Tony years earlier – the days he wondered if it was worth the battle.

He was almost dozing when he felt something hit the back of his head lightly.

Jerking awake, he looked blearily around until he found his co-lead.

"Three hundred twenty-three," the man said.

Tim just looked at him, waiting for him to go on.

"Three hundred twenty-three women and girls rescued, McHero, and twenty-six of them were saved before they'd been raped."

Tim nodded, taking in the numbers. I didn't feel like enough, but it never did.

"I know, Tony. I just wish…" he trailed off.

"I know," Tony said, squeezing his shoulder, and Tim knew he did. They'd been partners at the FBI for over a year before they'd come to the attention of the higher-ups. Now they were co-leads for an international taskforce of eight who worked closely with in-country law enforcement to target human traffickers all over the world. They were currently in Italy, but from what Tim had seen over the last year or so, no country was left untouched by the worthless bastards who thought it was okay to sell somebody's children, at times their own daughters and sons, into slavery.

It was tough, really tough some days to come in and see the depravity of human beings, especially when it seemed to be like a hydra – cut off the head, and two more pop up. Hardly ever being able to go "home" at night was difficult at times too, but they were making a difference, and this last case would be a huge blow to a ring of sex traffickers they'd hoped to get a lead on since they'd started.

"Come on, reports tomorrow, supper now," Tony announced, clapping his hands together and getting tired but sincere cheers in response. Even Tim found himself smiling a little.

Tim looked at Tony again and could see the weariness in his friend and co-lead's face.

"You still have a lasagna in the freezer?" Tim asked, doing his best to make himself look pathetic and hungry.

Tony chuckled. "Yeah, and probably even more food than that if Louisa across the way thinks I've been looking 'too skinny' again. If you bring the beer, I'll share. I'll even let you pass out on my sofa and won't say anything when you drool on the leather."

Tim got to his feet and stretched, hearing the vertebrae in his lower back crack. He groaned.

"Sounds good. See you in thirty?"

Tony was trying to cover a yawn with one hand, so he just got a vague hand wave in agreement before the other man was off to his own desk to clear it off so he could head home.

Tim looked around the office space they'd been allowed in the local office, nearly everyone already gone. This definitely wasn't where he'd pictured he'd end up that afternoon he'd had to decide which direction he was going to take, but he knew he'd do the same thing if he'd had it to do all over again, despite how others had reacted.

Jimmy had understood, unsurprisingly, but Ducky had been torn between his own sense of justice and his old friend. Tim didn't begrudge him for letting their friendship die off. He knew how hard it was when you felt pulled in two directions.

Abby had thrown an almighty fit until Tim had actually threatened to have her arrested if she didn't quit stalking him. She'd threatened him with her standard of knowing how to kill him without leaving a trace, and he actually had submitted a report to the police, to NCIS, and to SecNav. He hadn't heard from her since.

Tim had heard that Vance and Gibbs were both gone from NCIS, and he couldn't help but feel a little vindictively pleased. He didn't know or care where Ziva had ended up, though it was probably the same place Gibbs had ended up. They could be co-dependent for the rest of their lives as far as he was concerned.

Tony had turned out to be every bit the intelligent, kind guy Tim had thought he was, so being able to continue working with him and to develop a real friendship was gratifying. Above and beyond his interpersonal relationships and his work, Tim actually liked the person he was growing to be; he certainly respected himself more now.

No, Tim didn't regret his decision at all. The path he'd taken had shown him how to be true to himself and to others. He knew he'd gained a reputation for being a nice guy with a great deal of integrity but who also had a wicked sense of humor and could give as good as he got when it came to practical jokes, which pleased him. He worked hard to keep a good balance.

Tim almost grinned at the thought of the joke he had planned for the next day, but he hurriedly distracted himself with putting away his laptop and grabbing his jacket. There was no sense in giving it away now. After all, tomorrow would bring the tedious reports and reams of paperwork as well as the emotional let-down from finishing a huge case. The team would need something to get them take a step back and laugh.

To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, thou canst not then be false to any man. – Shakespeare