A/N: This story contains discussion of corporal punishment of a minor. If this offends you leave now. You have been warned.

I was standing at my workbench jotting down sketches for a couple of woodworking projects I'd been toying with trying out when I heard the door open overhead. My door is never locked so it's not that unusual for anyone who knows me well to pop in unannounced, especially now that I have retired. DiNozzo, in particular, has been coming by a lot lately. He's still getting used to leading his own team, and he often comes by to tell me about. He's a good leader, but it's hard to make him believe that. He's cocky as hell in public, but what he really feels is a different story. To my surprise though, it wasn't Tony who appeared on the stairs a few moments later. It was Tim, and he looked absolutely shellshocked.

I stopped what I was doing instantly and turned to him. "What's wrong?" I asked. My mind was already whirling with a thousand gruesome images. Had something happened to Abby? To the girls? He crept toward me, shoulders slumped, in a way that reminded me strongly of a child who expected to be punished. "What's wrong, Tim?" I asked again, a little more firmly.

"I hurt her, Boss," he replied quietly, in a tiny voice.

I raised an eyebrow. The idea of McGee hurting anyone was so uncommon that the notion was almost ludicrous. In the line of duty, maybe. Accidentally, occasionally. But somehow this didn't sound like a professional decision or an unintentional mistake. That look said deliberate and personal, and that was unusual indeed. "Who?"

"Leigh," he whispered.

That was the last thing I expected to hear. "What?!" I blurted, whirling on him. "What happened?"

Tim sank heavily onto an overturned bucket, commandeering it as a makeshift stool. "She got into my work bag."

My heart leaped into my throat. I knew Tim didn't keep his gun in there, but there were wire cutters in any number of other sharp tools in there. "Did she get hurt?" Tim shook his head, staring at his hands. "Then what?"

As Tim told it, he been working in the office he and Abby shared. Leigh has been playing on the floor nearby, alternating between coloring and building blocks. When his phone rang, he'd stepped out of the room to speak to one of his agents out of the range of little listening ears. He'd only left Leigh alone for a moment, thinking her content with her toys, but when he returned, he found her digging through his backpack, its contents strewn around her, his handcuffs locked securely around her little ankles.

I couldn't help myself. I chuckled, shaking my head.

Tim glared at me mutinously. "It wasn't funny," he grumbled.

"No, I'm sure it wasn't to you," I said. I knew well how I had felt about Kelly being around my own uniform and equipment, and I knew that Tim and Abby had similar rules about the girls touching their things. Aside from Tim's gun and the knife I'd taught him to carry, both of which remained under lock and key, they never took anything truly dangerous home, but there were often reports and gruesome crime scene pictures. Therefore, the girls were strictly forbidden to touch any of Tim or Abby's work things. "What did you do?"

He drooped even further before my eyes. "I yelled at her," he admitted quietly.

He looked so devastated it was almost comical. "Son, Leigh is hardheaded and headstrong. It's hardly the first time she's been yelled at, and I promise you it won't be the last."

"That's not all," he went on, quieter still, "then I hit her."

"You did what?!" I stared at him, unable to believe what I was hearing. I knew as well as anyone that parenthood could drive you to the edge of sanity. I'd lost my temper with Kelly more than once. I wasn't proud of it, but I was human. I had done it. Even so, I'd never hit her, and Tim McGee was the most nonviolent person I knew. He was the last person I'd ever expect to lash out at a child, no matter the circumstances. "Explain," I ordered.

As I had expected, he responded to the tone instinctively. He began speaking again, quietly, hesitantly. "I ran into the room and grabbed her." Thinking back on it, he thought he might have even shaken her a little. "What are you doing, young lady?" he'd shouted, stern and terrible. Leigh had stared at him, shocked and wide-eyed. Snagging his handcuff keys from the floor, he'd sat down, pulled her into his lap, and unlocked the cuffs from her feet. "Were you in my workbag, Leigh?" he'd demanded. Leigh, frantic and clearly knowing she was in trouble, shook her head. He'd lifted her head and looked her in the eye. "Are you telling me the truth, Leigh Anne?" Defeated, Leigh had crumpled, eyes filling with tears. "And I stood her on her feet," he finished, looking guiltily at the floor, "and smacked her, hard."

Suddenly, the pieces all fell into place. "Wait a minute, Tim, are you telling me you spanked her?" He nodded slowly, biting his lip and looking at me like a small boy caught misbehaving. "Was this the first time?" I asked, knowing the answer even as I asked the question.

"Yes, sir," he replied quietly, clearly miserable.

I reached automatically for my bottle of bourbon, pouring some into an old but passably clean Mason jar that I found hidden on a shelf and handing it to Tim. It was a sign of the state he was in that he took it and downed it without a word, though I knew he didn't really care for bourbon. He grimaced and shuddered. I held the bottle out to him again, but he shook his head. Taking that as I sign that he at least had his wits about him enough to remember his distaste for my drink of choice and was therefore aware enough to talk, I settled myself back against the table beside him. "You know you didn't hit Leigh, right? Only spanked her, and you know there's a difference."

"But I made her cry," Tim protested, looking like he was close to doing the same himself.

"Of course, she cried, Tim," I said. "She's four; she got spanked. It's expected."

"But I caused it," he insisted.

I drew a deep breath, raking a hand over my head. Most people thought Leigh had inherited her stubborn streak from Abby, but at times like this, there wasn't a doubt in my mind that she'd gotten a good dose of it from her father too. I picked up the pencil I'd been drawing with, twirling it between my fingers absently, and changed tactics. "Why would you do such a thing?" I asked, deliberately letting disapproval slip in to my voice.

Tim's head snapped up. "What do you mean why did it do it?" he asked, shocked. "I told you what she did! She could have gotten hurt, if she'd touched something sharp or poisoned, if I'd had finger print powder or something in there and she'd managed to get it in her mouth. Leigh knows better."

"Yes, she does," I agreed quietly. "She knows the rule, and she knows she broke it. You did exactly what you're supposed to do, as her dad. You enforced the consequences of breaking that rule. That's your job. "

"But..." he began again.

"But nothing," I flared , cutting him off. "For crying out loud, McGee will you stop beating yourself up and listen? You did nothing wrong." Tim shook his head, clearly doubtful." Did you beat her black and blue? Scream at her? Berate her and call her names?"

Tim looked absolutely scandalized. "Of course not, Boss. What kind of person do you think I am? All I did was swat her bottom a few times and tell her never to do it again. Then I gave her a hug and sent her off to play with Katie."

I had to fight to hide a smile. "You have nothing to feel guilty about then. Sounds like you handled things really well."

He sighed. "So if I did the right thing," he asked, "why is it so hard?"

I reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. "Because, son, sometimes being a dad is hard. It's not a job for the weak, that's for sure."

"Does it ever get easier?" Tim asked.

For a moment, I wasn't sure I was qualified to answer that. After, Kelly had only been a few years older than Leigh and Katie were now. But looking at Tim, who, like Tony, was my son in every way but blood, I realized that I did know. "Some things do," I said quietly. "It probably won't be nearly as traumatic the next time, but it's never easy to punish your children, no matter how old they get." I gave him a pointed look and his faint blush told me he understood the reference. "But you do it because you're their dad and it's your job to teach them and keep them safe."

Tim nodded, and this time he finally seemed to really understand. He started to speak, but whatever he was about to say was cut off when his cell phone rang. He pulled it out and answered, and I knew immediately he was talking to Abby and she wasn't happy. A moment later, he ended the conversation and turned to me, looking sheepish. "I guess I had better get home. I didn't tell Abby I was leaving."

I laughed, shaking my head, and waved him toward the stairs. We both knew Abby's temper was nothing to toy with. Halfway up, he stopped and turned back to me. "Thanks, Boss."

"You're welcome, son," I replied quietly and watched him go.