Do Not Own NCIS

Spoilers from Extreme Prejudice

Written for the NFA McRomeo challenge

Contains violence, some strong language

Notes: Gibbs' rules

Rule 1 - Never screw over your partner

Rule 5- You don't waste good

Rule 12 - Never date a coworker

The Other Side of the Coin

xxxxx

Tim didn't flinch when Tony punched the orange wall inches from his head; his eyes, impassively glued on Tony's. Tim could hear sheet rock settle and glimpsed a billow of dust in his peripheral vision.

Tony gritted his teeth, leaning his hands against the wall on each side of Tim, glaring deep into his eyes, searching for a trace of remorse or guilt, his anger growing as he studied him.
Relief with a slight admiration towards Tony was evident in Tim's countenance as he leaned back against the wall. He glanced sideways, "Judging by the hole in the wall and the blood on your knuckles, I'd say this is the angriest I've ever seen you." Tim was hoping to initiate Tony's humorous side, curtailing his temper.
"Oh, is that so, McBackstabber."

"I knew you couldn't hit me, Tony, we're like broth-"

Tony's intentions were already executed before Tim finished his sentence; the irritation in his expression quickly became apologetic as he shocked McGee by slugging him in the stomach; instantly regretting it. Dammit! He was going to say brothers. A bad day that proceeded to get worse by the minute. Why hadn't he just gone home earlier?

Panic-stricken, he eyed the spot on McGee's abdomen where a shard of glass from a shattered window in the bullpen, had penetrated only a few days before. He silently prayed he would not see blood staining his shirt within the next few seconds.
McGee's face could not conceal the intense pain he was experiencing as he dropped, his body sliding against the wall, crumbling onto the floor, holding his stomach. Squeezing his eyes shut, perspiration broke out on his forehead as his focus on Tony ceased.
Tony fought the urge to aid his fallen friend, turning his back on him as he disappeared around the corner without a glance. He literally felt sick, disgusted in himself for abandoning him. His friend, his co-worker, but more than that; he considered Tim his little brother. He just wanted the day to end.

xxxxxxxxxxx

Tim was able to talk himself through the pain until it subsided as he struggled his way to the bathroom to check his wound. It had started to bleed, slightly but the stitches were intact, so he patched it up by adding a paper towel underneath the bandage to conceal the minimal flow of blood.

Walking into the bullpen he noticed Tony's jacket and backpack were gone, saddened by his friend's rejection and disregard to the physical pain he inflicted on him. He rolled his eyes, exhaling a breath of tension.

Gibbs was the only member left in the bullpen. "Hey, Tim. Packing it up for the day? It's pretty late and you look... tired." Tim was surprised with the show of concern Gibbs had for him. He was using his 'sweet voice'. The un-Gibbs voice; only heard, on rare occasions. Unlike the, 'McGee, whatya got voice' that he heard on a daily basis.

"Uh, I should really stay. I may have something, I was...uh..just taking a break." Tim mumbled, getting Gibbs' attention.

Tim hurried behind his desk, fingers typing before he was completely sitting in his chair. "I was checking on the Dearing residence over in Fallsworth that has been vacant for the past ten years or so. The one where his son Evan grew up in. I kept coming back to it over the last few weeks, checking the thermal scan of the area. It didn't show any sign of people until this morning; one person. I also checked to see if there were any recent deliveries or mail sent there, or any other services that might have been requested. Nothing...until today. There was a long list of items delivered there from Radio Shack; a phone, laptop and some other items. But, the delivery wasn't made until this afternoon."

Gibbs leaned over McGee's back looking at the screen with him. "Radio Shack, huh? Well, could the company have delivered the goods to the wrong address?"
Tim looked at Gibbs, pointing his finger in the air with enthusiasm, "I checked and it was a mistake but...not..in that...way. The recipient didn't want the goods delivered to the house, they were, actually suppose to be picked up at the store."

Gibbs looked surprised. "So, if this was indeed Dearing did he use his real name?"

"No. He used the name Fielding." McGee waited for Gibbs to respond as his boss glared at the screen.

"Uh...boss. Are you okay? It looks as if you saw a ghost."

"I think I did." Gibbs whispered.

"Huh?"

Gibbs ignored McGee's confusion. "So, how do you know it was him?"

"I asked one of the radio shack employees what he looked like." Tim sat back, with a brief, smug expression.

Gibbs grinned. "Yeah. I hear those Radio shack employees are a tough bunch to crack."

McGee pouted.

"Nah, I'm kidding, that's really good work, Timmy." Gibbs smacked him playfully on the back.

Tim's eyebrows, raised in confusion for a second before he continued.

"I was, also going through Dearings' phone records-"
"Well, yeah. You did that a while ago, Tim."
"Yeah, but I went farther back and searched for new accounts with similar calling patterns."
"What did you come up with?"
"He has done some extensive research on you boss. We already know he knows all about Shannon and Kelly...and their deaths. But, he knows even more; anything and everything from your favorite ice cream flavor to the grades you received in spelling class when you were in first grade."

"He knows about Pedro Hernandez."

"Well...yeah. Sorry boss."

"Hey, it's not your fault." Gibbs said quietly.

Tim frowned, questioningly. "And then I started checking to see if he did any research on the rest of the team-"
"He did some on you, too, didn't he, Tim?"
"Uh, yeah. But, how did you know? I was the last one I checked." Gibbs walked back to his desk, deep in thought as he sat, swiveling in his chair.
Gibbs slowly brought his attention back to his junior field agent now, as he approached his desk. He knew his softened mood would urge Tim to question the concern that showed in his eyes, for him.

"Uh, boss?"

"Yeah, Tim."
"You've been awfully distracted since the attack on the navy yard and I can understand why, but is there something else bothering you?"
Gibbs rubbed his face, sighing, grabbing the edge of his desk with both hands to roll his chair away from his desk. "Tim, we need to talk."
McGee scratched his head, humbly, trying to disguise his embarrassment with a nervous laugh. "Is this about Rule twelve? Because, I would like to counter it with Rule five, unless you would like to bring up Rule one which, I would agree would put me in a lot of trouble-"
"No. It's about us." Gibbs looked up to meet Tim's eyes. "Me and you." Gibbs' voice was serious, yet kind; confusing Tim."

"But, boss, did you hear what I said?"

"I want you to come by my place tomorrow night. I have something I need to show you...and tell you. I'm sorry I can't make it tonight, but...there's something I've got to do."
Gibbs stood, holstering his gun, then patted Tim's back, hesitating. "Goodnight, Tim." McGee speechless, watched the older man amble towards the elevators.

xxxxxxxxxxxxx

Ziva tiptoed into the living room from the kitchen, then kneeled on the floor besides Tim. He was oblivious to her presence, sprawled out on her couch, fading fast.
She leaned in close to whisper in his ear while playing with his hair, "Are you okay, Tim?" Tim's eyes popped open from the tickling sensation of her lips on his ear.

"You barely ate any dinner and you are exceptionally quiet this evening." She gave him a slow peck on the cheek when she finished her sentence as she watched him stretch.
A tired smile grew on his face, smoothing over the worried lines in hers. "I'm good now; come here."
Ziva climbed over Tim, prudently avoiding the area on his torso that was injured from the explosion.

She formed her warm body into the side of his, resting her head on his chest, listening to his calm heartbeat. Tim ran his hands through her hair, smiling at the instant goosebumps rising over her arms. He nestled his long fingers across the front of her neck, warming it, enjoying the sensation of her pulse on his fingertips.
"You talked to Tony, didn't you?" She felt him tense, as she leisurely played with the buttons on his shirt, consecutively unfastening them, to help ease the strained topic of conversation.
"Oh, you could say that."

Ziva popped up, placing her hands on either side of Tim as she straightened her arms to support herself, hoping to discern any hidden emotions in his docile expression. She made it a point to look assertively into his green, gentle eyes. "Very angry?"

The memory of his confession to Tony was emotionally catching up with him, as he felt a deep-rooted guilt over the anguish he provoked and the hurt he felt watching Tony walk away as he left him, in pain on the floor. The most he could offer Ziva for an answer was a shrug while diverting his eyes.

She grasped his chin turning his eyes back to hers, recognizing the guilt weighing heavy on him and began to weave her fingers through his hair, as his eyes fought to stay open. "Would you recommend I have a talk with him?"

"That probably wouldn't be a good idea right now, Ziva." Tim mumbled.

She grinned at his vulnerable state, his mussed hair, disheveled shirt and half-closed eyes; the look distracting her as she lost interest in their conversation.

Tim closed his eyes as his fingertips, delicately brushed Ziva's arms, braced by his sides. "Have you noticed the strange behavior in Gibbs, lately?"

"You are not doing a good job of changing the subject, but yes, he has seemed preoccupied. But, what can you expect after an accomplished terrorist attack on the navy yard?"
"Yeah, I know, but there's something more. I sensed it at the hospital when he stayed with me in recovery, when you weren't there. I can't remember everything because I was on painkillers but he was acting very un-Gibbs-like, to me."
"He was very worried about you. It is not everyday the people you love and consider family are injured in an explosion. We were all worried about you,Tim."

"Yeah...but, it's more than that. He told me before he left work, tonight, that he wanted to have a talk with me tomorrow night."
"Did he tell you what it was concerning?"
"It concerned him and me and then he patted my back just before he left. At one point he even called me...Timmy." Tim's eyes widened, with exaggeration.

Ziva giggled at his playfulness. "I did notice he has been addressing you by your given name more often." Ziva softly dropped, snuggling in closer to Tim, rubbing her cheek against his chest, enjoying their closeness. She poked a finger through the opening of his shirt to trace small patterns over his smooth chest. "Now, I am very curious." She proceeded to slowly open his shirt, taking advantage of his submissive state, when a change in her position caused him to wince and draw in a breath filled with pain.

"Is it your side?" she asked alarmed.
Tim nodded, his eyes closed, tightly. Ziva brought her full attention to quickly unbuttoning his shirt, her previous intentions now forgotten.

Tim tried to sit up. "Ziva. Wait."

Opening it, she carefully lifted his bandage to examine underneath, drawing in a breath when she found the recent dried blood and paper towel fixed in between.
"What happened, Tim, why was it bleeding? It is causing you extreme pain."
"I just... bumped it.. kind of; it's fine."
"It is not fine, Timothy. Look at me. Did something happen between you and Tony?"
"Ziva. He was upset. I neglected to discuss my intentions with you before I pursued our relationship. It's a guy thing and I blew it. I know he had feelings for you... we can't deny it."

"McGee. You are not even allowed out on the field yet. You are still assigned to desk duty and he... punched you?"

"I know he forgot about my injury, he didn't mean it. He was having a bad day... I should never have brought it up."

"I do not understand why he is so angry and you... aren't! I am not some object to be fought over, Tim. Don't I have any say in all this?"

Tim pursed his bottom lip, raising his eyebrows as an indication of agreement.

Ziva got quiet, her jaw rigid with anger, afraid of what was next. Tim opened his mouth to speak but she interrupted. "Please, don't say it..."
"You know it's true. Maybe we should just wait until this case it over. We will have more time to discuss this between us."
"Tim. He is a big boy. Tony and I were never meant to be. You know I love Tony but...it is different than it is with me and you. You are, also my best friend. I feel that we are very... combustible."

Tim's brows furrowed as he tilted his head. "Com...patible?"

"That, too, sweetheart." Tim almost corrected her but realized she might be right. Ziva always could ignite a flame deep inside of him.

"Ziva. It's not like I want to think things over. I just want this relationship to start off on the right foot-"

"Right foot, left foot, what does it matter how we are walking while we are together,Tim?"

"Zeevs. I don't want any hard feelings between any of us and besides, we are already breaking a rule-"

"A Gibbs' rule. Have you ever asked me what my rules are?"

"Zeevs."

She stared at his chest, avoiding his pleading eyes. Tim reached up, holding her face in his hand as his thumb delicately, rubbed her cheek. She almost caved but turned away, releasing his gentle grip from her face.

"You need a new bandage." Ziva climbed over Tim as he grabbed her wrist, gently. She snapped it out of his grasp, then continued towards the bathroom.

Tim leaned back into the couch, bringing the heels of his palms to rub away the hot sting behind his eyes as she left the room.

xxxxx

Gibbs unscrewed the back of the old portable radio to take a look at it and try to figure out why it wasn't working. He had the radio for years and was reluctant to trash it. He figured it was probably just the same loose wire he had fixed multiple times in the past. Besides, he needed to keep his hands busy as he worked through his thoughts of what he would say to Tim. It was time he needed to know, now that he had all the facts to prove it. He felt relieved knowing he would finally disclose the information that had kept him up so many nights for the last few weeks.

Gibbs' throat tightened. He put the screwdriver down letting the three photographs, that lay nearby on the workbench, gain his full attention. He slid them side by side, wondering how he couldn't have seen the resemblance before. Common sense would have told him, there would not have been any reason to even consider the possibility without the information that had been recently revealed to him, but the similarities were remarkable.

FLASHBACK FROM A FEW DAYS BEFORE

"Tim? Tim. You are going to feel loopy for a while."
The young agent took his time to focus on his boss's face; leaning over his bed. He didn't feel any pain, but extremely nauseous and dazed. "I don't like this feeling, boss." Tim's head seemed to roll, without any control, causing him to feel additionally woozy.
"I can understand, you've never been one for drinking, disliking the effects it has on you. But, it's better than the excruciating pain you would be feeling right now if you weren't on the meds."
"Did they get the... window out of my ...stomach?" Tim tried to keep his heavy eye lids open, craning his neck to inspect his abdomen, lifting his bed sheet to see.
Gibbs offered Tim a sympathetic smile, holding his hands to stop his efforts. The young man's sorrowful eyes broke his heart. "Yes, they got the glass out- Whoa, just let me get a...there you go." Tim leaned over the side of the bed, grabbing his clenched stomach as he threw up into the bedpan Gibbs held for him. The pressure in his middle was strong and sharp, causing him to shut his eyes in pain.

Gibbs rubbed Tim's back. "Feel better?" Tears slid down Tim's cheeks as he sloppily wiped his lips with the back of his hand, leaning his head back against the pillow. Gibbs ran his hand through his hair trying to relax him while Tim closed his eyes to concentrate on getting past the nausea.

"That's it, it'll pass. Relax. Breath."
"You don't have to stay boss...I'll...be...k. You're prob..ly too busy to stay." Tim mumbled, his strength waning.
Gibbs watched Tim fall into a deep sleep as he soothingly, rubbed his arm. Gibbs' sight grew cloudy as he attempted to swallow the tension in his throat. "I'm sorry, Tim. If we had known, we would have been there for you."

END OF FLASHBACK

Gibbs heard a knock at his front door, breaking him from his thoughts. He stepped back from his bench to get a better look at the top of the basement stairs, waiting to see if it was who he was expecting. Steps echoed from the first floor until they reached the basement door. "Hey, Leon."