Author's note: Hey guys! I do hope this update satisfies you for now as my exams have just started off. I will not be updating for another 2 weeks or so. I will gladly answer any concerns you guys have on PM. Now, to answer some of your reviews:
Earthdragon: Heyo! To answer your enquiry about Tim's answer to Gibbs, Tim is horrible at lying as we know from the series. This fic is Tim-centric and the idea in my mind requires Tim to have some complications with communication problems with the team sometimes
Also a VERY VERY big Thank You and a virtual hug to:
Crawcolady
RiceFlower
JonnyP86
torontogirl12
Remember! Reviews are my encouragement!
Chapter 2
*Tim's POV*
What had triggered those? A case? No. he doubted it. He had buried those memories and nightmares years ago in a closed and locked section of his mind. He had locked them up so tight that he doubted, even if they did have the technology to read and interpret minds, not even the CIA or Abby or even the guys in cybercrimes could get past his. All he knew at this point of time was that he had to get out of the bullpen. Get away from the stares and the whispers.
He had to get away from Tony and Ziva's ever inquiring and pitying looks. He had to get away before Gibbs could come back and refuse to call Sarah till he explained. However most all, he needed a stiff drink. None of the stuff that Gibbs drank, but a real drink. Maybe some Devil Springs Vodka. Ah, yes. That would hit the spot. (A/N: that IS a real drink btw. Go look it up. It is VERY potent. Second most alcoholic beverage.) God only knew how long it had been since he had touched the stuff. It had been sitting on his shelf for years now. The first time he had it, was the first time he had had gotten rip roaring drunk and that night had changed his life. He didn't know if it was for the best or for the worst. Just thinking this, brought memories to the front of his mind.
Pushing them to the back of his mind again, he stood up and walked towards the break room, ignoring both his team mates calling his name. On reaching the said room, he opened the topmost cabinet which held Gibbs' personal coffee stash and felt around till he felt that little knob that opened up a secret panel on the side of the cupboard. He reached in till his hand came upon a small bottle and two glasses. He picked up one glass and the small bottle and set them down on the counter. Now, where exactly was that ice-chest? He knew there was one in the room as some of the officers liked cold coffee. Then, he spotted the little red ice-chest sitting near the smoothie machine. Aha! There you are you little bugger. With that thought he poured himself a generous amount of the vodka and put 2 cubes of ice into it. He tasted it and sighed. Oh, how I've missed this little beauty. Can't exactly take out the bloody bottle in the bullpen, can I? He slowly moved over to the small window overlooking the city and gazed at the city at night lost in memories, thoughts and nightmares.
*Tony POV*
McGee was moving like he was on autopilot or something. What was up with McElfLord? First, he falls asleep in the bullpen, then he has a freaking nightmare about someone named Carrie. Maybe the movie? Yeah, probably. McGeek probably got too freaked out by it. Great blackmail material this is. But the question still remains, why the hell was he crying? Might not be the movie after all. If it was the movie, he wouldn't ask us to call Sarah.
I better go check on him. If he touches Boss' stash, he's a dead man walking.
*3rd Person POV*
However, as Tony reached the break room, he was taken by surprise once again. There was McGee, no, not McGee. Tim. There was Tim, standing tall at the window in the break room. There was a solitary light on inside the room and that was at the coffee station. Then, Tony noticed something. Tim had a drink in his hand. Tim had never been one to drink. He hardly went out to pubs and clubs with Tony. And if he did, he refused any alcoholic beverage. Nevertheless, here he was standing with a drink in his hand and by the looks of it, it was neat. (A/N: as in no soda, no water. Undiluted). When he looked to where the bottle was standing on the coffee counter, his astonishment grew. My, my McGee. You certainly are hiding a lot of things aren't you? Here was the geekiest kid on the block, drinking one of the most potent alcohols in the United States and not even flinching. Not even Tony himself could drink that. Probie's got guts. I'll give him that. Drinking that in the middle of the night in the office.
Tony stood back and studied the man standing in front of him. This was not his Probie, Not the McGeek that he worked with. In his stead was a sophisticated businessman or author having a stiff drink after a long day at the office or after a prolonged writer's block. He was standing tall and gazing out into the city lights as they flickered in front of him. He looked deep in thought and most probably was. Tony slowly moved away from the door and turned to go to the bullpen but not before hearing the words "I love you. I hope you're taking care of yourself and Carrie up there. Keep our princess safe Diane."
Feeling as if he had just intruded on a private moment, Tony moved fast and silently to the bullpen, pondering over what he had just heard and seen.