Getting into NCIS was hell. Well, a giant pain in the ass, to be accurate. The same old guys at the gate greeted him as they always had, though Gibbs could see they'd aged as well. They were certainly surprised to see him-one commenting him on his appearance after all this time, and another surprised that he'd come out of it. The formalities were pointless, though; they still wouldn't let Gibbs in without calling someone.
Greatly annoyed, Gibbs looks up to see his escort-and sighs a breath of relief as he sees McGee. "Finally. McGee, good to see ya." Gibbs stands up, silencing the grunt that threatened to escape his throat. He pauses, looking Tim up and down. Physically fit, just as he'd been years ago. Still short hair. His clothes are nicer, though. But what catches his eye are the glasses. McGee doesn't wear glasses. Yet, he's got a stylish but discreet pair on his face.
"Boss, welcome back. I hadn't heard that you were awake." McGee pauses, looking into Gibbs' face. He smiles a bit. "You walked out. I see. Come on up to the squad room, we can talk on the way."
Gibbs raises an eyebrow at McGee's casual tone, lack of surprise; and how McGee read his face so quickly, so easily. {The hell?} He follows McGee, noting how everyone nods to McGee and says hellos to him, whereas only a few acknowledge Gibbs.
"Do you know how long you've been in a coma?" McGee breaks the silence as they walk through the hall.
Gibbs glances around, satisfied to see the building looks the same, save a new layer of paint or so. "No, I don't."
McGee slows down a little, letting Gibbs catch up-as he's lagging behind, huffing a bit. He glances at Gibbs' face, knowing better than to beat around the bush with him. "Twelve years, Boss."
Gibbs, who had been having trouble keeping up in general, is floored by this information. He stops immediately, looking at McGee strangely. "Eh?" He peers past the glasses, into McGee's sympathetic, curious and confident eyes. "Twelve?"
"Yes." McGee pauses, watching Gibbs' reaction with mild interest. "The explosion in your basement took you out.. Ziva was shielded by you, so she only suffered light burns and a concussion." He hushes for a minute, until Gibbs' eyes reveal that it sunk in. "You've been in the same bed for twelve years. We never gave up hope that you'd come out, we just never realized.. it would take you this long."
Gibbs walks up to the wall, turns his back to it, and leans against it, closing his eyes as the information runs through his mind a few times. {Twelve years. Twelve goddamn years. How much did I miss? Is the rest of my team all right? Why is McGee so different, anyway? New attitude, new confidence, he hasn't stumbled over his words once since he showed up.}
McGee watches his former boss with a bit of concern. "Would you like to rest for a bit?"
Gibbs opens his eyes and looks up at McGee with a look that says 'of course not, McGee, why are you asking that?' and pushes himself off the wall. "I can do that once we get to the bull pen."
"Right." McGee continues the trek, leading the few yards more to the elevator. Once they're both in, he speaks again. "Things.. have changed. You may want to prepare yourself for things you never thought you'd expect."
"Why don'tcha just explain it to me, McGee?" Gibbs is leaning against the wall again, clearly tired.
McGee earns another half-grin, so similar to Gibbs' that it's scary. He relishes this conversation; it's so nostalgic. "I think they'd like to tell you themselves."
Gibbs watches McGee with utter confusion, but remembers Ziva's words. "Some people change, Gibbs."
The elevator emits the familiar 'ding' before opening. The two men walk toward the squad area, which hadn't changed too much-Gibbs notices that the plasma has been replaced by a long, thin bar sitting on a desk-and the computers were similar. No mouse, no keyboard.. just a bar with a button on its end and a cord on the other end. He shrugs and heads to his old desk, which is absent-as are the others.
"They're out on a case right now," McGee explains, "as I'm sure you can tell. While you wait, I'll show you how the technology has changed." He doesn't even ask Gibbs, just walks over, pushes the button on the side of the bar-and a screen pops up instantly. It looks like a real computer screen.. but it's all light and holographics. "Nowadays, we need one button. The rest is controlled by our hands. Like this." He touches a spot on the screen, a little 'button' that had been in the corner-and a lighted keyboard appears in front of them. "It's really handy. These are portable too, just uplug it and pocket it. All of the information is stored in the small section.. and they hold a few zettabytes. Which is.. well, compared to how you knew it, about ten thousand times more than what we used to have."
Gibbs shifts his stare between McGee and the computer, but it finally settles on McGee again. He squints a bit, not just because his vision had degraded ever so slightly in the coma; but mainly to scrutinize McGee and break him down a little.
McGee just stares back, the same steady look of iwatching/i that Gibbs remembered.. Director Shephard to do. Vance, too.
"McGee.. where's the Director?" He stands up to pay Vance a visit, but stops when McGee holds a hand up in a 'stop' motion.
"Sit down, boss." It comes out not so much as an order, but as a 'I have something to tell you' tone.
Gibbs raises a brow and sits back down in his old chair, looking up at McGee.
"Director.. Vance, retired 8 years ago." He pauses, letting Gibbs absorb that information. "After Vance left, his second-in-command took over. Four years later, that director was assassinated.." He trails off, and looks at Gibbs' inquisitive expression. "Four years ago, I became director of NCIS."
A long pause, coupled with an incredulous stare, is what follows.
"..You what?"