"Wake up, McGee."

Years of training makes Tim automatically do what Gibbs commands. His blurry eyes open and he slowly takes in the scene his mind is coming into.

He apparently fell asleep at his desk if the crick in his neck indicates anything. Tony and Ziva are absent from their desks and probably went home hours ago. Darkness has spread outside on the window pane and all that illuminates the office are a scattering of overhead lights and Gibbs' desk lamp.

Glancing at Gibbs' desk lamp makes Tim notice the activity at Gibbs' desk. His boss is awkwardly trying to put his jacket on, which is difficult to do when one of those arms is in a sling.

Instead of saying anything, Tim rubs his eyes and gets his own stuff together. He learned quickly that he can help Gibbs by providing rides and running errands for the man, but Gibbs has limits when it comes to jackets and putting them on.

"Ready?" Tim asks when he sees Gibbs settled into his jacket and turning off the lamp. Tim reaches into his pocket and he's slightly confused when he doesn't hear the familiar metal rattle.

"Yep," Gibbs replied and holds up the missing keys. "I'm driving."

Tim blinks his eyes hard to try to clear his head. He isn't really sure this is how this conversation is supposed to go. "Uh, Boss. I thought I was driving."

"No, I am."

"But you can't. Your arm is…" Tim trailed off. He's been making a point at not pointing out the obvious in front of Gibbs. It usually results in a Gibbs-like eye roll where his whole head moves with the eyes and gives an exasperated and non-verbal 'duh.'

Like the one Gibbs gives him now. "I've got the one arm, McGee. Don't need two to drive a manual."

Gibbs walks towards the elevator but turns back when Tim isn't following him. "You're exhausted, Tim. I'm taking you home. Come on."

The use of his first name dazes him a little, but he follows Gibbs into the elevator. He watches in confusion when Gibbs leans over and turns off the power.

"Is that really necessary? I mean, it's like ten o'clock and there's really no one a-"

Tim is immediately prompted to 'shut up' as Gibbs so eloquently communicates with a tilt of his head.

"Shutting up, Boss."

Gibbs stares him down for a few seconds as he tries to collect the right words to say. Having no room to go, Tim lets him.
"You don't owe me, McGee."

"You saved my life," he answers back.

"It's my job!" Direct, dictated, and honest. The way Gibbs says these words also describes the man saying them. "It's my job as team leader to keep you safe."

Tim's words are hushed, as a calm air going against a storm. "You risked your life to save mine. I can't just let that go."

"Well, you're going to have to. I am not going risk your health, or your life, for some pointless thought that you need to redeem yourself." His eyes soften slightly. "You owe me nothing."

The moment passes and Gibbs softly sighs before turning away and standing next to Tim like they were going down. It would seem normal, except they aren't moving anywhere.

"It's not just my life."

Tim pauses and waits. Gibbs doesn't say or do anything in response, so he continues. "It's…everything. My life, my job, it's all this," Tim waves his hand around the empty space of the elevator. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you."

The head slap was hard but expected. Tim rubs the back of his head and looks at his boss.

Gibbs stares back. "Where you are is because of who you are. You tell your own story, Tim. Don't let anyone say otherwise."

The words strike Tim harder than the head slap ever could.

Aunt Ruth and the cards told him his story, but that story is twenty years old. His aunt's bones have long turned to sand and he's so very tired right now.

Maybe Aunt Ruth was right.

Or maybe Gibbs is right. He and his rules are never wrong.

Maybe it didn't matter.

Maybe he was already dead.

He finds it odd that it is at this point, after ten years of waiting, is when he breaks. It's neither in the desert nor under grey clouds.

It's in the darkness of a muggy elevator, with Gibbs standing sentinel.

Restless exhaustion

Fear, expectation, pain, liberation

Sand in his skin

Everything Tim ever feels finally breaks down.