This part was designed to be read independently, or after any of the preceding numbers.

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No More Secrets


I was sitting on a backwards chair, arms folded across the backrest. It was a favored position of Tim Drake, but one that McGee did not indulge in.

"Something you wanna tell us, McGee?" Gibbs prompted after I'd sat in silence for a while.

"Fine," I sighed. I didn't want to, but they had to know. They had the right to know. "I was born and raised in Gotham. And, as everyone knows, that's not…the safest. But it's better than it was, because there're heroes."

"I thought there were no heores in Gotham?" Ziva asked, and I bit back a smile to hear the old excuse.

"Well," I said. "I don't know if you could call us heroes."

"But what—" Tony stared, but I interrupted.

"Just listen, okay? So some sidekicks are bright and attention-getting. They're a distraction, and...their partner is the power. It's a good team, and it works, mostly.

"But what a lot of people don't know is that sometimes, there has be more than one sidekick. It's a dangerous profession, and they're young, and attention-getting, see? So there have been a few.

"And I was one."

There was silence, and then Tony snorted. "Sorry," he said, and, "Nope, not buying it. No way McGeek here was a vigilante."

"Tim McGee, wasn't, no," I replied, mild as milk. "But then, I haven't always been McGee. It's just a name."

There is a slight pause as everyone pretends not to have heard that bitter statement and then Ziva changes the topic.

"So that Red Hood, he is a vigilante you know?" she asked.

"No, Jason was a R...he worked with the same mentor I did. Right before me, actually. He died, kind of, and came back a little bit mad."

"Right, of course," Tony bit off sarcastically. "He came back from the dead, yeah. This isn't a movie or a comic book, McGee. This is real life, and the dead don't come back."

"You think I don't know that?" I exploded, surging to my feet. I could normally keep a lid on my temper, but not that topic, not then. "You have no right to talk to me about death. No. Right. You have no idea."

And there was silence, before Gibbs, almost gently—almost—said, "Who did you lose, Tim?"

I sunk back into the chair, wanting to laugh. Who haven't I lost? But if I started laughing now, I knew I wouldn't stop. "My mother," I said, going in chronological order. "My father, my step-mother, the love of my life. Jason, twice. Kate. And…and Br—my mentor. And so many innocents and civilians that we were too slow to save." I began that laundry list, and, once started, couldn't stop. Disaster, casualty count. Disaster, casualty count; disaster….

No Man's Land. Central City. The war games. The Riots. The thing with Hush. Joker's Parade. Arkham breakouts, all three times. The Blackgate breakout, and subsequent massacre. Arkham breakouts, times four, five, and six. And so many more.

I ran out of anger before I ran out of names, so I cut off the list early and wrapped it up tiredly. "So don't you talk to me about death. Don't you talk to me about sacrifice, or family or duty or honor. Don't you even dare."

And Tony looked away, and I felt a stab of guilt and shame. I kept forgetting; Tony isn't Dick. Tony feared loss because he hasn't dealt with it often. I feared it because I knew it far too well.

"Sorry," I mumbled. "I shouldn't have gone off like that…"

Ziva looked at me with sad, knowing eyes, and I couldn't meet that gaze. Gibbs drew my attention by saying quietly, "That's a lot to hold yourself responsible for."

And, yeah, that was funny, because I knew that, I did, but my list is still shorter than either Dick's or Bruce's. "I know," I said, dragging a hand through my hair and down my face. "Would you believe I'm the sanest one of us?"

No one answered, until Gibbs finally asked, "Why'd you leave?"

"Oh, that," I said. "I was…I was caught by a bad guy. A really bad guy. It only took them about two weeks to find me. It was right after my dad died, and Stephanie, and I just... I didn't tell him anything, but…I didn't come out entirely sane, either. And I realized how crazy it all really was. So I ran."

And I stared at the floor, because I respected these people too much to want to see pity in their eyes.

"So now you know. And now you know that I can do a lot more to help, to protect you guys, than you thought. And why I wanted so bad to be a field agent, but don't like drawing a gun. There's a lot more I can do, now that I don't have to hide so much.

"So now you know." And I paused to swallow. "Will this change anything?"

"Not if you don't want it to," Gibbs said, and I chanced a glance up from the floor, because we all knew he was lying.

"Yes, it will," Ziva broke in. "Now, we can help. If you let us."

And Tony met my searching gaze, and he didn't say a word. This would take time for him, I knew, but I was prepared to wait. He did nod, though, and I knew I was forgiven my outburst earlier, and maybe even gained a little more respect from him. Maybe this would work out all right.

"And perhaps we can spar, sometime," Ziva continued, and I smiled.

I ducked my head in agreement, and said, "Sure. And maybe practice languages, too."

She beamed back, and I swallowed the lump in my throat, the ball of hysterics and unshed tears. Tony left the room, to get air, to think, and Gibbs was looking at me in a new way.

Yeah, you know what? I think it might just be okay, after all.


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It's so cute how you guys think I'm done~

See you soon for: That One Time He Took On A Vigilante Apprentice (But Only Kind Of)