Tim heard the knock on his door and abandoned his typewriter.
— Coming !
He took a quick look at himself, wondering why he had put that white, large t-shirt on…well, it wouldn't matter for a delivery boy, would it. He opened the lock and did the same with the door.
— 'Evening…he lowly said, diving a hand in his pocket, looking for twenty dollars. Wait, you're not the delivery boy…he finally mumbled, noticing the man in front of him.
— I'm not, his new guest chuckled.
— Gibbs…Tim sighed and now revealed a bored facial expression to his boss, still standing where he was. What are you doing here ?
— Why ? You're waiting for someone important ? Jethro briefly grinned, glancing at Tim's t-shirt.
— I guess not…
Tim reluctantly invited Gibbs to come in, closing the door after him once he had fully entered the apartment…he didn't want to talk to him tonight…nor ever.
— What's wrong, Tim ? Gibbs finally asked.
— Beside the fact that I almost died, you mean ?
Jethro unexpectedly took a seat and pointed a finger at another one, Tim now sensing it would be a very serious conversation.
Gibbs had never really been the kind of 'sitting-guy' type, so that was probably a bad sign.
— I know, McGee, he continued. But that's not the first time, is it ?
Tim swallowed with difficulty but didn't even try commenting, knowing deep down how rude this question could be…but still so true… Well, you couldn't really get used to face death everyday, but it would still seem a bit hypocrite as well saying it had been the very first time of his life.
— I've seen you react in different ways when it happened, McGee. Shocked, silent, a bit scared…
— Well, then I'm not that different, now, because I'm a bit scared, too, at the moment, Tim ironically chuckled.
— Really, McGee ? Are you ? Because I don't see any of these reactions. I only see anger.
— Oh, because you think I shouldn't be angry ? What, should I only accept my faith and think that it's maybe gonna be better next time ?
Gibbs shook his head and took a deep look at his agent, rubbing his legs.
— I just wish you could talk to us, McGee…
— Yeah, like you can…Tim suddenly interrupted himself, another knock against the door waiting for an answer. I… I have to open it, he strangely mumbled.
— Go.
'Saved by the gong' Tim thought, now facing the one he'd been waiting for so long.
— Large Savage with extra cheese, no mushrooms…and additional meatballs, for Tim McGee, the man read the note he had between fingers, raising the pizza in his direction. Oh, and we forgot telling you you could also get a free drink…he added, diving both hands in his big bag, I have, uh…coke, lemonade, sparkling water, and…
— Any beers ? Gibbs suddenly asked from behind, approaching the duet.
— Uh…hi, yeah…well, you can ask for one beer, but…
— Make them two, Jethro calmly ordered, I'll pay the rest.
— Wait, no, Gibbs…
But the delivery man was already grabbing two beers from his bag, probably very bad quality ones, giving them to Gibbs.
— Okay…he briefly smiled, so here is what needs to be paid…okay…thank you, have a nice evening, guys.
Tim watched the boy leave the corridor and then slowly pushed the door, angry as hell. He definitely should have said something…but would Gibbs had even listened to him ?
— 'Guys'… Gibbs smiled and walked back to his chair, approaching it now near a table.
He opened one of the beers and raised it in the new, silent McGee's direction. His agent then wrapped his hand around the bottle, not really willing to drink this for diner…before he realized he might not refuse a little liquid help.
— What do you think you're doing, Gibbs ! Tim attacked anyway, feeling his voice getting higher than before, the same as earlier at NCIS.
— No, Jethro shook his head, no change of subject. You were about to say something.
— Yeah, forget it, Tim immediately sighed and sat down, taking a big sip of his drink.
Gibbs suddenly grabbed the pizza from Tim's hand and put it away from him.
— Okay, you want me to talk, McGee ? I was scared, alright ? It only happened three days ago, and I already feel like it was months ago…and why that ? Because I still cannot believe that it happened to you.
McGee immediately stood up from his chair and drank a bit more of his drink, already exhausted by the conversation. Gibbs was never the one talking about feelings…and now that he was finally doing it, he already wanted him to stop. All of this was premeditated, as usual, 'cause Gibbs was certainly not like that.
Tim rubbed his face and tried not looking straight at his boss, only fighting alone his own thoughts from the inside…Jethro noticed the strange process and reflexively stopped his dramatic speech, waiting for his agent to spit it out.
— I don't understand, boss ! I'm so angry, because…I don't understand ! I mean, every time we face death…I do not pretend knowing personally any of the criminals we're tracking down, boss, but when the confrontation day happens, I am one of them…
— What do you mean, McGee ?
— I am one member of the team, raising my gun in front of a criminal… I…he tried finding his words. If someone then tries shooting me in the face, or anywhere else, that's because he directly sees me, threatening him with my badge and weapon, and…
Gibbs stared at his agent with sad eyes, although he really tried not showing it. All he wanted was Tim to keep talking.
— I'm not perfect, boss, he calmed down a little, but I do understand you when you tell me you follow your guts…today, I am the one doing it, and boss…I do not know if Prescott is the one responsible, or anyone else…but I'm pretty sure that I don't know who's doing this to me. I do not know Prescott, nor ever heard of Linkers… I made some researches, boss, thinking that they might have known my father in the past, that he might have arrested them, or… But I'm pretty sure you already did your own researches. Boss...he desperately continued, I don't know these men, and my father didn't know them either, so the only thing to think would be that it must be a vengeance…against NCIS, about all of us, about Director Vance, maybe, thing is that I have no damn idea, but this is…
Tim felt the hand on his shoulder, and the tears ready to escape from his eyes. He tired holding them back but couldn't repress a slight trembling all along his body, confidences relaxing, somehow, his tired nerves.
— It's…it's killing me, boss.
Gibbs discreetly nodded and waited a bit more for something next to be said...
Tim wasn't over, and he knew it…and he was right.
— I always think…but that's stupid…
— Tell me, McGee.
— Every time, when it's gun against gun, if I can put it that way…he sighed, I just feel that they know what they do. One shot in the heart, or the face…it's scary to thinking about it, but then it's over, boss. But with that explosion…I don't know, I just felt…if the bomb had not been settled properly, or if it had exploded at a different moment, when I was not completely in, or out of the car, yeah, like the other night…truth is, boss, that I could have survived in so many different ways…
— And that wouldn't be a good thing, McGee ? Gibbs lowly asked.
— I could have lost a leg…both arms, my brain's capacity…
Now he was getting to the point.
Gibbs bit his lips and worriedly looked at his agent. He definitely knew what he would say next...
— I could have lost my ability to work, boss…and if this has to be the case, then…well, then I prefer not being alive.
Tim sat down again and looked at what should be now an almost cold pizza.
— I know that's a bit sad to say, but that's how it is, boss...this job is all I have.
Tim finished drinking and tried not looking too much at Gibbs' eyes for a minute, feeling physically, and now psychologically tired, if not exhausted…
— I...I'm gonna rest a bit, now, boss, he finally said after some time, feeling the energy leave his body and soul, Jethro simply nodding and starting moving to give him some space…when his phone suddenly begun ringing inside the room.
— Abby ?
— Gibbs, she loudly exclaimed, I'm pretty sure Prescott is the one who placed the bomb in McGee's car !
— How, Abbs ?
— Well, remember we'd seen Prescott walk around NCIS, days before it happened ?
Gibbs nodded at the invisible, briefly gazing into Tim.
— One of the wires was hidden inside the handle…but you already get that, right ? she interrupted her explanation. Anyway, I realized there was a timer inside the bomb.
— And ?
— And it matches with the day Prescott has been seen near NCIS. He programmed the bomb to be ready to explode after a specific amount of days…exactly the same number of days since he last came ! So the bomb was now officially engaged from that other night, or at least from earlier on that date, and the next time Tim would have pressed that handle…
— He needed some time in between, to create panic when we didn't expect it.
— Gibbs, is that security guy outside still protecting McGee ? Abby checked. Because this whole story is just freaking me out !
— He is, Abbs, he slightly smiled at the choice of words.
Jethro hung up the phone and suddenly walked to the exit of Tim's apartment.
— Wait, what's going on, boss ? Tim held back a small yawn.
— We know it's Prescott, he explained, not really knowing if it would sound positive or not in Tim's ears. Sleep well, McGee, tomorrow I need you to be perfectly awake to keep working.
Tim briefly nodded and tried retorting anything, but finally only watched Gibbs leave with no more details, knowing Vance would kill him if he was coming back tonight…he was so tired anyway.
He heard the door close and took a despising look at that white, large t-shirt he was usually enjoying wearing…and then walked to the table, where the pizza and Gibbs' bottle of beer were still waiting for someone to grab them… Gibbs had let it completely closed.
Tim opened it and finally begun drinking again, strangely staring at its now completely cold pizza, wondering why he wasn't feeling better at all… Well, truth was that he was now even angrier than before.
Yes, he now had the proof that Prescott had been the one intending to kill him...and he was now definitely certain that he didn't know him at all.
