THANKS TO: GOTTAHAVEMYNCIS, EXTRAORDINARYGEEK, JACKSAM, LSMCFAN, MYSTERYFAN15, MAUDLIN MUSH, KILLERBEE06, SUMNUMB3RS, 68LUVCARTER, CAMRY72, FINDINGHERO, CHEETHER, KELETH, MISSYAN, JAZZIEG, CROCADILE1986, STARJEMS88, DS2010, MOONLIGHT HUNTER, NY05016SC, AND HERMIONE'S SHADOW
FOR THEIR REVIEWS FOR CHAPTERS 7&8
DISCLAIMER:I DON'T OWN ANYTHING!
-NCIS-
Gibbs waited until the doors had closed and the had pulled the emergency stop before he turned to glare at the other two occupants of the little silver box.
"How.." He started. "What..." He stopped again, still to furious to continue. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself so he could talk, but the more he thought about all that Abby had revealed, the angrier he became.
Tim was getting anxious. He knew that this was not a good sign. He'd never known a time when his father had ever been to mad to yell.
"Why?" Gibbs finally managed to get out, his tone cold and furious. "Please tell me why you would do this!"
"I did tell you!" She exclaimed sullenly, her pretty face tear stained, her mascara leaving a trail down her cheeks. "It was just a game!"
Gibbs scoffed. "Some game." He stalked forward, pressing her back against the elevator wall. "What would you have done if you found out information that was true! What would you have done if you found out that someone was using drugs,Abby? What would you have done if you found out that someone was drinking on the job? What would you have done then, Abby?"
"I—I would have t-t-old." She stuttered out.
"Are you sure about that?" He ground out. "Even if you could have lost your job? Even if you could be brought up on criminal charges?"
"Y—Yes?" It came out as a question.
"Oh, really?" He asked sceptically. "What if someone was on prescription pain medicine,Abby? What if it was in his file but no one else knew about it? What if someone had taken a cough medicine with alcohol in it? What would you have done then? What if you had blurted it out in front of the whole bullpen like you did with me and Tim, and it was something like I just said or a mistake?" Gibbs voice got really quiet, which was more disturbing then when he yelled. "What would you do then, Abby? You couldn't take it back. You couldn't unsay it once it's been said." Gibbs stood back to give her room, knowing his point had been made. "Do you have any idea the damage you could do with that kind of information?" Gibbs gave her a hard look. "What would you do if it was too late for damage control? What if the damage had already been done?"
Tim noticed sadly that his father didn't say anything about how she had treated him. But he hadn't expected anything different. Hoped, maybe. Expected, no.
Abby blinked. She finally understood what Tim had been trying to tell her all this time. It didn't matter what the truth was, all they would see was what they wanted to see. She turned stricken eyes to Tim. She had been so unfair to him, and not for the first time.
"Tim..." She whispered regretfully.
Tim shook his head, not wanting to get into anything with Gibbs present.
Gibbs reached and turned the elevator back on, pressing the button for the floor to Abby's lab. They rode in silence until the elevator doors opened. Tim tried to follow Abby out of the elevator, intending to take the stairs back, but Gibbs stopped him.
"I'm not done with you yet, McGee!" He barked out.
Tim stopped and let the doors close, Gibbs reaching over again to press the emergency stop.
Tim turned to face Gibbs and found him already invading his personal space.
"You want to tell me how you knew about Abby's 'game' and did nothing to stop it?"
Tim took a step back, hoping to put space between himself and the furious man. "I—I-I tried, Boss." He stuttered.
"You didn't try hard enough!"
"B—B-But I did, Boss! She just wouldn't stop! She wouldn't listen!"
Gibbs stalked forward, forcing Tim to walk backwards until his back was against the elevators closed silver doors. "Then you should have come to me!"
McGee's response surprised Gibbs. He started laughing harshly.
"Why would I come to you?" He sneered between harsh laughs. "When have I ever came to you? For anything?"
Gibbs stepped back, shocked, at the bitterness in his tone.
"Tim,..."
Tim held a hand out, stopping him. "You know, never mind. Let's just get this over with, shall we? It's all my fault, okay.? You're right. I should have stopped Abby. It's my fault that she wouldn't listen! It's my fault that she played that blasted 'game'! It's my fault she that she broke into my apartment! It's my fault that she told the whole damn place that I was your son! It's all my fault!" Tim stopped, breathing hard.
"I accept full blame." He said after his breathing had returned to normal. "Now can we go back to work?" Tim reached sideways and pushed the emergency button in, starting the elevator and returning it to the bullpen. Tim stayed with his back to the doors until they opened, staring at Gibbs. When the doors opened he turned and walked to his desk. His hands were vibrating with anger. Anger at Abby for not keeping his mouth shut. Anger at Tony for always having to clown around. Anger at everyone for laughing. Anger at Gibbs for always blaming him for things that aren't his fault, always blaming him for others' decisions. But there was also the hurt he refused to think about here. He knew he should feel relieved, too. They were safe for now. He had a reprieve. He didn't have to leave yet. He should be happy. He got what he wanted. He finally knew how they would react to his secret. They laughed. Tim felt his heart break just a little bit more; another crack added to the ones already there. He couldn't help but wonder how many more cracks he could take, how many more cruel words that hit like fists, how many more unkind jokes that felt like a jab in the gut could he take before his already cracked heart shattered completely?
Ziva watched as Tim left the elevator and walked angrily to his desk, Gibbs following slowly behind him to his own desk. Beneath the anger she could see hurt and sadness. She felt bad because she believed that she was partly the cause of it, as they all were. Ziva wanted to give Abby a good shake and Tony something more then a head-slap for their parts in hurting her friend, but mostly she was angry at her self. She knew how sensitive he was, how deeply he felt things. She should not have laughed. She knew it was the wrong thing to do as soon as she had done it. She was just so relieved that he wasn't quitting that she hadn't really been thinking how it would look, how Tim would take it. She would give anything to be able to take it back.
Tony covertly watched his Probie's rigid back as he kicked his self for his little comment. He knew he should say something. He knew he should apologize. He just didn't know how too. He wasn't good at anything invovling deep emotion. He just didn't have the words to tell McGee how sorry he was. He didn't have the words to tell him that he hadn't meant to hurt him, that his jokes were never designed to hurt anyone. Tony made a silent promise to make a better effort to show McGee how important he was to him—as a partner, as a friend, as a brother. He could do better by McGee. He would do better.
-NCIS-
Sarah let herself into Tim's apartment and took off Jethro's leash, putting it in the basket beside the door and shooing Jethro to his bed. She walked to the bedroom and put her bright purple backpack and black leather shoulder bag beside the bed and went to the small dresser that Tim kept for her use, taking out some clothes. Sarah changed from her dark wash jeans and pale pink, silk, short sleeve blouse with the pearl buttons into a pair of dark lavender yoga pants and a lighter lavender cotton tank top, stuffing her feet into a pair of medium brown dog slippers with black on the edge of the ears. They were another birthday present from her brother. Sarah thought that they kind of looked like Jethro, but Tim had had a fit when she'd said so. She took her long, dark brown hair out of the ponytail she had worn all day, leaving it hanging loose down her back.
Sarah walked into the kitchen, Jethro following her. After filling Jethro's food and water bowls she put on her apron, red with a brown neck, a ruffled brown hem and brown ties, she wound the ties twice around her slim waist and tied them in a bow in front. Sarah got the potatoes out of the pantry and got to work on supper. She wanted to do something nice for her brother. He'd seemed a little off this morning. Sarah hoped that showing him someone cared might make him feel a bit better. She planned his favorite meal and a quiet evening watching his favorite movie—Star Wars. Personally, Sarah hated Tim's favorite meal and his favorite movie, but she loved her brother, even if, at times, she acted like a brat, as she had when she had insulted Tim to Agent Gibbs. She'd felt awful about that for months afterward, even though she had gone immediately to her brother and confessed, earning his forgiveness.
Sarah quickly peeled the potatoes and washed them along with some carrots, slicing both into big chunks. She put them around the roast she had already washed and put into a pan, adding seasoning. She slipped the glass dish into the already pre-heated oven. Next, she got out flour, spices and a can of cherry pie filling. She rolled out the pie crust and added the cherry filling, putting the pie to bake in the oven beside their supper. She left the food to cook and went to the bedroom closet to get Tim's airbed out and inflated it beside his big, king-size bed, so that it would be ready for Tim to stretch out on and watch the movie. Maybe he would fall asleep early and get a good night's sleep.
Sarah sighed as she folded back Tim's hunter green comforter and pale green top sheet. She missed living with her brother, even though it had been her idea to live in the dorm. She missed the roomy two-bedroom with the big, airy rooms, that they had first lived in when they had first come from Norfolk. She truly regretted Tim giving it up, but she understood why he did it. The same reason he saved most of his money,beyond a few splurges for him and her tuition and the allowance he gave her so she didn't have to work. They weren't poor—actually Tim had amassed quite a lot, with his federal paycheck and his book royalties—but they had been once and the memory of it was still fresh—of there never being enough money. Never enough money for utilities, clothes, food—the memory of when hunger gnawed holes in their stomachs and they were so cold that they couldn't remember what warm felt like. Tim and Sarah had learned early in life that not all parents took care of their children like they were supposed to. They had learned very early that not all parents provided a safe environment for their children to grow up in. They had learned, before anything else, that not all parents loved their children.
The memories still haunt Tim, of no matter how hard he worked, and Tim had worked hard, even when Sarah was still a baby and Tim was just a boy his self, there was never enough money for everything they needed. That was why Tim saved as much as he could, why he lived in a small, four floor walk up. Because he feared it happening again.
Sarah walked into the bathroom and got out her cleaning supplies. She still cleaned her brother's apartment, even if she didn't really live with him anymore. Tim worked such long hours that he didn't have much free time, and she didn't want him spending it doing something she was more than capable of doing. Besides, Tim wasn't really a messy person and she liked doing it. He certainly did enough for her.
Sarah had finished her small amount of cleaning and was in the kitchen sitting the table when she heard her brother's key in the lock.
Sarah heard Jethro get up from his bed beside Tim's desk in the living room and go to the door so he could greet her brother when he came in. She knew something was wrong when she heard Tim push his dog away and ordered him in a harsh voice, to go lay down. She got even more uneasy when he came into the kitchen and went straight to the cupboard over the sink without even greeting her. She became alarmed when he took out a bottle of whiskey she didn't know was there and poured him a glass.
She watched in shock as he downed it, refilled his glass, downed that and refilled his glass yet again. Tim never drank hard liquor—never drank more than the occasional glass of wine, refused to even take sleeping pills or prescription pain pills—Tim didn't like anything that took away his control. What would happen if Sarah needed him and his mind was clouded with alcohol or medication?
Sarah walked a little closer to her brother, worried for him. "Tim?" She asked hesitantly. "Is there—what's wrong,Tim?" Tim swung around and Sarah's fear grew even more when she saw the utter devastation on her brother's face.
"Please tell me what's wrong,Tim." She said gently, as she would to a wounded animal.
For a moment a look of such intense hurt and sadness came across his face that made her heart ache, then his face cleared and he smiled. Or at least he tried to. It was more of a grimace then a smile.
"There's nothing wrong,Sarah."
She gave him a look that clearly said she knew better.
Tim sighed and ran his free hand through his dirty blond hair. He took a long drink of the whiskey, welcoming the fiery trail it made down his throat to his empty stomach; he hadn't been able to eat lunch, every bite he took tasted like sawdust. "I'm—tired, Sarah." He finally said when Sarah kept looking at him expectantly. "That's all. I'm just tired."
Sarah had a feeling that the kind of tired that he was talking about wouldn't be cured with a good night's sleep.
Tim finished his whiskey and poured a fourth glass. He was fast on the road to getting drunk, but he didn't care. He wanted to get drunk. He wanted to cloud his mind. He hoped it would take his pain away—just for tonight. Tomorrow he would be strong. Tomorrow he would be able to handle it, but tonight he just wanted to forget. There was nothing wrong with that, right? To want a little peace?
"Please tell me what's wrong. Please." Sarah begged. "Please." She watched him guzzle his glass of whiskey and reach to pour another. She hurried over to him and put her hand on his arm to stop him. "You're scaring me, Tim." She told him, the fear evident in her voice.
Tim let his chin drop to his chest, sitting the whiskey bottle back on the counter. " I went up to Vance's office almost as soon as I got there, but I couldn't quit. I don't know why. I just couldn't. When I got back down, everyone was there and Abby—Abby told, Sarah. She blurted it out in front of everyone. She told them that it was a mistake almost right after, but for a moment..." He trailed off.
Sarah was shocked. "What—What happened, Tim?"
Tim angrily shrugged off her hand and picked up the bottle to pour him so more whiskey. "They laughed. All of them. They laughed." He swallowed the drink down without stopping. "They all laughed at me."
Sarah's heart ached. She now understood why her brother looked so broken.
"I wondered what it would be like if they knew the truth. Part of me wanted them to know." He stopped. "I just wanted them to look at me differently, if only for a minute." He said, finally after a few moments of silence.
Sarah nodded. "You wanted them to see you in another way. You wanted them to see that you could keep secrets hidden as well as Gibbs does. You wanted them to see that you could deceive as efficiently as Ziva does. You wanted them to see that you could act as convincingly as Tony does." Sarah's voice lowered. "You wanted them to see that you're worthy of Gibbs' respect. You wanted them to see that you're worthy of being on Gibbs team. You wanted them to see that you're worthy of being Leroy Jethro Gibbs son." She finished in a small voice. "And they didn't see it."
Tim laughed bitterly. "They not only didn't see, Sarah." He said after a few minutes. "They laughed at even the idea of it!" He finished painfully. "Then Gibbs-," Tim stopped and swallowed thickly. "He blamed me for letting Abby play her 'game'."
Sarah could see that that was the most painful part. Gibbs blaming Tim just twisted the knife they all had stabbed him with. "Oh, Tim..." Sarah said heart-brokenly, wondering how anyone could be so cruel to such a man as her brother, especially people who were supposed to be his friends.
Tim turned away from his sister, not wanting his little sister to see his eyes glistening with tears that he refused to let fall. "Everyday I watch them." Tim cleared his throat. "Everyday I watch how they are with each other. How they look out for each other, how—how" He stopped, blinking back tears again. "How they take care of each other. They're a family. Gibbs' family. Tony's his," he swallowed thickly. "His son. All you have to do is look past all Tony's clowning to see that they are just alike. Gibbs allowed Ziva in almost from the moment she got here. Abby's been his daughter from the very first. Even Jimmy is family through Ducky. And Ducky—well, Ducky has been his family longer then any of them." Despite his best effort a tear slipped down his face. "I want to be a part of that so much, Sarah. To feel what it's like to be a part of his family. To have him, just once, look at me the way he looks at them. I want, just once, for him to show me the care he has always shown them. I want, just once," he stopped, his voice breaking. "for him to call me son the way he called Tony son that one time, with love and pride in his voice." He finished in barely a whisper. "I can't even begin to tell you how much I want that."
Sorrow filled Sarah, not only for Tim, but for the team, too, because they couldn't see what they had in her brother. She knew that, though Tim would never admit it, not even to his self, that he considered them his family, even though they didn't consider him family. That's why he kept going back, despite all the harsh words, cruel jokes and unfair treatment. That's why he couldn't quit. Because they were family. And the only other family Tim has ever had—besides Sarah—was their mother and step-father, and they had treated Tim almost exactly like his team did. Tim accepted that that was just how families were.
Tim rubbed at his eyes and let out a sigh full of despair. "I'm so tired, Sarah." He said, repeating the words he had first said to her. "I' m tired of waiting for things to change, tired of hoping that things will be different. I'm tired of—of hoping." His voice broke. "Hope hurts, Sarah!"
She reached a hand out and squeezed his shoulder. "Tim,..."
Tim shrugged away from her violently. "Leave me alone, Sarah. Please. Just leave me alone."
Sarah watched helplessly as he walked out of the kitchen and into his bedroom. A few minutes later she heard the shower turn on, the falling water loud in the silent apartment. But it still wasn't loud enough to drown out her brother's brokenhearted sobs.
-NCIS-
Tony wasn't sure what he was doing here, still dressed in the blue jeans and burgundy button down he has worn to work that morning, standing outside McGee's apartment. He had tried to go to his own apartment, had actually made it to the parking lot of his apartment building, before turning around and heading to McGee's. He just couldn't get the look on his Probie's face out of his mind. Tony had never seen a look like that on his face before. He couldn't bare to think he was the cause of it.
Tony sighed and raised his hand to knock on Tim's apartment door.
-NCIS-
I WANTED TO ADD MORE TO THE GIBBS AND TIM CONFRONTATION BUT MY IMAGINATION DESERTED ME. SORRY. I HOPE NO ONE'S TO DISAPPOINTED.
