A/N: Two more chapters to go! It took me forever to visualize this. I wanted whumpage but without excessive clichés. I hope Gibbs and McGee's voices are still in character. I would love to hear what you think. Sheila

The Unbearable Lightness of Being McGee

Chapter 10

"You're not going anywhere! I swear to God, Tim! I won't allow it!"

"You're not listening, Jethro!" Tim sat at the edge of his hospital bed in his street clothes. "I can't do this anymore. I'm not staying another day."

"This is stupid!" Gibbs' face was red. "You stay here until your organ systems have strengthened and you live. You go home and you die."

Tim shook his head. His face was gaunt and shadows lived permanently under his tired eyes. "No more. There's nothing left to be done. I have been in and out of this hospital for the last four weeks. I'm not staying another minute."

"Exactly! The mistake has been taking you home. You stay here and you live."

"I stay here and I die!" McGee spat out angrily.

"I don't want to hear that you're giving up. I don't want to hear it." Gibbs folded his arms and looked away.

Tim leaned forward. "Jethro, going home is not giving up. I just want to be with friends and family. I want to see my dog and eat what I want. I want to talk a walk and feel the sun."

Gibbs pointed a finger. "Because you think you're dying. You've given up."

"There's nothing left to do," Tim said in a whisper. "There is no treatment left for me. I have so much transfused blood in me that I'm taking anti-rejection drugs. My body can't handle another invasive procedure. Do you not listen to the doctor when he talks?"

"If you start bleeding again and it doesn't stop, you'll die."

"I know," Tim said softly. "But I'm not staying in a hospital bed waiting for the inevitable."

Gibbs came over and sat beside McGee, turning his face toward him. "I can't lose another person I love, especially not you. I need you to fight."

Tim stroked Jethro's arm. "Going home is not giving up."

Jethro shook his head. "It is to me and I won't allow it."

"I know. Ducky's invited me to stay at his home for the time being."

"No, Tim."

"I'm sorry, Jethro. I can't fight about this anymore. I'm leaving the hospital and I need to be some place where my reasons are understood. I need to rest. I want to be with you, but the expectations you have and all of the fighting takes too much out of me."

Jethro's eyes searched his. "You won't stay here for me."

"And you won't let me leave…for me."

Jethro let go of McGee and shook his head. "I don't know what to say anymore."

"Jethro."

Gibbs stopped at the door and turned around.

Tim took a breath. "I love you as deeply now as I ever have."

"Show me. Stay here, Tim," Jethro said simply. When McGee didn't respond, he shook his head and left.

….

Jethro Gibbs and Ducky Mallard had disagreed from time to time during their many years as friends. In fact, there was a time not so many years ago, when Ducky refused to talk to Jethro as a friend for almost six months. They were both fierce and stubborn men, but their shared beliefs in justice had always trumped their disagreements. Ducky thought about that as they both waited to meet with McGee's doctor. Gibbs sat across from him, refusing to even acknowledge his presence. Ducky knew that if the decision to bring McGee home went bad, he was going to lose the most important friendship he'd ever had.

The doctor opened his door and beckoned them in. Ducky took a seat and waited. Jethro's rage would have to take a front seat. The doctor sat down too, but Gibbs stayed on his feet as if ready to pounce.

"I understand, Mr. Gibbs, that you're upset about Tim's decision to leave the hospital," the doctor said.

"It's irresponsible," Gibbs said sharply. "And I thought I could talk him out of it until I found out that Dr. Mallard is enabling this fool idea by bringing him into his home."

The doctor sighed. "Keeping Tim inpatient makes a lot of sense. However, bringing him home makes even better sense."

Gibbs grimaced. "What the hell does that mean!"

"There's nothing left to do for him, Mr. Gibbs. He can't take another transfusion. He's had too many invasive procedures. Surgeons won't risk another. Dr. Mallard has agreed to administer a liquid diet and medications. He assures me that he can be there with Tim 24 hours a day. Plus, Tim can spend time with friends and family."

"It's not the same as a hospital."

"No, it isn't. But for Tim right now, I would wager that it's a hundred times better than a hospital."

"What!"

Ducky looked at Gibbs. "Jethro, the hospital room is suffocating him. He's trapped. Let him be the man he wants to be."

Gibbs glared at Ducky. "This is what happens to people who have cancer and treatment is stopped. They go home to die. You're sending him home to die, Ducky."

Neither doctor said anything for a moment.

Ducky spoke slowly. "Whatever comes next for Timothy depends on his body, not medical science."

"I'll never forgive you if he dies because of this."

Ducky looked at Gibbs, his grey eyes watering. "And I'll never forgive myself if I deny Timothy this request because I am afraid of angering you."

"You've given up on him. You're sure he's going to die."

Ducky sprang up out of his chair and advanced on Gibbs. "I don't think any such thing! I'm not bringing him home to die; I'm bringing him home to live. God willing, his body will strengthen. I have not given up, Jethro. I just know that the outcome is out of our hands."

All of a sudden, the rage seemed to drain out of Gibbs. He dropped his arms to his side. "He woke my heart, Duck. Can't you understand that?"

Ducky nodded, putting his hands on Jethro's shoulders. " I do. Watching the two of you discover each other has been both beautiful and touching, but you need to let him have the freedom to live as he chooses."

"It feels wrong to me."

"Jethro, you are forever charging up hills. To you, it looks like Timothy is in retreat, but he isn't. He has settled in to wait it out. Surely, you can see that this can be as valuable a maneuver as soldiering on…especially when a man needs to catch his breath."

Jethro pulled away. "Depends on how close the enemy is, Duck. I don't want to fight about this anymore. Take him home. I'll give him space. Stressing him out with my presence will only lead to a bad outcome."

"He still needs you."

Jethro stopped at the door. "Actually, I might be exactly the last thing he needs right now."

….

Jethro Junior lay on his side on the front while Jethro rubbed his belly rhythmically. He'd grown attached to the old shepherd. He was such solemn dog, but so loyal and intelligent. His brown eyes followed Tim everywhere when he was here. In recent weeks, he'd noticed that the dog's eyes followed him now too. He enjoyed clipping on the leash and seeing the dog spring to life, panting and tail wagging. He liked walking down the street with this majestic beast. He liked it when Junior ignored other dogs who leapt at their gates as they passed, barking frantically. He felt proud whenever someone stopped to ask where he got such a beautiful animal. Most of all, he loved watching Junior settle on the couch against McGee's thigh in the evening, sighing his contentment every few minutes. McGee was forever reaching over to massage an ear or scratch him under his chin.

When DiNozzo pulled up in front of the house, Gibbs knew he was coming for the dog. Gibbs got up slowly and headed in to gather up his food, leash, and bones. When he got back, Tony was sitting on the porch, scratching Junior's ears absently. He looked up. "I wish you'd bring the dog over to Ducky's yourself."

Gibbs sat down on the steps. "Not ready to, I guess."

"McGee needs you, Boss."

"Yeah, Tony…I need him too. How is he?"

"Ducky says he had a good day. I left him sitting on the back porch on the swing. He doesn't do much; he just sort of stares at the garden most of the time. Everyone's been there today. Lila McGee is sleeping there. She fusses in the kitchen making things he can't eat, but it keeps her busy. Abby wanted to come over here and drag you out of your house, but I told her that you needed space."

Gibbs chuckled. "Thanks for that."

Tony studied him. "You worried he's dying."

Gibbs closed his eyes. "I'm pushing too hard, expecting too much. I'm too afraid to be much use to him right now."

"That's weird, you know. You need him and he needs you, but neither one of you is going to do a damn thing about it."

"Did you ever feel like you were with somebody who deserved better than you were capable of giving?"

Tony looked up at the sky and groaned. "Are you kidding? Why do you think I'm not married? The minute I fall in love, I know I'll disappoint them. I know they deserve better. It's a frickin' Catch-22."

"Well, I think I might have you beat when it comes to being a bastard."

"McGee knows who you are. He accepts all of it. He makes you a better man."

Gibbs stared at him. "I'm sorry I asked."

Tony licked his lip. "Got it, Boss."

"Did you talk to Fornell about any more internet chatter?"

"He says that talk about McGee has calmed considerably. In fact, it has sort of dropped off a cliff."

Gibbs looked at him sharply. "That abruptly, huh?"

"Fornell says he sees it happen this way sometimes before there's some kind of strike."

"Does he think its McGee?"

Tony shrugged. "We talked about it for awhile. I just don't see McGee as that important of a target. If I want to bomb something, I want to do the most damage. Maybe, I go on one of the battleships they use for tours, and see how many civilians I could take out."

"I see what you mean, but there's something about McGee that keeps me worried. He's a symbol of American patriotism. He's the brave, young soldier willing to die for his country. His selflessness going into that containment chamber overshadowed Wallace's act."

"He's not a soldier though. He's a cop."

Gibbs shook his head. "Nothing I read makes that distinction. So far, the media has respected Sec Nav's request to stay back, but that hasn't stopped the editorials or the commentaries. America needs a hero right now."

Tony screwed up his face. "McGee would hate to be in the spotlight like that."

"Yeah, he would. But if he makes it to the awards ceremony Sec Nav plans to have in two months, he might not have a choice. If domestic terrorists hate him now, they'll be rabid for him then."

"We got to get those bastards."

Gibbs got up and handed DiNozzo the bag with his stuff. "Better take Junior now. I want Tim to be able to spend time with him before he falls asleep tonight. The dog's been missing him."

Tony looked at him for a long moment but said nothing. He took the bag and tugged on the leash. The dog followed for a few steps and then stopped, looking back at Gibbs. He gave a small whimper.

"Go on now!" Gibbs shooed him.

The dog stopped pulling and reluctantly followed Tony down the walk.

…..

It was two days later during the time of day when the sky turns to dusk that Jethro Gibbs finally walked onto Ducky's property. He didn't climb the front porch. Instead, he walked around the house, admiring the flowers Ducky nurtured so tirelessly. The back of Ducky's property bordered on a nature preserve. The pink sky melted into the reeds of the swamp nestled in the preserve with herons calling out to a background of the gentle motoring sounds of insects and frogs.

He could see the back of McGee's head in an Adirondack chair looking out on the swamp. There was a dark head in the chair beside his, and at first, he thought it was Ziva, but then Sarah McGee popped her head up and spotted him. She said something to Tim and then rounded the chair, heading toward him. He remembered Sarah as a rather fierce customer, and anticipated some anger at his abandonment of her brother, but he was surprised when she sailed into his arms and kissed him on the cheek. "He's been waiting for you," she said as she disengaged and headed up toward the house.

Gibbs swallowed his fear as he approached the chairs. McGee looked up at him, watching as he sat down in the empty chair. Jethro cleared his throat. "I came to check on you."

"I'm doing okay."

"Pain?" Gibbs was surprised to see that the circles under Tim's eyes had faded considerably.

"Some. I don't panic though. I take a pill and wait it out."

"Been back to the hospital?"

McGee stiffened. "No need to go."

Jethro nodded. "Where's Junior?"

Tim smiled. "He took off after a porcupine yesterday. Vet had to pull out 8 quills. He's resting inside with a swollen nose and a bruised ego."

"Your mother came to visit me at work today."

Tim's smile faded. "I wondered where she went earlier. You must be under orders to be here."

"No, there were no orders. She just wanted to update me on your progress. It was…a kind thing to do."

"I haven't given up."

"I can see that, Timmy."

McGee relaxed at the use of his pet name. "I missed you."

Jethro took McGee's hand and brought the back of it to his mouth. He kissed it lightly. "I love you very much."

McGee bit his lip and nodded.

"I think I burned out a little. I let the fear take over."

"You had to deal with so much, Jethro."

He shook his head. "Don't be too generous, Tim. I might be stressed, but some of this is who I am. I push. My expectations for people are astronomically high. I'm impatient, angry. You know this from working with me, but it's often who I am personally too. In some ways, I suppose the honeymoon is over and the real Leroy Jethro Gibbs is left standing."

"I see," Tim said, nodding slowly. "Is this supposed to scare me away? Is it designed to test me to see if I'll hang in there? Or are you pushing me away because I got too close?"

"I don't know," he said, staring out at the fading sunset. "My own motivations are not always clear to me."

Tim sighed impatiently. "Then what the hell are you doing here?"

Jethro looked down at the grass. "You bring me happiness and love, Timmy. I want that. I want you. Yet none of that stops me from being the world's most notorious saboteur of relationships. I don't trust myself."

Tim got up slowly, weakness still apparent in his limbs. Then he knelt down in front of Gibbs, running his hands up the outsides of his thighs. "Look at me, Jethro."

The worried blue eyes fixed on him.

"We belong together. We both know that. I can see it in your eyes when you look at me. What we have is impossible to define. It's unique and it's special and it's beautiful. And it's more than just sexual attraction. We're good for one another. I'm what you need and you're what I need. Do you hear me?"

"Am I really good for you?" Jethro whispered.

Tim's eyes seemed luminescent against the setting sun. "You're scared and you're tired, and you've let demons take hold inside you. These demons want you to close down again. They want you to run away from love because it's all consuming. It brings you joy and it brings you pain. It's never neutral. Maybe going back to being lonely is safer…more comfortable for you. I don't know. All I know is that I can't fight these demons for you. You have to decide if you can do this."

"I thought I was supposed to be the wise one."

Tim leaned his forehead against Jethro's knee and closed his eyes. Jethro reached over and pulled McGee to his feet. He stood up with him and held him tightly. For a while, neither of them moved. Then Tim whispered. " Go home, Jethro, until you're ready to be with me."

When Jethro stepped away, he turned and said, "I'm not sure I'm the person you deserve."

Tim shook his head and went back to his chair.

…

She was angry. She knew the importance of anger. Her daddy had always told that righteous anger had fueled every important change in the world; every revolution ever conceived was based on outrage. She was also terribly afraid. Her daddy had never schooled her much about fear. She knew it disgusted him so she rarely admitted it.

It was a hot summer morning, and she hated that she was forced to wear her thick white winter cardigan. She longed to take it off, but that was impossible. A lot of things were impossible now. Her daddy had left her with only one path left to travel. She stayed low in the bushes watching the house from a distance. A blue sedan cruised by for the second time. That was her brother, Errol. He was supposed to get the attention of the agents in the car in front of the house. It must've worked because an agent jumped out of the car, watching Errol drive off, and talking into a cell phone. Then a black pickup approached from the opposite direction. This was cousin Stan. She remembered that daddy told him to let his shotgun sit on the dashboard as he passed. Now the other agent was out of the car, pointing a gun at Stan's pickup, yelling. As instructed, Stan did a u-turn and gunned the motor at the two agents. They both had their weapons drawn, shooting at him as he barreled past. Daddy had rigged up a video camera and monitor so Stan could slouch below the dashboard and still see the road.

The two agents chased him down the block, shouting and shooting. Evie knew this was her moment. She was scared, but disappointing daddy was not an option. She leapt out of the bushes and scrambled up the sidewalk. She turned to look and the agents were at the end of the block, screaming into their cell phones. Even if they looked back at the house, all they would see was a short, dumpy girl taking a walk.

Daddy told her she had to be confident. He said she couldn't hesitate for even a moment. Confidence was something she knew nothing about, but she had to fake it for daddy and for the honor of the family. At the door to the house, she remembered the control in her pocket. She pulled it out, her finger on the button. She heard screaming again, and the agents had spotted her. They were running toward her, weapons drawn. It sucked the breath out of her, and she pulled on the front door without even knocking. Surprisingly, it opened, and she found herself in a rather elegant home with tall ceilings.

"Stay right where you are!"

She turned and saw a tall, thin man with a gun. Behind him were an older man and a woman.

"Put your hands up!"

She didn't move. She was finally in the presence of the monster that had destroyed her brother's life.

"Put your hands up!"

She teared up. "I'm scared!"

"Tim, she's just a kid. Probably got scared when the shooting started and ran into the first home she saw."

The man turned his head sharply. "Stay back, Mom!"

Evie started to tremble. She remembered Daddy saying that if the button got too sweaty, it might go off before she was ready. She didn't know what to do.

"What's your name?"

The tall man seemed less threatening now. She noticed that he had large green eyes. It reminded her of her second cousin from Kentucky.

"I'm Evie," she said as her body started to relax.

Just as he was going to ask another question, an agent barreled through the front door, gun drawn. "On the ground!" He barked.

Startled, she put her hands up, the controller evident in her palm. Everyone froze.

"Parker, stand down. I got this," said the thin man. "Evie, what do you have there?"

She lowered one hand and unbuttoned her cardigan like daddy showed her. Wires and explosives were taped tightly to her chest.

"Evie, what are you doing?"

She looked at him, trembling. "I'm supposed to talk to the McGee. Daddy's orders."

"I'm right here."

She narrowed her eyes. She had pictured him to be someone darker and bigger. He had been a monster in her dreams. Then she remembered how daddy told her to play this. She repeated what he told her word for word. "I have enough explosive here to take out half a city block. If you kill me, you all die."

The woman gasped and the older man put his arm around her.

"So you want to talk to me then."

She nodded. "You're my mission."

"You don't need these other folks then."

That idea confused her. Daddy had been adamant that she was to do as much damage as possible. He claimed that they were all responsible for putting her brother in Federal prison. Yet, killing everyone felt so wrong to her.

"Evie, how about we let these folks go and you and I can sit down and talk."

It seemed reasonable to her and she nodded.

Agent Parker shook his head. "My orders are to stay with you."

McGee looked at him sharply. "I'm better trained and more experienced than you are. Extra bodies are trouble. Remember your hostage training."

"Timothy, I should stay."

"Stop! Nobody argues! I'm the best trained to do this. She wants to talk to me, and we all know that I have the least to lose here. So I need you all out of here before Evie changes her mind. Now!"

"Tim!"

He looked at her, his expression softening. "It's okay, Mom. Ducky is going to take you out of here now. It's going to be fine."

Evie watched as the three of them rushed out the door. Tim waited until they were gone. "Who's your daddy, Evie?"

"Everett Wallace."

He sighed. "Then former Chief Petty Officer Wallace must be your brother."

She nodded.

"And your mission?"

"To kill you."

"Your father strapped explosives to your body and sent you out on a suicide mission?"

"Daddy says I have to be a martyr, but martyrs don't necessarily die, do they?"

"Your father told you that you'd get out of this alive?"

She nodded. "If I did everything correctly."

"Evie, sit down and talk to me for a moment."

It seemed easy to follow him into the parlor and sit down. He was a lot nicer than she thought he'd be. She sat on a fancy couch and he sat across from her. "Evie, how will you be okay if you ignite the explosives?"

She frowned. He was bringing up a question that had haunted her as well. "Daddy told me that I was wearing a special vest that will protect me."

"Evie, do you go to school?"

She looked at him warily. She recognized this sort of question. He wanted to know if she was dumb. Everyone did. Just because she couldn't learn in school didn't mean she couldn't be smart in other ways. Daddy once told her she was a smart housekeeper. "You just want to know if I'm dumb, but I'm not."

"I'm sorry, Evie. It was a dumb question." He made sure to use her name as often as possible. She would feel more at ease with him the more he acted like a friend.

"That's okay," she replied. He didn't remind her of her second cousin anymore. Now, he reminded her of the special ed. teacher she had in 3rd grade, the one that was so kind to her.

"Evie, I'm scared that if you push the button, you'll get hurt too."

She frowned. "Daddy says you'll try to talk me out of killing you."

He nodded. "Well, Evie, I'm very sick. Maybe your daddy told you that. If you kill me now, it won't matter that much 'cause I'm going to die pretty soon anyway."

….

"What the hell is he doing?" DiNozzo yelled. McGee was broadcasting his entire conversation with the girl over his cell phone. Tony and Ziva had just reached the command post the FBI set up outside of the Mallard home.

"He's establishing rapport, DiNozzo, and doing a damn good job of it too." Fornell was agitated. His agents had screwed up and now they were living out the worst case scenario. The bomb squad was on the way, and the command post was still too close to the house.

Ziva was busy on a laptop. "Everett Wallace is a retired Navy seaman. He was in for almost twenty years. Was diligent but unremarkable."

Fornell barked. "Can you find anything on Evie? She sounds like she might have some developmental delays. Don't know if she has the kind of reasoning skills she needs to negotiate."

Ziva bent over the laptop again.

"Bastard straps bombs on his disabled daughter. Frickin' unbelievable!"

"Shut up, DiNozzo and listen!"

The sound McGee was broadcasting wasn't sharp but they could still make it out. "Did your daddy have a plan in case you found out that I wasn't a monster?"

"No, but daddy said you would be tricky."

"So I might pretend to be nice but really be a mean guy."

"Yeah."

"Do you know how to tell the difference, Evie?"

There was a silence. Fornell shook his head. "Good question, Tim. I've tried to poach that boy in the past. If he gets out of this, I'm going after him big time. McGee belongs at the FBI."

"Over my dead body," Tony muttered.

A car screeched to a halt, and they turned to see Gibbs running toward them. Fornell stepped out to meet him. "He's in there with the bomber."

Gibbs nodded, breathing hard.

"Tim has his cell on speaker. We're monitoring the conversation here."

"What do we know about her?"

"She's the sister of Wallace. Apparently, this circus is all being facilitated by Wallace's father. We never identified him as a threat. He'd cooperated with us fully after Wallace's arrest. She appears to have some cognitive delays. She's pretty scared right now. McGee is trying to talk to her, but we have no idea if she's going to respond to reason."

"He's good at this, Tobias. He once convinced a roomful of desperate convicts to let him investigate a murder. He even earned their trust."

Fornell nodded. "I know. He's been doing an excellent job with her."

Jethro nodded. "I'm going in, Tobias."

He shook his head. "We don't need to spook her."

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said as he strode toward the house.

Fornell ran after him, grabbing his shoulder. "No!"

Gibbs spun around and pulled away. "Tim McGee is my life, Tobias. We come out of this together or not at all."

Tony and Ziva came running after them. Gibbs put a finger to his mouth and stopped them in their tracks. Then he slowly shook his head. Turning, he trotted up to the door of Ducky's home.

…

TBC