Stupid! Stupid! Rude! Stupid! Stupid! Rude! Almost like a child's handclapping game, the mantra stubbornly repeats itself in Tim's mind all the way back to his office, in perfect rhythm with his steps, as if to mock him even more. What the hell had gotten in to him that he would talk to Gibbs that way?

Not here and not now?

What the hell was he trying to prove? What was this sudden urge to kick dirt up in the man's face? Tony's maybe but why Gibbs? And why hadn't Gibbs put up a fight, so to speak? Why so amiable about Tim's out of the ordinary answer? Could it be because Tim's answer hadn't been that unreasonable, after all? Then why did he have the overwhelming urge to pick up his cell phone and call the man to apologise? Come to think of it, part of him wanted to do that for every single one of them.

Relieved that only part of him feels that way, Tim sighs. Too much favoritism, misjudgment and harsh treatment has gone under that bridge for that to be what's needed now; no matter how easy it would be to sweep it all under the rug – again. No more of that!

Stepping away from the team to put an end to all of that crap – will NOT be something he second guesses himself about! This, of course, will mean that the road to fixing things with his former teammates will not be traversed lightly, that's for sure. Flipping his new cell phone over repeatedly in his hand, he contemplates the entire situation.

****NCIS****

Lost in the flow of thoughts coinciding with the cold case he was reviewing, the ringing of his cell phone startles the Team Leader as he plucks the ringing device from his pocket and flips it open to answer it."Yeah! Gibbs."

"GIBBS!" Abby's nearly hysterical voice rips through the phone line, loud enough to wake the dead and the Team Leader is quick to pull the offending noise away from his ears until it eases off.

Only then does he return the phone to his ear and attempt to get to the bottom of this apparent catastrophe on the horizon. "Abbs? What's wrong?"

"EVERYTHING! I need you to come down here right now!"

Able to hear the barely contained sobs in her shaking voice, Gibbs is quick to reassure her, even as his feet move quickly to carry him through the room to the back stairwell. "On my way, Abbs."

He doesn't remember the trip down the stairs or the jarring that it put his knees through, although they continue to protest such treatment, even now as he stops forward movement. What he does take in is the stricken look on his surrogate daughter's face as he reaches her work space. "What happened? "Abby?"

"Gibbs! You have to save me!" She runs to him and throws herself into his arms as she finally lets her distress out in the form of sobbing.

With a touch of a smirk, he gently teases her. "How many Café Pows have you had this mornin' Abbs?"

She pulls back and slugs him in the arm. "There's nothing funny about this, Gibbs!" Now she wipes her eyes on a tissue she snags from the nearby box of them, tossing the tissue in the trash can when she's done. The only sound in the room is the sound of her sadness, her hitched breathing and increasingly stifled tears resonate within the enclosed space.

"Okay. So, calm down and tell me what this is about." The Team Leader instructed with enough firmness, she knew he meant business.

"Everything!" She gripes almost petulantly.

"Abby!" Gibbs is losing patience. He's got enough on his mind and on his plate without all of this histrionics; even if he has tolerated her flare for the dramatic in the past.

"Dress codes! And Lab Assistants! And working with McGee!"

The confusion Gibbs feels clearly etches itself across his face.

"I'm being subjected to all of it, Gibbs! Starting tomorrow!" She complains with the obvious motive of having her 'Silver Fox' ride to her rescue residing clear in her tone and even in the hope filled expression that settles across her face almost before her diatribe fizzles out.

"Why?"

The question catches her off guard since it's not the immediate promise to make all things unpleasant disappear from her life pronto that she expected. For a moment, she glares at him until a light bulb seems to click on. Abby's tone perks up as if she's suddenly cheering him up, her response that of her more normal tone and enthusiasm. "THAT is a very good question, my white knight!"

"No." Gibbs shakes his head to add emphasis to his stern effort at cutting her off at the pass. Obviously something new has come up or the Director wouldn't be making drastic changes like this. While he intends to get to the bottom of this, he doesn't intend on sticking his neck on the chopping block. That is, at least until he knows what the heck is going on.

"Gibbs! You HAVE to!" She argues vehemently.

"Abby. This is between you and Vance." Having made his position clear, the Team Leader heads to the door, obviously intent on ending this fruitless discussion. "Best I can do is see what's going on. Can't promise anything else."

"When did you stop caring about me, Gibbs?" Abby snipes angrily, bringing Gibbs' feet to a complete and sudden stop. "You've always taken care of problems like this for me before Why not this time?"

Turning back, he remains in place where at the door as he prepares to answer her question. He's irritated by her less than appreciative attitude since he doesn't have to bother looking into what's going on, but could be simply leaving her on her own to whatever it is that's come down the pike. "Still one of the smartest people I know, Abby. You'll figure it out."

Abby has nothing to say to that, her shock is that severe.

Her lack of response to that seems to speak volumes to the Team Leader as he now retraces his steps, without saying a word. Crossing into her personal space, he leans in and with unmistakable quiet anger; he spells it out for her. "You abused the privilege and it cost me one of my team members. Don't push it."

Shamed and dejected, Abby closes her eyes against the onslaught of unexpected negativity surrounding this situation. Opening her eyes, she finds herself alone in the room, Unable to stop them now that her magic solution has become a bust, the tears begin to escape. Dress code? Lab Assistant? Can this get any worse? Of course it can! Working with McGee in a classroom full of agents? All those times he's rubbed his degrees in her face? Now she has to be subjected to his egotistical one man side show? Why does God suddenly hate her so much?

*****NCIS*****

Contemplation can only take you so far and as Tim drags his thoughts back from that realization they've just touched on, he stops flipping his phone over in his hand and opens it up – ready to make the next move. It's a promise he made and there's no time like the present to right the wrong his conscience won't stop berating him for. Taking a deep breath, he slowly exhales and hits the numbers he needs to make this call.

****NCIS****

In the midst of climbing the stairs back to the MCRT Squad Room, Gibbs almost groans with frustration as his phone rings again. The pain continuing to radiate from his knees adds to his mood as he growls at whomever it is that's calling, "Yeah! Gibbs!"

"I'm guessing this is a bad time. I'll try again later."

"No! McG…Tim!"

"I just wanted to follow-up. Let you know that anytime is okay with me, so long as it's off the yard. With the schedule you guys have…. If you'll just call me when you're free; I'll meet you."

Gibbs swallows around the lump in his throat. He hadn't expected such a quick response from Tim and he can't hold back the relief that floods through him that this isn't being dragged out – this talk they both realize needs to happen between them.

"Gibbs?" Tim's voice asks into the silence where the answer to his question should have been.

Brought out of his private musings, Gibbs finally offers his thoughts. "Appreciate it, Tim. I'll call you."

"Okay." For the first time ever, it's Tim who ends the call abruptly, leaving the Team Leader shocked motionless.

****NCIS*****

The afternoon drags on for Team Gibbs, as no new case comes in. Even with the typical noises of a room full of computer keyboards and phones being used, the aura of 'not normal' permeates the workspace. It's a tangible feeling that something drastic has changed and those caught up in the wake of it are still struggling to adjust. It's a far cry from the jovial atmosphere that resided here not too long ago.

Trying hard to maintain her concentration on new leads that she has yet to pinpoint, Ziva mentally calls for a break and drops her pen to her desk in frustration. Getting to her feet, she rounds her desk enroute to the ladies room before heading to the break room. She hasn't gone three feet before she's stopped by Tony's unexpected words; the first he's spoken in several hours:

"Just call him already."

Turning to look at him, she asks with all seriousness as she harnesses her ire. "Call whom, Tony?"

"Who? McGee! That's who! I mean, that is who you can't stop worrying about, isn't it?"

"Tony, I can not just call him." She protests before she can stop the words from escaping.

"Sure you can! And it beats not knowing, right?"

"It would be better to know, yes." Ziva admits.

"Okay, then! That settles it. Call him!"

"I can not!" She reiterates with more frustration noticeably raising her voice.

"Why the hell not?" Tony's obvious irritation and confusion rings clear.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs barks from across the room. He can tolerate only so much of this soap opera crap. His team needs to keep this stuff to their own time, not to mention just between themselves. Work comes first since no one they're discussing is hurt or missing. They should know this by now!

Goaded beyond the stopping point, Ziva retorts. "Because I do not have his new cell number! Nor do I know where in this building he is working so I do not know his new desk number, either!" Embarrassed, she lets her head fall almost down to her chest in frustration.

Duly chastised by both the boss' attention to the discussion and Ziva's sad disclosure that makes perfect sense, Tony gives up with a look of apology in his team mate's direction. "Oh. Well, you've got a point there. Sorry, Ziva."

Without another word, Ziva raises her head and glances over at Gibbs, actually crossing knowing looks with him before she rounds her desk and exits the squad room past Tony's desk, leaving a heavy silence in her wake.

Gibbs frowns as he realizes that Tim gave him his new cell number by calling him earlier. He's not sure it was deliberate on the younger man's part and feels a twinge of sadness that he's not in any position to give that number out since Tim didn't specifically ask him to. The Team Leader isn't free to get in the middle of this. All he can do is hope that the young man will be able to find his way to being ready to reach out to his friends and former team mates soon, even if it's just to ask for some space.

****NCIS*****

An afternoon of preparing for the upcoming class has kept Tim busy putting together enough challenging quiz questions that the agents will be seriously thinking their way through the class and not sleeping through it. He smiles as he slides the last of the stacks of quizzes into the file folder he's gotten out for it. Vance hadn't said anything about tests or quizzes, but what's a 'good' class without at least one or two? Right?

Glancing at his watch, he's shocked to find that it's after five and his work day is officially done. Heading out of the building via the back stairwell a short few minutes later, Tim can't help but reflect on the times he's done this before, with his team mates – or to escape them. His former team mates; people he had once considered to be his trusted friends. The feeling that the damage done to those relationships is probably irreparable, hurts like hell because deep down, he'd come to think of them as family ages ago; twisted and warped as they sometimes acted towards him.

He's loved and cared about them like family for years now. The instances of pain, degradation, humiliation and disrespect dished out from at least one of them through those years isn't enough to completely burn those bridges – with any of them; at least from where he's standing, anyway.

Whether or not Tony, Ziva, Gibbs, Ducky, Jimmy and yes, even Abby feels the same, remains to be seen. Tim pauses mentally when it hits him that at the moment, he's relatively unconcerned about Abby's point of view on the matter. Wow. How long has it been since he's felt like this? Forcing himself to keep his thoughts moving forward, he realizes that all he can do is hope they'll accept one step at a time from him. The days of his passively lying dormant while they throw any volatile reaction they have at him, are gone. He is not expendable and he won't let anyone treat him like he is again.

With a sigh, he straightens his shoulders and heads outside, taking stock of his surroundings. Ironically enough, he spies one of the subjects of his thoughts sitting on the quiet garden bench under the shade tree off in the distance. They're looking awfully pensive, judging by the less than erect shoulders and stiff hold of their frame. Meant to be? A gift wrapped sign? Maybe. Definitely, not one to overlook.

***NCIS***

The end of the day had been anti-climactic and with no obvious answers that didn't amount to stalking, Ziva still hadn't been able to formulate a plan to communicating with Tim. Tony was right. She'd not been happy about that. Not being able to see for herself that McG….Tim is alright; to be able to talk to him herself and ask him to talk to her honestly and without sugar coating what he needs her to hear about this chasm between them; well, unhappy is putting it mildly.

Maybe it's her own unconscious reaction to the seemingly uncaring attitudes of her team mates with regard to the deteriorated situation with Tim that has fueled her own restlessness on the matter. Regardless of the motivation, she'd still been antsy about it as she'd signed out for the night earlier and brought herself out here to think.

"..iva?"

The alarmed voice of the very person her thoughts have been wrapped around brings Ziva away from her musings with a jolt. Looking toward the voice, she's happy to see him standing there, even if he is looking decidedly worried. "McGee!" Her face alights with the smile she can't hold back.

"Are you okay?" Tim is still concerned enough to push the issue, letting her obvious happiness at seeing him rest untouched for the moment.

"I am fine. I was merely thinking too deeply. Nothing more" She reassures him while beckoning him to join her on the bench.

Tim shakes his head reluctantly. "Not here, Ziva. But' I'd love to treat you to dinner. We can talk there. That is – if you're interested in us talking."

"I am very interested. And it will be my pleasure to have dinner with you." She responds with complete relief and honesty mixed together.

Tim smiles softly. "Great. Why don't you follow me? I know this great place where the atmosphere isn't loud and nauseating and the food's pretty good too."

"I would like that."

*****NCIS*****

The rest of the week flies by as the MCRT gets one call out after another and Tim is caught up in the fray of last minute changes and tweaks to his class outline, guidelines for his quizzes and structured discussion of the cases he'll be using. It occurs to him that he really needs to fine tune his joint session with Abby but for the moment all he can do is adhere to her written outline – to the letter.

He glances at his watch and gets to his feet. It's Friday and it's lunch time. The workweek is almost gone. Finally, he's ready to take it easy – at least long enough to enjoy his lunch. Settling down with his sandwich, from the comfort of his own desk, he finds himself looking back at his conversation with Ziva the other night.

***Flashback***

"You are looking much better than the last time I saw you, McGee." Ziva says kindly as soon as he's held her chair out for her and settled himself into his own seat at the corner table he'd requested from the Maître D when they'd arrived.

Tim laughs quietly. "You're the second person who's told me that today. But thank you. And thank you for all you did for me out at the beach house."

"Do you get those dreadful headaches often? We have not seen anything to suggest you have such difficulties as that."

Tim shakes his head. "Not often enough to warrant discussing them unless, like at that time, they happen to flare up."

"I see."

Silence settles between them uncomfortably for a moment until Tim looks directly at her and asks her bluntly, albeit in a kind tone that comes naturally to him where she is concerned. "What do you want from this, Ziva?"

"Our friendship intact." Her answer is immediate.

Tim can't help but smile at her less than aggressive hope. His expression turns sad as he asks for the clarification they both seem to need on the subject. "Isn't it already intact? Or has that been destroyed by my leaving the team, too?"

"Destroyed?" Ziva questions with confusion. "It is I who believed that you were more than ready to turn away from us. We did not; I did not treat you with the respect you have earned and it took your drastic decision to bring that to light. For that, McGee, I am deeply sorry."

"Apology accepted." Tim offers quietly. "But, I guess you're right. I was ready to do that and part of me still wants to keep the distance – self-preservation, I guess. I do know that I'm not going to sit still for any of what's happened before. I'm done with being treated like that, by anyone."

"That is understandable. Please do not feel badly for that. I, for one, am happy to hear such honesty from you. It is not often you allow us to see inside of you like this."

"Only you, Ziva." Tim replies in jest, although there is a ring of truth in his tone.

She looks at him quizzically.

"What?" He wants to know

"I believe you mean that."

Smiling shyly, he hides behind his sudden need to drink until his glass of iced water is empty.

"McGee. I wish to know what it is I have done that contributed to the need you had to walk away from the team you were once happy to work with."

Setting his glass down, he wraps his hands around it like a life line. With his eyes glued to the now empty glass, he answers her – quietly and honestly.

"At first, it was the repeated support you gave Tony while he continued crossing that line- you know, too many times of gluing my keyboard or invading my privacy when he thought I wasn't looking or just plain being disrespectful. Then it was your driving; deliberately dangerous because you were pissed at me for writing the books."

"That was a long time ago." She quietly reminds him.

Looking up at her now, he replies in kind. "You're right. It was. That's why, this isn't really about you. I mean, you've been more supportive of me recently than anyone outside of Ducky and to an extent, Jimmy – well, until recently for them, anyway. What I'm trying to say is that I can't really thank you enough for that. To tell you the truth, I can't think of a single reason this has anything to do directly with you at all, because it has been so long since you've backed Tony's crappy behavior."

Ziva smiles as she reaches out her hand to touch his wrist across the table. "I am relieved – to know that our friendship remains – together. It is very important to me. Although I am very sad that you have had to leave the team to find happiness with your work."

"Me too, Ziva. On both counts. Me too."

****End Flashback***

Tim gets to his feet, taking his trash with him as he heads to the break room. The smile on his face comes as he recalls sending Ziva a text message after he'd seen her to her car that night after dinner. He'd wanted her to have his new cell number – so he'd given it to her – by thanking her for the lovely dinner. Her reply had been simple yet uplifting - a smiley face that now sits in his saved messages - locked so it can't be deleted.

Now here it is days later and they've not seen each other since. Work and its crazy schedule for the MCRT has lent itself to that reality but Tim has been too busy to think on that for very long. If he'd given himself the chance, he would have had to stop and analyze what was happening between himself and Ziva.

Wait! What? No! She's way out of his league and he's not suicidal enough to expect that from her! No! They're friends and that's awesome. But that's where things stand between them. Friends!

"There you are!" Abby's irritated screech reaches his ears louder than necessary, bringing his thoughts to a grinding halt.

"Abby." He greets her cautiously.

"We need to talk."

"About?"

"Seriously? The class, McGee! The class! Jeez, what'd you think we'd have to talk about after the way you just up and quit on Gibbs the way you did? I'll tell you what, Mister. If it wasn't for Vance making me do this with you - I'd have nothing to say to you - At. All!"

"What about the class?" Tim asks with barely restrained patience as he completely ignores her attitude and self-righteous crap.

"Well, you need to tell me exactly what you're planning on teaching these guys. So we don't trip over each other's plans. I know you think you've got it all covered, what with you 'degrees' and everything but…"

"You can see for yourself." Tim firmly interrupts her as he leads the way to the classroom that's been set up.

"Wow. This is ….this is cool, McGee!" She admits as she looks around the room.

"Vance did it – well, had it set up. But, yeah, it is cool. Your computer station and desk are over there. My work station's on the other side of the room."

"Oh." Abby smirks. "Afraid we'll get in each other's way, McGee?" She taunts him in a moment of attempted humor.

"Actually, I am." He returns deadpans.

Struck silent, Abby remains stock still for a moment before huffing out a frustrated breath and turning her back on him to investigate her designated work space. Talking to herself now, she takes time to whip out a pen and piece of paper, writing herself a list.

Leaving her to it, Tim heads to his own desk and retrieves a copy of the outline he's put together – as well as a copy of the tests and quizzes he's pulled together. Heading back over to her, he slides a file folder with his stuff in it, onto her desk, clearly labeled for her. Before she can speak, he's gone from the room, anxious to breathe in his own space again.