Heroes And Demons by ceilidh
A/N: Well, we're into the final stretch now, and the serious talking also starts here.
I'm sure I'm not the only one who thinks that Gibbs sees Abby as his lost daughter, hence the closeness of their relationship. Of course, we don't find out about Shannon and Kelly until the start of series four, so Tim wouldn't have known about them either during the timeline of Bloodbath - hence the rather awkward position that Gibbs finds himself in towards the end of this chapter. Don't worry, though - Abby certainly isn't off the hook just yet!
As always, I hope you enjoy!
Heroes And Demons
Chapter Ten - Healing Through Hell
He'd withdrawn again, into a restless silence which, by turn, had again left Gibbs quietly worried.
In the Marines, in all their Armed Forces, they could call this PTSD. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Triggered by a seemingly harmless event – well, Gibbs already knew how horrific the rest could be.
He didn't know its civilian equivalent, but he figured, he quietly prayed, that its solution was the same.
He'd already managed the first part. He'd brought Tim McGee back into a place where he felt safe. Another reviving coffee had cleared his eyes, and thankfully brought a faint smile back onto his face.
So far, so good. Now he just had to get through the trickiest part, and get the boy talking again – his own experience giving Gibbs a crucial connection, a common ground, that he could build upon. And as he'd hoped, Tim McGee hung onto his every word like a toddler listening to a favourite story.
"I know I haven't gone through what you've been through, Tim, but… well, I still know how you feel. I saw hell on earth when I was in the Marines, and… well, you went through yours, Tim, at that camp. When you were force-fed those maggots, you went through something that traumatized you, and hurt you. And however much a genius you were, even at that age, you were still too young to fully deal with it.
So you did the only thing you could do, Tim, to make all that pain, and anger, and shame, go away. You suppressed that memory, and… well, you said it yourself, that punishment brought it all back. And suppressing trauma like that, Tim, without realizing you're doing it, or how badly it's affecting you… yeah, when you finally let yourself remember, it can make even the sanest person go kinda crazy-"
Realizing that hadn't quite come out as he'd meant it, Gibbs offered Tim a suitably rueful grin – so relieved for the shy smile which told him that he didn't need to say any more.
Just to make sure, though, Gibbs squeezed his shoulder, then gave it a fatherly heartening shake.
"But you're not crazy, Tim. You're one of the strongest, sanest, and bravest, people that I've ever met. And what you've faced tonight, Tim, what you've told me, took a lot of courage. I'm proud of you-"
"Then why don't you trust me, boss? Why didn't you trust my judgement?" Tim cut in softly – encouraged by a surprisingly understanding smile to ask the hardest, most crucial questions of all.
"If you're proud of me, boss, as much as you've just said you are, why can't you just believe in me? Why didn't you listen to me, even when I practically begged you not to inflict that punishment? And why do you always take Abby's word, above everyone else's, even when you know she's wrong?"
It was the longest, and certainly the strongest, speech that he'd made since they'd returned. Judging by two steadily rising eyebrows, Gibbs had been as surprised by it as McGee was himself.
Finally, and to Tim's open relief, Gibbs smiled at him and, if somewhat ruefully, nodded agreement.
"I know you must have doubted it in the past, and even more so now, but… Tim, I do believe in you. I wouldn't have recommended you, onto my team, if I didn't believe in you, or your abilities. Only the best people make it to my team, and… yes, believe this, Tim, you're one of the best agents I've ever worked with-"
If he hadn't had Tim McGee's attention before, Gibbs knew he had every part of his attention now – his eyes so wide, so huge that, if it were humanly possible, they'd have rolled out of their sockets.
Quietly cherishing that priceless expression, Gibbs returned that shy smile with one of pure relief – pausing for a moment, before he tried to answer the question that would revive his own personal hell.
"As for favouring Abby… yes, you had every right to ask me that, too. Why I always take her side. After everything you've been through tonight, and three days ago, I know you deserve an answer, but… well, it's harder for me to explain, Tim, than you can appreciate right now. It's hard, Tim. Complicated-"
The eyes that met his might have been shadowed by tiredness and his own awful memories – but to Gibbs' bittersweet pride, the uniquely brilliant mind beyond it was still as sharp as ever.
"Because she reminds you of someone. That's why you've always been so close-" Tim said at last – the enthusiasm of knowing he was right skidding, gradually, into realization of a wholly different kind.
"Someone special, someone really close to you, who… that's… oh! Oh, boy… boss, I - I'm… oh, crap-"
Considering he'd been forced to kneel in the real, revolting stuff when he'd been eight years old – yes, as he continued to face its legacy, this was a truly momentous thing for Tim McGee to say.
Judging by the smile of fatherly affection that spread over Gibbs' face, he'd appreciated it, too – his reply stopped by quiet words of pure compassion, and shaken realization, as Tim shook his head.
"No, boss, if – if it's that hard for you, then… no, boss, I – I don't have the right to make you tell me-"
Breathing a silent sigh of relief, Gibbs then smiled, in pride for the new understanding on Tim McGee's face. He would tell him, of course, when the time was right – but that time wasn't quite right for either of them yet.
They'd both suffered. Both had memories that had left them scared, and scarred. Hurt, and traumatized. But as their eyes met, and held, those traumas and memories became just slightly easier to live with.