Tim was released from hospital three days later, and despite the guidance of hospital staff, he was returning to his apartment, alone.

Tony dropped him off, and Tim stood, staring at the apartment door, the memories would haunt him for as long as he decided to stay.

He turned the key, and walked into the entrance of his home, it was too much, he couldn't handle it. Walking quickly to his bedroom, he pulled his gun out of the holster, and locked the door.

Sitting cross-legged on his bed, he held the SIG to his head. He remembered the first time he met Abby; he had changed immensely since then. He was four years older, with an equivalent of twenty years of near death experiences, pain, and grief, but he had also gained the best, and most exciting moments from his few years at NCIS.

His hand was vigorously shaking, as he contemplated his choices, or lack thereof. He began to cry again, and though still deciding, his finger slipped on the trigger. He waited for the impending death, but nothing happened.

Maybe I'm already dead, maybe this is hell, Tim thought, as he pulled the trigger again, nothing. Suddenly, his bedroom door flew open, and Tony walked in.

"I took the bullets out, it was just precautionary, but I can't believe you were actually gonna do it Tim! You can't just take the cowards way out, pack your stuff, you're movin' in with me." Tony practically yelled.

"No! I'm staying here!" Tim yelled back, a surprising amount of venom in his tone. But there was no deterring Tony, he grabbed a suitcase from Tim's wardrobe, and started shoving all of his clothes into it.

"If you stay here, you'll just try something else, a knife, a letter opener, hell you could use your writing pipe if you were desperate enough!"

"Fine." Tim whispered, unable to argue with his 'almost brother', and began helping him to pack.

"What's gonna stop me from doin' it at your place?" Tim asked.

"Me!" Tony replied, a slight smile crept onto the corner of his mouth.

"So, you and Ziva huh?"

"Yeah, I finally got the guts to tell her."

"It's great Tony, I only wish Abby was around to share the moment." Tim began to sob again at the sound of her name.

Tony stopped packing Tim's possessions, and sat beside his friend, putting an arm around his shoulders, as Tim turned his head, and cried openly on Tony's shoulder.

"We were just about to get married, and she was pregnant, I mean we were gonna be a family…" he whimpered, Tony simply nodded, as a single tear trickled down the side of his face.

"C'mon, we gotta get you outta this place." Tony sighed, pulling Tim up with him. They soon finished packing, and were out on the road. Despite Tony frequently breaking into Tim's apartment, Tim had never seen Tony's apartment

He tailed Tony in his car, trying to concentrate on driving, considering that if he crashed, he would achieve the goal he had been trying for, when putting the gun to his head.

"Abby wouldn't want me to give up." He whispered to himself, her name alone evoking tears in his pained, tortured eyes. He was actually glad to arrive at Tony's apartment; there was no longer a risk of him deciding to end it all.

"I'm proud of ya Tim." Tony said, and guided him to the apartment.

"Why?"

"You didn't try to kill yourself when you were driving here."

"I considered it."

"Oh… but you didn't do it, so I'm still proud of ya." Tim smiled slightly at Tony's encouragement.

Hospitality was an understatement for that day, Tony was polite, and considerate, which are two traits he rarely demonstrates, especially towards Tim.

Tony's apartment was nothing like Tim had expected, no dirty socks, no pants strewn across the floor, Tim was actually impressed. The floor was some kind of wood, polished though, seemingly upper class.

His furniture was classy, and modern, and noticeably expensive, especially the kitchen. Tim was jealous of Tony, his friend had everything, good looks, a beautiful girlfriend, an amazing home, lots of money, and an amazing job.

And the thing that made him so jealous wasn't that he would never have some of these things, but that he used to. He had been so close to marriage, with the woman he truly loved, to having a family even. He thought about one day, having his own team, just like Gibbs, his mentor, his father figure.

However, whenever Tim thought about having his own team recently, he hated the idea, he was an important cog, in the well oiled machine, that is 'Team Gibbs'.

Tim looked down into his hands, finding the ring on his finger; he sighed, and remembered back to the night of the proposal.

He didn't care about the attention he received, or the drinks he was constantly shouted, it was that they were official, they were in love, and they always would be, at least that was the idea.