May 25
I have not slept one wink.
William Shakespeare (1564 - 1616), "Cymbeline", Act 3 scene 4
Timothy McGee hated insomnia.
He didn't understand how it was possible for him to suffer from it. Okay, he saw horrific things that would traumatize anyone, and he despaired for the future of the human race at times, but usually he didn't have a problem. Most of the time, he was so exhausted from doing whatever Gibbs ordered and working his insane hours that he would fall asleep the moment his head touched the pillow (or his desk, or the back of his chair…)
It was not as though he'd had a quiet week either. Two kidnappings, a triple homicide and a terrorist cell had all been dealt with in the last week. His brain was exhausted from all the clandestine hacking he had been doing, from interviews with witnesses and suspects, and from attempting to determine and follow a line of investigation. Not to mention all the overtime he would be putting in for after Gibbs had demanded their presence at zero seven hundred every morning and sent them home after midnight.
His body ached all over. He had barely managed to walk from his car to his apartment, let alone his apartment door to his bed. Anyone else would have lost consciousness hours ago. But for some insane reason, he could not fall asleep.
He sighed as he reached for his phone. At least he was relatively confident Abby would be awake as well. With all the caffeine she drank, it was a wonder she ever slept. Perhaps talking to the Goth would slow his mind down enough to allow him to sleep.