Rifiuto: Non Miriena

"I wasn't sure I'd see you back here." Tim looked up, meeting Ebony's gaze. He sighed; after what he'd been told today at work, all he wanted was to drown in booze and never go back to the Navy Yard. "Not after last night. Lexi told me she saw that girl of yours leave the bar. Must have caught us." Tim nodded, silent. He took a seat at the bar, and crossed his arms. "So you two make up, or she not speaking to you?"

"We made up."

"Then what's the problem?" She set a glass down on the counter in front of him and grabbed a bottle of whiskey. She stopped pouring, setting the bottle on the bar and leaning against the hardwood. "Uh-oh. I know that look. It was the same look you got when you had to take the flacseed test to become an agent."

"FLETC." Tim corrected gently. Ebony nodded, topped off his drink and put the bottle away before setting the glass in front of him.

"Right. What happened?" He glanced at her before grabbing the glass and tossing back the shot. "Tim. Drowning your troubles in alcohol isn't going to do anything but make you sick and unable to drive. And I'd take you home to sleep it off, but you know how my parents feel about alcohol- only special occasions. Besides, you know I'd never let Shanda see her god daddy like this. What happened?" He sighed, glancing at the bottom of the glass before setting it back down.

"Hit me again and I'll tell you." She pulled the glass towards her and filled it, but held it up out of reach.

"Talk first and then I'll give to you."

"Eb, come on." She raised an eyebrow.

"Start talkin', Tim." She brought the glass to her lips, but he reached for it. She held it further out of reach. "Start talkin' and you can have it." He sighed, sitting back and rubbing his forehead.

"Ducky found signs of cervical fracture on my mom's body." Ebony set the drink in front of him, and then grabbed a bottle of beer, removing the cap and taking a sip. She watched him down the shot, and then reached over, taking the glass and dropping it in the sink. When she returned to him, she set a tumbler with ice and whiskey in front of him. "And skin cells under her fingernails."

"So she fought back." He nodded.

"And... what appears to be... cut marks on the lips of her genitalia." He choked on a breath; clearly that was what upset him the most- that someone could do something that heinous to his mother.

"Oh, God." Ebony put her beer down, pushing it to the side at the thought of such a thing. She had never met Emily McGee- the older woman had died long before Ebony had come into the picture- but she had met John, and she hadn't been too impressed with him. Actually, in all honesty, she'd been downright scared of him. But she loved Tim and Sarah, and so had taken their father's quirks with a grain of salt. Even when she would spend breaks at the McGee house with Tim in Alexandria, she couldn't wait to get back to the dorm, and counted down the days until they could go back to school. "Tim, I'm so-"

"Doesn't matter." He whispered, lifting his drink. "Gibbs was right." He took a sip, and Ebony sighed.

"Tim, look at me." She wasn't going to have him block her out like he was prone to do; they'd been through too much together for her to let him wallow in his own heartache. "Tim! Look at me." He slowly raised his eyes to hers, and she saw the tears glistening within the green depths. "You are my best friend. The only man besides my father that I truly trust." She bit her lip. "And I am not going to let you sit here and drink yourself into a coma, that will solve nothing."

"What do you expect me to do, Ebony?" He asked, raising the glass to his lips and taking another sip. "Arrest my father? He's dead and buried now, just like my mom was; until they dug he up and brought her to D.C." He finished the glass. "Bastards can't leave well enough alone." He set the glass gently back on the table, swallowing. "Uno mas, s'il vous plait."

"You're mixing your languages again, Tim."

"And my liquors." He replied, pushing the glass towards her. "One more." She shook her head.

"No, you've had enough. I'll get that coffee ready." She took the glass, setting it in the sink and set to work on the Irish coffee she knew would knock some sense into him. "As for your dad, honestly, I'm glad he's dead. Something wasn't right about him." Tim shrugged.

"Pick one." She raised an eyebrow. "He was a secret racist, an egotistical narcissist, a compulsive, pathological liar, an alcoholic, a drug-abuser; there's more, but that's just what I can think of off the top of my head. So go ahead, pick one."

Ebony nodded, taking a deep breath. "No wonder you never kept in contact." He shrugged. "So, explain something to me. And, I know you've told me this before, but... years have gone by and I've forgotten." She added the coffee and then set the pot down, leaning against the counter and catching his eye. "How did you end up at MIT at fifteen?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I know how I ended up there at fifteen. How did you?" He sighed, licking his lips.

"Graduated early. By that time, though, I just... I wanted out of the house. Dad was never home, he was always away on tour, or patrol or whatever they call it in the Navy, and... Sarah and I raised ourselves. So I worked my ass off all through the summer, completed four years of high school in two and graduated valedictorian. Showed up at MIT the first week in August on a full-ride scholarship and never looked back. Got to my dorm that first day and... met a... wiry-haired, pierced and tattooed African American chick who loved Eddie Vedder and worshipped Nirvana and The Gits, and spent more time playing Fade to Black than doing her homework."

Ebony blushed, a beautiful pink tinge coming to her cheeks. "Okay, okay, I get it. Not that I was all that impressed with you when I realized we were sharing a dorm." He raised an eyebrow. "Oh don't give me that look. You know very well what I mean- you with your... computer programs and Billie Holliday Jazz-"

"Billie Holiday's R and B."

"Whatever." She grabbed a spoon and poured the cream. "And your comic books and that stupid typewriter. I honestly couldn't stand you when we first met."

"Well you were no picnic either, with your late night partying and obnoxious parade of guys coming and going constantly from our dorm-"

"Hey, at least I went out instead of spending all my time in the library, like some people I know." She replied, adding a dash of cinnamon. "If I hadn't known any better, I'd have thought you were still a virgin when we met." Tim rolled his eyes as she pushed the mug towards him.

"I was not."

"Oh really? Who was your first? And where?" Tim shook his head.

"You first. Who was yours?"

"I asked you first."

"And I'm asking back. Who was your first, Tim and where?" He sighed.

"Her name was Tali Davidson, and we were thirteen. Met in Portland, when my sister and I went up to stay with Penny for a few days one summer; lost in the back of her dad's mustang during a drive-in movie- My Cousin Vinny, I think. Maybe Poison Ivy... I don't remember the movie much." He brought the mug to his lips, thinking. "Come to think of it, she looked a lot like Ziva." Ebony nodded, watching him.

"Must just be your type." Ebony joked.

"Now you." She sighed, grabbing her beer and taking a sip.

"Phoenix, over summer break. My stepdad. I was ten." Tim sighed.

"God, Eb, I'm-" She waved it away.

"Doesn't matter now, Tim. It's in the past; the bastard's behind bars and... I've moved on." She stopped as he laid a hand over hers.

"Just because we both come from fucked up families doesn't mean we have to go through it alone. You can always come to me." She sighed, squeezing his hand.

"I know." Then, she leaned over, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "It'll get better, Tim. I know it hurts, this with your mom, but it'll all be over soon." He nodded.

"I hope you're right, Eb."

"I know I'm right."