Gibbs hated funerals and memorial services; it came from having to attend so many of them. The fact that none of the dead this time were close to him didn't matter. They always brought back memories that he'd tried his hardest to forget. Whether he knew each person or not, they were innocent bystanders, killed for nothing more than revenge. And if it wasn't for Tony's impatience, they'd be mourning the loss of one of his team. Again. His team was his family, and he'd lost more family members than he cared to think about. He took a sideways glance at McGee, making sure his youngest surrogate son was coping ok. He'd been surprised to see the silver Porsche pull up- it was less than 3 weeks since he'd been injured, and he'd doubted that the doctors would let McGee out of the hospital. Then he hid a half smile. McGee could be incredibly stubborn in his quiet way; he probably would have signed himself out if they hadn't let him go.
After the service he dismissed his team, knowing that they'd gather at the usual bar. It had become a tradition, the quiet gathering of just the team, Abby, Ducky and Palmer. Usually a little too much alcohol was drunk, but on occasions like these he overlooked the odd sore head the next morning.
He was the last to arrive at the bar in Georgetown; they'd taken a table in the back, and there was a glass of bourbon sitting in front of one of the two empty seats, between Ducky and Tony. The other empty seat was to McGee's left; Abby's doing, no doubt. She was curiously protective of his youngest field agent, and it was just like her to make sure no one had the chance to jar his injured side. The mood at the table was subdued; Tony and Ziva were talking to Abby, and judging by the avid look on Tony's face, he was asking her about McGee's Porsche. McGee had steadfastly refused to let anyone else drive it until today. On the other side, Ducky was asking McGee about his physiotherapy, with Palmer interjecting the odd comment. Gibbs caught Ducky's eye as he sat down and nodded, knowing he had Ducky to thank for the bourbon. He was content to be able to sit and watch his team for a few minutes. This was how it should be, all of them together. They'd had a tough few weeks; some more than others, but all of them had been affected by Adams' bombing rampage. Abby and Palmer had both worked in closely with Lisa, the evidence tech who been killed; McGee had worked with Thompson when he'd been stationed in Cybercrimes.
The two he was most concerned about were Tony and McGee; Tony was slowly getting over his guilt, but McGee still had a long hard road ahead of him. This was the one thing Gibbs wouldn't be able to pull strings for to keep him on the team; not for an injury like this. Idly he wondered what McGee would do if he couldn't get his field agent status back, then mentally chastised himself for the negative thought. Ducky asked him a question then, and he turned his attention to the older man.
...
McGee and Abby leaving to return to the hospital was the signal for the gathering to break up. They drove back to Bethesda in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Something McGee had seen in Palmer's face at the bar had worried him. He'd been discussing his physiotherapy regime with Ducky, with Palmer asking an occasional question. That hadn't bothered him. When the conversation moved to his chances of regaining enough movement to rejoin the team, however, he'd caught the look of scepticism that Palmer hadn't been able to hide. Jimmy was the least practised of any of them at hiding what they didn't want seen; now he had to wonder, did the rest of the team believe he wasn't going to make it back? Was he fooling himself even trying?
