Epilogue

Tim was almost done. It was getting late, but he really wanted to get this box finished. It had been a few weeks since he'd been able to come and work on it because of all the chaos of the new house, but they were pretty well settled and talking to a contractor (vetted by the CIA) who would give them a bid on opening up the kitchen and making it larger.

It was almost to the point that he could count the number of tiles he had left to place. It was one of the best things he'd ever done and it had taken him months to complete. But there were no blobs of the adhesive, and once these last tiles were down, he could apply the grout and then seal the whole thing and it would be done. Technically, he wouldn't be done tonight since the adhesive had to cure for 24 hours before he could put the grout on, but he still thought of placing the tiles as being finished. It was the hardest part.

Gibbs had said nothing to him beyond a brief greeting. Tim wasn't sure if Gibbs was working or not. He didn't want to be interrupted so he didn't even look up from his work as the silent minutes ticked by.

Finally, he could see the end coming. Ten tiles to go. He was excited, but he forced himself to continue at his same slow, meticulous pace. A little more adhesive, carefully pressing the small tile into position, making sure it would stay in place.

Four more tiles. He tried not to get bogged down in analyzing whether or not it was perfect. It wasn't, but mosaics weren't really about being perfect anyway.

Finally, he picked up the last tile, applied the adhesive and placed it in the final gap. Then, he pressed it to make sure it would stay. Then, he sat up and looked at the finished product.

It would look better once the grout was in. He was going to be using a dark grout to make sure the white and the blue tiles would stand out, but right now, he could still see the pattern. It was beautiful.

He let out a whoosh of air.

"Done."

Gibbs came up behind him and looked over his shoulder.

"Looks good, Tim."

"Thanks."

"Who is it for?"

"Hopefully, for Tony and Ziva," Tim said.

He turned around and caught a faint expression of surprise on Gibbs' face. He smiled.

"It's getting serious. If they decide to keep it up, it'll be a wedding present."

Then, Gibbs smiled. "What if they break up?"

"Then, maybe I'll save it for Salma when she gets older and can appreciate it."

Gibbs chuckled and then looked at the box more closely.

"It's good, Tim."

"Thanks."

Then, Gibbs looked at him.

"So... are you better now?"

"What?"

"You said that you chose to do this so that you could be healed once you were done. Are you?"

Tim smiled a little and looked down at the box he'd made. For just a moment, he felt a strange desire to break it. Then, the feeling passed and he stroked the smooth tiles, enjoying the colors that represented the best part of his life.

"Maybe I never will be, Boss."

"You've said that before."

"Yeah."

"And you said that Zahara made everything else worth it. Has that changed?"

Tim swallowed and looked up.

"I don't know. If this happens again, I'll probably lose her," he said.

Gibbs took hold of his shoulders and shook him a little bit.

"No. You won't. You'll never lose your family unless you make that happen. You always have the choice, and you need to decide right now that you won't let that happen."

"But, Boss, if..."

"No, McGee. You can't think of exceptions. Decide. Right now. You have what you've always wanted: a family you love. Decide that you won't let anything they can do to you take them away from you. If you don't, you'll spend the rest of your life worrying that the exception will happen. Just enjoy your life, Tim."

There was still that little undercurrent of anxiety, that fear that he'd destroy his family that he loved so much. He hadn't yet managed to let that go completely. He looked down.

"Tim, say it."

Tim didn't want to and he shook his head.

"Yes. Say it. So that there's a witness, someone who can hold you to it, no matter what."

"Even if you die?" Tim asked, smiling a little bit. "You're a lot older than I am, Boss."

Gibbs let out a short chuckle. "Doesn't matter. I'll still hold you to it. Say it."

"I can't lose them."

"Then, decide you won't."

Tim looked Gibbs in the eye. "Even if it means I have to kill someone to keep it from happening?"

He knew that Gibbs didn't like the idea of Tim McGee being willing to kill, and so he wanted to see how far Gibbs' determination went.

"If that's the only option, then, you'll have to do it."

"Then, I won't," Tim said, even though it scared him to say it.

"Good."

Gibbs let him go.

"How long does that have to dry?"

"Twenty-four hours. I'll come back tomorrow, if you don't mind."

Then, suddenly, Gibbs smiled. "I never mind that you're here, Tim. Anytime you want to come."

Tim smiled back. "Same here. If you need something to fill your time, you're always welcome at my place. ...especially if you'll help with the renovations we want to do."

Gibbs laughed. "Go home, McGee."

"See you tomorrow, Boss."

With one last look at his box, Tim left the basement and headed home. It was late, but he'd warned Zahara that he might be longer tonight than usual. When he got home, he didn't go to bed. Instead, he went to his computer and sat down. He booted it up and headed into one of the hidden corners of the Internet.

Someone he'd never seen before mentioned him and asked some questions. He was about to reply when a few other people instantly warned this person that he needed to careful about what he was asking and what he was thinking. Tim McGee was obsolete.

Tim smiled to himself.

So far. So good.

He logged out, shut down his computer and went to bed.

FINIS!