disclaimer: Unfortunately, during the last year, I have not made any progress regarding ownership of NCIS.

I hope I still have people interested in this...would love to know that you are still out there and what you think...

No Accident, Chapter 12, Osmosis

Tim had hoped that when he woke up that his memory of the previous day, specifically that of having amnesia, would end up being part of a weird dream. Unfortunately, that had not been the case. Nor had he miraculously regained his memories while sleeping. On the plus side, he knew where he was, even if it was just because of yesterday's memories and not prior knowledge or remembrance of his location.

He was beginning to believe that this was futile. So far, nothing had seemed familiar. Not his apartment, the music, pictures, nor most of his contacts on his phone, his boss's house, or even most of his teammates. The only one he thought he had remembered was Ziva and he ended up being so far off the mark with that it was embarrassing. Not to mention, his reaction to Gibbs that first day.

With a sigh, he rolled over and grabbed his phone to look at the time before letting his eyes scan the rest of the room. Something was wrong, was the first thought that came to mind. Tensing, he scanned the room again. Tilting his head, he realized, that it was really quiet. Too quiet. He didn't remember what he should be hearing, only that hearing silence didn't seem right.

Another thing he noticed was that the chair in the room had been moved. Frowning he looked at the chair, noticing that it had been moved both closer to the bed, but also more in the corner, as if to give someone a vantage point for watching the room. Tim didn't remember having an issue with sleep-walking, but then again, there was a lot he wasn't remembering lately.

With a sigh, Tim decided not to focus on the issue. If he got a chance, he would ask his teammates, and apparently, the only friends he had, if they knew his history in regards to somnambulism, he thought before collapsing back against the bed and pondering his options. He could try going back to sleep, after all, the sun had just risen and technically he was recovering. No one could fault him for resting, yet he suspected that his mind wouldn't let him do that. He could pretend to be asleep in case Gibbs came by to check on him. Not the bravest of actions, Tim realized, but he really didn't know how to interact with the former Marine. Whenever he was with the older man, it seemed to Tim that Gibbs was waiting for him to say or do something, and the last thing Tim wanted to do was embarrass himself again. He had a feeling that that plan wouldn't work, even though he didn't remember much about his boss, he was confident that Gibbs would figure out what he was doing and confront him about it. That only left one option, to get up, dressed, and pretend as best he could that everything was fine.

Tim paused as he stood in the bedroom doorway, newly showered and dressed. He couldn't hear any sounds that indicated that Gibbs was awake or even that someone else was in the house. Believing that his host was still sleeping, Tim carefully and quietly crept down the stairs, surprised to find the man in question asleep on the couch. Taking a moment, Tim pulled the afghan off of the back of the sofa and draped it over the still form, being careful not to wake the older man. He then headed towards the kitchen. Upon arrival at what many considered the 'heart of the home', he paused and looked around as he wondered what to do next. He didn't really feel that hungry, nor did he feel comfortable digging around a stranger's cupboards. Before he could turn and leave, a soft woof had him realize that he wasn't alone.

Tim froze before slowly turning around. The dog, his dog, Jethro, stood panting in the corner, two dishes by his feet. "Oh, you're probably hungry," Tim spoke softly to the dog, hoping the fear he felt wasn't evident in his voice. Jethro gave another bark as if confirming his words. "Quiet, Jethro," he automatically commanded, "We don't want to wake Gibbs," Tim continued, just as quietly as before. "At least, not until the coffee is made," he instinctively added.

"How about I feed you, and you don't attack me?" Tim pleaded, really hoping that Gibbs remained asleep and didn't see him negotiating with a dog. "Um, I'm not sure how much to give you," he admitted, scrunching his nose as he pondered the situation. With a shrug, he filled the bowl, keeping one eye on the dog the entire time. "Better to err on the side of caution and feed you too much," he explained, "Rather than not enough, and have you looking for food elsewhere." Tim grimaced, one hand absently caressing his neck.

"I'll have to look through my contacts and see if I can find your vet, maybe they can help me with that," he muttered, stepping away from the Jethro's bowl to allow the dog unfettered access.

With the dog happily munching on food, it reminded Tim that he should probably eat as well, even if he wasn't that hungry. Looking around the kitchen once more, Tim noticed the coffee maker and remembering his earlier remark, decided to brew a pot of coffee first. Once that was started, he noticed a bread box on the counter and decided to make a few pieces of toast.

After pouring his coffee and eating his toast, he returned upstairs to make a plan on how to live a life that he didn't remember much about.

The first thing Gibbs did when he woke was stretch. While the couch itself wasn't uncomfortable, the position he fell asleep in had been. He smiled as he smelled coffee, automatically moving to go grab a cup. When the afghan that had been on the back of the couch when he fell asleep tumbled onto the floor, he looked at in confusion before he realized what must have happened. Obviously, McGee was up, since someone had to make the coffee, no doubt the younger man had found him asleep in the living room and covered him with the nearest available blanket. Gibbs quickly folded it and put it back in place before heading towards the kitchen. He had only taken a few steps when he was greeted by Tim's dog, who was bouncing around. "Okay, okay," Gibbs muttered, changing directions and heading towards the back door. As soon as it was opened, Jethro darted out; shaking his head, Gibbs closed the door, grateful that he had a fenced in yard that was secure for the dog. He couldn't imagine talking the dog for a walk before having his coffee.

Gibbs sighed as he entered the empty kitchen. He had been hoping that Tim had still been in there. After pouring himself a cup of ambrosia, he sat at the table and looked around. Other than the pot of coffee, there was no sign that Tim had been in the kitchen. No dirty mug, plate, or utensils. He wasn't even sure if Tim had grabbed anything to eat that morning. He cocked his ear to the side, trying to determine if there were signs of life upstairs. He couldn't even tell if Tim was awake. He continued sipping his coffee as he thought about what he should do. It was just the two of them, since the rest of the team had to report in to work.

By the time his mug was empty, he still hadn't figured things out. The only thing he knew for certain was that he needed more coffee. With a refilled mug, he headed upstairs.

"Tim?" He asked, softly knocking on the door. "You up?"

"Yeah, come on in."

"You okay?" Gibbs asked as he opened the door, noticing Tim sitting on the chair Gibbs had occupied the previous night.

"Yeah, I'm good. You?"

"Great," Gibbs replied, holding up his mug. "Thanks for making the coffee."

"No problem, something told me that I probably wouldn't want to talk to you without it."

Gibbs looked at him with a slight smile. "Were you told anything else?" he asked.

Tim scrunched his nose, "Nothing too important."

"Anything you remember is important," Gibbs argued.

Tim snorted derisively, "Everything I think I remember seems to be wrong. How do I know how to proceed? I woke up this morning and one of the first things I noticed was how quiet it was. Was that because I have loud neighbors? Or because I woke up naturally this morning and not due to an annoying alarm or music blaring to get me up? Or perhaps it's because your house is in a quieter neighborhood?"

Gibbs silently took another sip of his coffee, waiting, hoping for Tim to continue.

"I don't know what it is, or even if there really is something," the younger man frustratingly added. "Maybe it's always been that quiet and it's always bugged me. I have no way of knowing and it's driving me crazy. I don't know anything! Walking around my apartment didn't really trigger any memories. There weren't many personal photo's on my phone to do that either; the music on my phone mostly left me feeling sick or depressed; talking with you guys only has me more confused. The only thing I remember clearly is that damn dog, that is, according to everyone else, apparently now my dog, viciously attacking me," Tim huffed. "How messed up is that? How messed up is my life that no one, other than my coworkers seem to notice or care that I was in an accident?"

Gibbs stared at Tim, unsure what to say. He expected his agent to get frustrated with the situation, he just hadn't expected it to be so soon. Softly, he said as much. "I understand," Gibbs quietly added, "I've been there. It seems like the first memories that came back to me, were the worst ones of my life. But Tim, it hasn't even been 24 hours, yet. I know you don't want to hear this, but regaining your memories will take time, more than just a day," he cheekily added. "As for no one else caring," he shrugged, "Most probably aren't aware of the accident. Working as we do, your friends and family members, are probably used to you being incommunicado for a few days. No doubt, they'll mark it up to being involved in a hot case."

Tim absently nodded, hearing the sense in those words.

"Are you sure you don't want me contacting your family?"

Before Gibbs could even finish the question, Tim was shaking his head.

"No…I…they…my father…no," he finally repeated, his tone firm.

Gibbs nodded his understanding, agreeing to abide by his agent's wishes for now.

"Why don't you come downstairs and get some food?" Gibbs suggested. "As much as we would like to live on coffee alone, it really isn't possible."

Tim shrugged, dismissing the offer, "Nah, I think I'll stay here, maybe I can figure something out."

"You really should eat something."

"I did, besides, I'm really not that hungry."

Gibbs looked at his agent. He had once said that Tim McGee didn't know how to lie, it was something that he had believed, but did it hold true for this Tim McGee?

As if reading his thoughts, McGee met his eyes, one of his hands waving towards bureau where two pieces of toast, one of them missing a few bites, sat on a napkin. "I made some toast, and I promise that I'm good. I just really need to figure some things out right now. If I need anything, I know where the kitchen is and I'm sure I'll be able to find you."

Gibbs repressed the sigh, "If you're sure," he began, already receiving a nod before he finished speaking. "Okay, then. I'll be downstairs if you change your mind, or even just want some company." Repressing another sigh, he turned and headed back down to the kitchen. Part of him would love to work in his basement, but was afraid that McGee wouldn't think to look for him down there if he needed anything.

Once Tim was sure his boss wasn't lingering in the hallway outside his door, Tim groaned as he sunk back into the chair. He couldn't believe he said all that. Well, he thought, trying to be optimistic, at least he didn't mention having memories of his father comforting him last night. Tim snorted, no doubt if he had, Gibbs and Dr. Mallard would begin processing paperwork to have him admitted for a psych evaluation. Still, it seemed so real, but he knew it wasn't, it couldn't be. Even if you dismissed the fact that Admiral McGee was at sea, and Tim was in Virginia, at his boss's house, there was the fact that his father had never comforted him. Not even when he was a kid. Still, the feeling of his father rubbing his back and reassuring him that he was safe wouldn't leave him. While he knows that it wasn't real, he really wished that it had been. It would've been nice to have someone comfort and support him right now.

Of course, this outburst was another reason to avoid Gibbs. For some reason, just being in the man's presence made him want to confess all his secrets, which was scary, considering Tim himself wasn't even aware of all his secrets.

Getting up from the chair, Tim moved back to the bed, maybe he'll give osmosis another shot, it had as good a chance as working as anything else.

Gibbs stood in the open doorway surreptitiously watching his agent. Tim was laying on the bed, eyes closed, his face directed towards the ceiling. One hand was under his head, and the other pressed to his chest as if trying to control his breathing. Gibbs blinked as his eyes once more scanned his agent. He was pretty sure that those were tear marks on the younger man's face. Before Gibbs knew what he was doing, his hand rapped on the door and he took a step forward, giving the impression that he was just arriving.

"Hey, Tim, lunch," he said as the younger man sat up.

"I'm really not hungry," Tim replied after a few seconds of silence, not even turning his head to look at the other man.

"Tough," his boss retorted, noticing the toast still sitting on top of the bureau. "You didn't really eat breakfast and Ducky will have my ass if I let you survive on just coffee."

Tim shook his head, not believing for a second that the man in front of him was afraid of Dr. Mallard.

"Gibbs,"

"Look, we can do this two ways," Gibbs interrupted McGee's plea. "You can come downstairs now and eat with me, or I can take you back to the hospital. They don't like it when someone refuses to eat."

Tim's eyes narrowed as he stared at the older man. He doubted the hospital would admit him because of two missed meals, but he didn't doubt that Gibbs would try to follow through on his threat.

Gibbs returned his look, raising one of his eyebrows as if asking, 'well, which is it gonna be?'

Rolling his eyes, Tim acquiesced to the request of lunching together.

"Good," A smug grin replied, before turning to walk downstairs. "I'll expect you sitting at the table in the kitchen in three minutes."

Three minutes and five seconds later, Tim entered the kitchen.

"Sit," Gibbs ordered, well aware of the time, but also suspecting it was done purposely in protest and therefore, not worth mentioning. He had learned long ago to pick his battles.

"This looks good, you didn't have to go to all this trouble," Tim stiffly commented, as he followed directions and sat down in front of a full plate. "Thank you."

"It wasn't any trouble," Gibbs replied before both men fell silent as they ate.

"This is very good, thank you," Tim repeated, "And I hope you didn't go to all this trouble for me," he added, waving a hand at the elaborate meal. "I would've been fine with soup or sandwiches."

"Eh, no big deal," Gibbs said, not looking up from his plate.

"No big deal?" Tim scoffed, "This is more food than I had at Thanksgiving last year."

Gibbs gave a slight pause at the mention of the past, wondering what else his companion had remembered. "You didn't go home to see your family?" he asked, finally looking up.

Tim shook his head, "I haven't been home for the holidays for several years now."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow, "Your parents' must hate that," he casually murmured, hoping to keep the conversation flowing. Not only was Tim remembering, but he was sharing things with him.

"I call my mom on the holidays," Tim offered as explanation. "I also try to talk to her every couple of weeks, schedule permitting."

"And the rest of your family? Do you call them regularly as well?"

"Not really," he admitted, giving a shrug. "Don't really need to. Sarah usually calls me or stops by, especially when she needs something," he added, giving a laugh. "Penny and I usually keep in touch via e-mail. She's always traveling and with time zones…" he trailed off, not needing to say anything else.

Gibbs nodded in understanding, waiting for Tim to continue, after all, he hadn't mentioned his father yet.

"Anyway, as I said, this is really good, but you don't have to wait on me like this or prepare so much food."

"I didn't,"

Tim scoffed and looked at the table. "Well, again, thank you."

"No need to thank me,"

Tim frowned, "You-"

"Not me. I just reheated what Ziva had prepped last night," Gibbs finally explained, smirking at Tim's look of surprise. "I told you it wasn't any trouble."

Tim snorted, before adding, "I'll have to thank her, she didn't have to do all this."

"No, she didn't," Gibbs agreed, looking at Tim as he added, "But she wanted to and I'm sure she'll appreciate the thank you."

Tim nodded, making sure not to comment since he wasn't sure what would come out of his mouth right now. He also made sure not to make eye contact with the older man; Tim wouldn't put it past the agent to be able to read his mind. "You know, there really is no reason why I can't return to my apartment."

"There are two," Gibbs corrected, before elaborating, "Me and Ducky."

Tim rolled his eyes, "Dr. Mallard,"

"Ducky,"

"Can stop by my place to check on me as easily as he stops by here," he continued ignoring the correction.

"And me?"

"Wouldn't have me impose on you anymore, could return to work doing something that really matters and can easily get updates from Ducky or call me to see how I'm doing," Tim offered.

"Ah, but then I'll be missing out on all this food," Gibbs said, waving his hand and indicating the feast before them.

Tim snorted, "Is it worth it? I mean, not only are you missing work and stuck here watching me try to remember things, which has to be as exciting as watching paint dry," Tim pointedly added, "but you have everyone traipsing all over your house. I promise, I'll be perfectly fine at home and will contact you or Dr. Mal-Ducky," he corrected when Gibbs stared at him, "If that changes."

"Not gonna happen," Gibbs firmly informed his agent.

"Why not?" Tim asked. "I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself."

"Said the guy who wasn't going to eat until I threatened him with a trip to the hospital," Gibbs dryly commented.

"I would've eaten," he replied. "I just wasn't hungry when you called me."

Gibbs gave a him a skeptical look before shifting his gaze to the plate opposite himself that had been loaded with food earlier and now sat empty.

"I really wasn't, but it tasted good and I wouldn't want it to go to waste."

"Uh-huh," came the patronizing reply. "Still not going to let you go. You'll be staying with me until it's decided otherwise," he firmly stated, meeting Tim's eyes.

"Ugh," A disappointed Tim growled; there was no doubt in his mind that Gibbs considered the conversation over and the subject closed. Tim knew that technically he couldn't be held here against his will, but he also knew that leaving on his own would make things very uncomfortable when he returned to work or next saw the older man.

A moment later, he lifted his head up and noisily pushed away from the table. He wanted to escape into his room upstairs where he could forget about Gibbs and this conversation, but knew the polite thing to do would be to help with the clean-up. He struggled for a minute, part of him wanting to leave it for Gibbs, hoping that if the older man realized the extra work that came from having Tim staying there, he would change his mind. With a groan he realized how immature and adolescent that behavior would be, something that definitely wouldn't help his case to return to his own apartment, and began to clean up the remnants of their lunch before heading back upstairs to his room.

"Good afternoon, Jethro," Ducky cheerfully greeted as he entered Gibbs's house and headed to the kitchen where his friend was sitting in silent contemplation, a mug of coffee held in his hands. "Where is our patient today?" he asked as he sat down in the chair across from his host.

"Upstairs."

"What is he doing?" the curious doctor asked.

Gibbs shrugged, "Probably sleeping again." The few times he had checked on Tim, both before and after lunch, it seemed like that was all the younger man was doing.

Ducky frowned, "There should not be any reason for fatigue."

Gibbs briefly raised his eyes to meet his friend's before lowering them back to the tabletop, "I'm worried, Duck," he softly admitted.

Startled by his companion's words, the Medical Examiner started to rise, "Mayhap I should go-"

"Not yet," Gibbs interrupted, shaking his head and continuing when the older man didn't move. "Sit, he's fine for now."

"Jethro, if he is not doing well or is in pain, I really should check on him."

Another shake of the head met his words. "Physically, he's fine; Mentally…" Gibbs trailed off.

Reluctantly, Ducky sat down, knowing Jethro wouldn't continue if he was hovering. "Why are you worried?" he finally asked after several minutes had passed without his friend speaking.

"He had a nightmare last night." Ducky nodded upon hearing those words, not completely surprised by that information. "I dozed off on the couch earlier this morning after he settled back down. When I woke up about an hour later, I knew McGee had already been up, coffee was made," he added, responding to the other's man's inquiring look, "I went upstairs to check on him, to see if he ate something and get him to do so, if the answer was no, as I suspected."

"Thank you," the doctor murmured, grateful the junior agent was being cared for.

Jethro shook his head, not willing to accept the thanks since he had failed at that task. "He was very pensive at first before blurting out his anger and frustration at the situation," Gibbs stated before communicating what his agent had said.

Ducky hummed as he thought about this situation, "Was his nightmare about his accident?"

"I don't think so," Jethro replied. "Neither one of us mentioned his nightmare, but from what I overheard, I don't think so."

Ducky nodded, "It could just be memories returning," he offered. "I say to give it, and Timothy some time."

Gibbs groaned; boats he could be patient with, but when it came to a troubled member of his team, not so much.

"I just…I hate feeling so damn helpless, not knowing what to do," he admitted. "I'm really afraid we're going to lose him, he seems so…lost," he finally finished, hoping the amateur psychologist would understand and grasp the entire situation.

"Jethro, it's only been a day," the medical examiner reminded him. "It's natural for him to be angry and frustrated."

"Despondent and depressed as well?" Gibbs sarcastically added.

"Actually, yes," Ducky confirmed. "He will experience stages similar to what one goes through during grief."

"Then I was right, he shouldn't be alone," Gibbs commented, "Especially since he admitted that as a concern during his outburst."

"He isn't alone," Ducky argued. "He has you, me, the team," he explained, waiting to see how his friend responded.

"He tried to convince me that he would be okay moving back to his apartment," Gibbs dryly commented.

"In a few days, that could happen. Being in a familiar surrounding could help his memories return."

"And if they don't?"

Ducky frowned, "Help or return?"

With a shrug, Gibbs added, "Both, but especially the latter?"

"It is a possibility," the ME sadly noted. "If that does happen, we will have to help him the best we can to pick up and carry on from where he is now."

The two men fell silent as they thought about the worse-case scenario for the current situation.

"I'm thinking about contacting his family," Gibbs suddenly announced, breaking the silence between the two. "What do you think?"

"What did Timothy say about that?"

"Not too," Gibbs reluctantly admitted.

"Then there is your answer."

Surely if Ducky knew how McGee responded to Gibbs during the nightmare, as well as when he first caught sight of the older man in the hospital, he would agree that having Tim's family here would be beneficial for the young man. Opening his mouth, Gibbs tried to protest, "But he needs-"

"Not his family," Ducky firmly stated. "Maybe if they lived closer, or if we've seen them around before when Timothy had been injured, but not now when he has unequivocally stated he doesn't want them contacted. We don't know the details about those relationships, and he might not remember everything either, which would probably only complicate a tenuous relationship."

Before Gibbs could argue his point, Ducky continued, "You are always going on about your gut, well, right now, Timothy, and his gut, is saying not to contact his family. Don't disregard that." Shaking his head, Ducky added, "If you do, I am afraid the distrust that will develop between the two from you ignoring his request will make you lose him."

Gibbs sighed in resignation, losing Tim's trust is the only reason was why he hadn't already contacted the McGee's. His hope had been that Ducky would recommend the action, giving him a valid reason to proceed. "He needs somebody," Jethro admitted, remembering his own battle with amnesia. "The question is who? Nothing against DiNozzo, but I can't imagine him helping Tim right now."

"No, I imagine not," Ducky agreed. "Anthony's not one for sitting around waiting for answers. Though I imagine he would be very good at distracting Timothy from thinking about it."

Gibbs snorted, "Only until the situation reminded him of a movie."

The doctor smiled. "Abigail and Timothy probably know each other the best," he commented.

"He mistook Abby for his sister," Gibbs informed his friend dryly.

"Perhaps not Abigail, then," Ducky conceded, his upturned lips showing his amusement.

Gibbs sighed, "Of the team, that leaves Ziva."

"Is that a problem?" The Medical Examiner inquired.

"Potentially," Gibbs admitted, thinking about the actions of the two youngest members of his team. "Something is going on. McGee alternates between seeking Ziva out, following her with his eyes, and avoiding looking at her in the eye. It could be that, similar to the situation with myself and Abby, he confused her for someone else.

"Ziva," he continued, releasing a deep breath, "She…yesterday, she started acting very differently regarding Timothy."

Ducky gave his friend a searching look, "Perhaps it is just concern, after all, he had been in an accident and has amnesia."

"Perhaps," he repeated, his tone tinged with doubt.

"There is another option," Ducky hinted a few minutes later, when his friend didn't say another word regarding the situation regarding Ziva and Timothy.

"Who?" Gibbs asked with a frown, "You? Jimmy? You definitely have the patience and expertise to help," he readily agreed.

"No, you," an amused Ducky corrected. "You are here and Timothy has already shared a bit of what he was thinking and feeling with you," he pointed out.

Gibbs snorted, "And mostly locked himself in his room since then, didn't even want to join me for lunch."

"But he did, right?" Ducky stated gleefully.

"Only because I threatened him with a trip back to the hospital if he couldn't take care of himself."

Ducky hid his smile, "Timothy probably knew it was an empty threat. The hospital does not admit patients for one…or even two missed meals," he added when Gibbs opened his mouth to argue. "I am sure Timothy's reluctance was due to his embarrassment at his earlier outburst."

"And you think that's a good basis for me to be the one to help him?" Jethro asked in disbelief. "Ducky, over lunch he tried very hard to get me to agree that he could move back to his apartment on his own. Kept talking about not wanting to impose on me."

Ducky blinked, "He has only been here for one day."

"Yeah, and apparently, he can't wait to leave. I don't know why you think that I can be the one to help him."

Ducky shrugged, "Because of his outburst, you are already aware of how he feels and, I have no doubt that at lunch, you didn't make a big deal out of either his feelings or the outburst itself. Could we say the same about Anthony or Abigail?"

Gibbs hmphed, but didn't comment.

"What if he had a similar outburst with one of them, Ziva or any combination of the three? Do you really think that would be beneficial for his recovery? Regardless of what he remembers, he is still the same Timothy McGee we knew."

"Yes and no," Gibbs said, causing the older man to blink since he hadn't expected the other man to comment. After all, Gibbs was known for his silence.

"What does that mean?"

Gibb sighed, trying it figure out how to explain what he observed. "He's the same, but he's also different," he finally began. "He's still polite; at lunch, after I told him that he was staying here until it was decided otherwise, he stayed to help clean up, even though I am sure he wanted to storm off."

"Anything else?"

"He's not…monitoring or censoring himself. He reacts to other's comments and words,"

"One could always read Timothy's thoughts in his expression," Ducky commented.

Gibbs shook his head, "It's not just that. He verbally reacts to them. He's honest, sarcastic, and even openly laughing if he disagrees."

Ducky shrugged, "Perhaps with so much else going on, he decided that it wasn't worth the effort or energy it would take to, as you say, monitor himself."

"Maybe; still, it's a bit strange to hear," Gibbs admitted. "It also seems like he's developed a rebellious streak. Like that of a toddler or teenager."

"Really now?"

Gibbs did a double take, it sounded like Ducky was pleased about that. "Is that a good thing?"

"It could be," Ducky shrugged. "He could be trying to exert control over his life where he can, since he might feel everything is out of his control; pushing things to see what he can get away with; testing to see if you really care; or any numerous reasons we haven't thought about."

Gibbs groaned, "Great, a mystery to solve."

Ducky simply smirked in reply.

Gibbs eyes narrowed suspiciously, "But why is that a good thing?"

"I am glad you asked," the doctor gloated. "He is probably reacting like that because he has internalized feelings and stress that he needs to release."

"Well, yeah, Duck, he kinda forgot most of his adult life," came the sharply worded reply.

"There is also the strong possibility that it could also mean that he feels comfortable with you to act like that," Ducky concluded. "That he trusts you."

"He doesn't remember me," Gibbs protested, "How could he trust me?"

Ducky smiled, "It could be a couple of things. Like the fact that once having amnesia yourself, you understand better than anyone else what he might be going through. It could also be that subconsciously, part of him does remember you. Because of these two things, I am sure that he feels that he can trust you."

Suspecting that Jethro didn't know how to respond, Ducky continued, "I say give it, and yourself, a chance. As I said, he will be following steps similar to that of the stages of grief. He already began it with you, let him continue on that path."

Gibbs didn't verbally comment, but met Ducky eyes, letting the older man know that he would do as asked.

"Good," Ducky gleefully replied as he rose from his chair and exited the kitchen to go check on his patient. Perhaps it is not just Timothy that will be healed because of this.

After knocking and receiving permission to enter, Ducky greeted his patient, "Listen to anymore music?"

Tim smiled, "Not really, a bit afraid of what else I might find on my phone, if I'm being truthful."

"I understand," the older man commiserated. "So, what have you been doing, then?"

Tim snorted, "I'm sure Gibbs has already given you an earful."

"Only to help you," Ducky replied, moving to the chair that now resided in the corner. "Jethro is not one to gossip or spread tales. Anything he said to me, he did so to assist you. I can tell you what he did say," Ducky stated, before continuing, "He admitted to me that he was worried about you."

Tim snorted, "No doubt because of my outburst this morning."

"Yes, and no," the older man tilted his head. "Having been there himself, he, unlike the rest of us, understands you better. He's worried because of how you are trying to isolate yourself. I heard you wanted to go back to your apartment?"

Tim shrugged, "Don't want to impose on him."

"Trust me, he will tell you if that is the case," Ducky offered. "He's feeling rather useless. There isn't a criminal he can track down and shoot. There are no leads to follow, no one to interview to get more information. He wants to help, but doesn't know how he can, especially when you keep your distance."

"It's not like he can help if I'm sitting next to him."

"Maybe not, but maybe he could," Ducky ambiguously replied. "Of course, he could probably help more if you talked with him," he hinted not so subtly.

Tim rolled his eyes.

"What have you got to lose?" Ducky challenged.

"My pride," Tim muttered. "I think I embarrassed myself in front of him enough."

"You mean because of this morning?" Ducky dubiously asked.

"Not just then, but at the hospital as well," Tim admitted, remembering the scene as if it happened yesterday, because, well, it did. Tim shook his head to clear the memory, and listened to what Dr. Mallard saying.

"Being embarrassed is nothing to be embarrassed about," Ducky smirked as the younger man groaned at his choice of words. "Jethro will not make a production out of anything that happens, whether it be embarrassing moments because of your emotions regarding this situation, things mistakenly remembered, or revealed secrets."

Tim nodded, believing that. He had been sure Gibbs had heard his whispered word when first entering his room, the subtle look behind him for someone else gave that away, yet the older man hadn't commented on it, not then or now, a day later.

"As I said before, he simply wants to help you. The team is like a family, let him be there for you."

"And the others?" Tim asked before he could stop himself.

Ducky smiled, "They want to be there for you as well. Will you let them?"

"I…" Tim hesitated, he wanted to feel connected to them, yet at the same time, most of his memories regarding the others on the team involves them teasing him. He just wasn't sure if he wanted to be around them right now, not with how vulnerable he was feeling. "Yeah, of course," he finally replied. After all, they were his coworkers, his team, he had to be around them sometime.

"Good," Ducky replied, his tone reminiscent of his parting comment to Gibbs. "Now, I've noticed you've done some furniture rearranging," he said, patting the arm of the chair he was sitting in.

"I don't think that was me," Tim admitted. "I mean, I know I'm having trouble remembering things, but I really don't remember doing it. I woke up and noticed that it had been moved. If it was me, then it was a case of sleep furniture moving."

"Somehow, I don't see you as an interior designer," Ducky dryly replied.

"Yeah," Tim agreed, "From what I saw of my apartment, I'm probably on par with Gibbs on that skill."

At the mention of the other man, Ducky's eyes held a knowing gleam.

"What?" Tim questioned.

"I just realized who moved the chair and why."

"Wh-Gibbs?" Tim questioned, cutting off his initial question as he realized the who for himself. Of course, it would've been the only other person in the house. Tim shook his head in disbelief, he really should've figured that out sooner. He was seriously doubting his professional skills again. "But why?"

"To keep an eye on you."

That response had Tim frowning, "He was that worried about me?"

"No, well, yes, in a way," came the mixed response. "If you really want to know, I suggest you ask him…perhaps while the two of you share dinner?"

"Perhaps," Tim echoed, not agreeing to anything.

Suspecting that Timothy wouldn't say more, Ducky started the next part of the exam now that the mental health check portion had been completed.

"Well, you seem to be doing very well," Dr. Mallard stated after Timothy's physical exam was concluded. An exam that included multiple tangents because Ducky was constantly reminded of something. "I'll be back to check on you tomorrow."

"You don't have to go to any trouble, I'm sure I'll be fine," Tim hastened to reassure the older man.

"I am positive of that as well," Ducky confidently agreed. "It is no trouble and I would like to see you, if you do not mind humoring an old man."

Tim hesitated, not sure how to reply.

"I was hoping we could continue our chats," Ducky stated, "It is not often I have someone so willing to listen to my stories, especially someone so successful and who appears to enjoy them."

Tim frowned, that comment raising a few questions. "Jimmy listens and enjoys them."

Ducky's eyebrows rose, "You remember Mr. Palmer."

"I…yeah, I guess I do," Tim confirmed, smiling for the first time since this conversation started. "Um, why hasn't he stopped by?" Tim asked. "Aren't we friends?"

"Someone had to man the fort, so to speak," Ducky stated, "And since I was in charge, I decided that it should be him. I am sure he would be willing to drop by and see you this weekend if you are up for company," he added.

"I…yeah," Tim said. "I think I'll drive myself crazy just sitting up here thinking about what I don't remember."

"Ah, but you won't be remaining up here, will you?" Ducky commented. "I believe has told you that you have free reign of the house."

Tim shrugged and looked away, "Doesn't really seem right invading someone else's personal space."

"If he minded, he wouldn't have brought you here," Ducky shared. "As I said earlier, the team is like family."

"Still…" Tim hesitated.

"Well, there is only one way to settle this," he declared, looking at Tim expectantly.

Tim hesitantly asked, "How?"

"By talking to Jethro," he cheerfully announced. "Preferably,"

"Over dinner," Tim said dryly, in sync with the doctor.

"You always were a smart one," Ducky replied. "I have no doubt you will do the right thing."

"Yeah," Tim replied, not really committing to anything.

6-26-2021

thanks to everyone who reads/reviews. I would love to know what you think...
Will Tim get his way and return to his apartment?
Will Tim and Gibbs talk more at dinner?
How does the rest of the team act when they stop by again?
Does Tim's family find out what happened?

A/N: thank you to everyone who has been patiently waiting for an update to this and my other stories. I've spent some of the last year still writing, so hopefully will be updating somewhat regularly. I wanted to have the fics completed before I update, but realized that I just kept going over and over the same sections, so decided to post them to keep myself from constantly changing things.

A/N 2 (personal): This has been a tough year, not just because of covid, quarantine, and isolation with six people in the house, making it hard to find a quiet place to write, but also because my mom was recently diagnosed with skin cancer (pretty bad case, her right ear is 'missing'; it looked like a wild animal bit it off) and I've been taking care of her, appointments, surgery, after surgery care, as well as other medical concerns. Oh well...always something, right?