Standard disclaimer applies; Not beta'd

No Accident Chapter 13, Seriously, Tim?/Why?!

Despite Ducky's reminder that Tim had free reign of the house, the younger man remained in the room allocated to him. He didn't feel right wandering around his boss's house. Tim paused and closed his eyes as another flash of memory came to him. Tim groaned after the memory retreated. No wonder why he was so opposed to snooping, he knew exactly how it would feel, since his teammates had done it to him, Tony having done so multiple times. Shaking his head, Tim wondered what made Tony think that that was acceptable behavior. Even as an adult, Tim could imagine the admiral's reaction if he had ever heard of his son doing such a thing.

Leaning back against the bed, his gaze once more drifted to the moved chair. Given the choice between himself moving the chair in his sleep, or Gibbs doing so, Tim's money was on the latter. Even if he couldn't imagine someone caring so much about him that they would check on him in the middle of the night, it still made more sense than the former option. Tim mentally berated himself for even thinking he had moved it himself while sleeping in the first place. He was beginning to think that the Admiral was right and he was an idiot.

Sighing, Tim looked around the room once more, hoping for something that would distract him from thinking about what else the doctor had said. His gaze locked on the books he had placed on the small table by the bed. Picking them up, he read the titles and authors. All of them sounded familiar, the last one even more so. Sighing, he put them back down, he didn't think he was in the mood for fictional crime at the moment. There was also the issue that if Dr. Mallard had talked to Gibbs like he did McGee, then there was a chance the older man might come upstairs to talk.

Tim cringed as he realized that the only thing left to distract him was his phone. It had actual been silent all day, no calls or text messages from family or friends. He thought about checking his email, but figured most of those would probably be spam-related, since known contacts would probably use the aforementioned means to communicate with him. He already knew that the pictures on his phone didn't help, nor did most of the apps he had available, which left the music file as his only hope. Reluctantly, he opened that file. Learning from his previous mistake, rather than hitting shuffle/play all, he looked at the various playlists. He snorted as he read some of the names. 'Dated', 'Date', 'Boring,' 'More boring', 'Why?!', 'Geeky', and 'Seriously, Tim?'

"Yeah, that doesn't help much," he muttered to himself. Opening the first playlist he recognized a lot of songs he remembered being from the 80's and 90's. Why he didn't just name the file as that, he didn't know, no doubt he was trying, and failing, to be clever. Closing that list, he decided to skip the one called 'date', figuring it was probably similar. After reviewing 'Boring' and 'More boring' and playing a few songs, he realized that both of them contained jazz, the latter, completely instrumental. Part of him was worried to open the list marked 'Why?!'; since apparently he wasn't even sure why he had included those songs. Surprisingly, they seemed to be upbeat, fast-paced songs, similar to what one might play while running or working out. Based on the song and artist list, the next file contained music from movies and tv shows. He wasn't sure why he might need the theme to Dr. Who, Star Trek, Star Wars, or Harry Potter on his phone, but at least he could understand this title, even if in his current mindset he might've labeled this one as 'why'. He frowned as another thought came to him. Maybe he hadn't named the playlists. Or at least hadn't given them their current names. He briefly wondered if Tony would've had time to do so recently, or if it had been done a while ago and Tim just hadn't bothered to change them back. Opening up the last playlist that questioned his intent, Tim was very grateful that he had decided to peruse the list before hitting play. This was where the headache inducing song from yesterday had been stored. According to the artists list, a couple of similar songs were also on his phone. Resisting the urge to delete the entire playlist, Tim closed out of it, after making sure that each of those songs would only play by specific request. Wanting to get that songlist out of his head, Tim opened up the earlier skipped list. Some of the songs were old, including Elton John, 'Don't go breaking my heart' and the song he was listening to yesterday when Dr. Mallard arrived, but others he was pretty sure were newer. Some he was sure he had never heard of, ie: David Archuleta, 'Crush'. One thing they all seemed to have in common was a theme. Love.

In Tim's opinion, that was another file that could've or should've been labeled 'Why?'. Why would he need a couple of dozen songs about love? No doubt, Tony had a 'seduction' playlist, but Tim couldn't imagine having one for himself. Unfortunately, that just gave more credence to the theory that someone had messed with his playlists. Absently hitting 'play' he could only hope that someday he would find out who had done so and why.

Gibbs paused, one foot hovering over the first step that would take him to the second floor of his house and the room that Timothy McGee was still hiding himself in. He had automatically headed for the stairs to inform McGee that dinner was ready, but now he wondered if it would be easier for Tim to refuse him in person or yelling down the stairs. Then again, it was him staring at Tim, and threatening him with a stay at the hospital that had worked to get him to come down for lunch, even if he had returned to his room the minute everything had been cleaned up.

Of course, before he left, Ducky had hinted that Gibbs shouldn't be surprised if Tim joined him for dinner and was more talkative.

"Why the hell not," Gibbs muttered to himself before calling up the stairs, "Tim, dinner." If it didn't work, then he could climb up the stairs and drag McGee down.

Silence greeted his words as Gibbs began heading back to the kitchen, hoping his agent would join him without too much trouble.

"Tim, dinner."

Tim startled at those words, automatically pausing the music as those words carried up the stairs. Once he realized what they meant, he was torn between racing downstairs to obey the unspoken command or hiding from his boss.

On the one hand, he was a bit hungry. Not starving, but he could definitely eat. But on the other hand, he had a feeling that like Ducky, Gibbs expected conversation during this meal, and not conversation about the weather. He had gotten away without talking at lunch and had escaped as soon as possible, somehow, Tim didn't think he would be able to repeat that at dinner.

Groaning he realized that most likely he didn't have a choice. After all, he was staying in the man's house, Gibbs could come up and talk with him at any time. Tim might as well seem willing, not to mention that it would be rude not to join him after Gibbs went to the trouble of making dinner. However, before he could open his mouth to tell Gibbs he was coming, or even physically move to head downstairs, Gibbs's voice called out again.

"C'mon, McGee. You don't want Ziva's hard work to go to waste, do ya?"

"Ziva? Is she here?" Tim automatically questioned, his voice a bit higher and squeakier than normal. He wasn't really sure if he wanted to see Ziva, he was still a bit embarrassed about how he reacted yesterday at the hospital. "Stupid Tony," he muttered. Tim knew that it wasn't really the other man's fault, after all, Tim had made similar assumptions regarding Gibbs and Abby, but he also knew that if Tony hadn't confirmed his idea of being involved with a brunette that he worked with, he might have been a bit more cautious. Tim closed his eyes, he might as well go down and see her, it's going to happen eventually, on the plus side, he would get to eat some of her cooking, last night's dinner was really good.

"No, she left something we could reheat for dinner tonight. She was pretty confident that we would like it."

"Oh," Tim acknowledged, not sure how he feels about Ziva's not being there.

"You coming?"

"I…uh…yeah," Tim agreed before heading to the bathroom to wash up before joining the older man in the kitchen.

As they plated their food and began to eat, the room remained silent, except for Gibbs telling him about the dish Ziva had made.

"This is good," Tim murmured. "I'll definitely have to give my compliments to the chef when I see her."

"I'm sure she'll appreciate it," Gibbs replied, before the two once more fell into an uncomfortable silence.

Tim knew he should say something, but was tentative since he wasn't sure where it could lead to. Tim awkwardly pushed the food around on his plate, feeling Gibbs's gaze on him as the older man ate the food on his plate.

"Dr. Mallard told me that you were worried about me," Tim finally said, breaking the silence.

"I was, am," Gibbs confirmed.

"Why? In what way?"

Gibbs met his eyes, "I get that you are frustrated and angry about the current situation. Hell, I understand, I've been there. I also know how I reacted. I worry that you might do the same."

Tim frowned, not really remembering all the details of Gibbs's amnesia, "I don't really remember…" he began, trailing off. It seemed wrong to ask for details from Gibbs.

His boss gave him a sad, half smile. "I lost about twenty years," he began. "I had been caught in an explosion in connection to one of our cases. When I woke up, I thought I was an active Marine injured from an explosion that occurred in Dessert Storm."

Tim grimaced, that was a very big difference.

"Yeah," Gibbs muttered, suspecting what Tim was thinking. "During the time I served, I was married and had an 8-year-old daughter."

Tim startled at those words, his heart clenching as he imagined what might have happened, after all, he hadn't heard any mention of Gibbs having a wife or daughter.

"Once more, I had to be informed about their deaths. I also had important, crucial information relating to our case locked inside my mind. I was trying to remember everything about the case before it was too late, while at the same time, grieve once again for my family.

"Let's just say I didn't handle it well," Gibbs dryly stated. "I remembered what I could, told the Director, SecNav, everyone who needed to know, but nothing was acted on. In my anger and frustration at the situation, both regarding the case and my personal situation, as well as the grief I was feeling, I quit my job and ran away to Mexico for several months, not really keeping in contact with anyone."

"I...wow," Tim muttered, speechless at everything his boss had gone through.

"Yeah."

"But you came back," Tim finally said, waving a hand at him. "So, things ended up okay, right?"

Gibbs shrugged, "I definitely didn't make things easy, on myself, or anyone else. And I definitely didn't handle coming back in the right way either." At Tim's inquiring look, Gibbs shook his head, "That's another issue for another time," he said, not willing to go into that part of the story, especially since he didn't think it was relevant to Tim's current situation.

"And you're afraid I'm gonna do something like that?"

His boss seemed to nod and shrug at the same time, "Don't really know what you're thinking or feeling. Hell, I never seem to know what you are thinking," he dryly admitted. "What I do know is that you are capable of almost anything. I don't want to lose you, especially not because of something like this, something that can be prevented."

"How?" Tim asked, "How can it be prevented?"

Gibbs hesitated, with the old Tim McGee, Gibbs could just say what Tim needed to do and he would do it, but this Tim? The Tim that didn't remember working with him for the last five years? He suspected Tim would need more than just the bottom line. "I know the reasons why I left. It wasn't just to deal with my grief, or my anger over the information I shared being ignored. It was because I didn't feel connected to anything or anyone around me once I remembered that Shannon and Kelly were gone. I didn't feel connected because I didn't want to feel connected. I wouldn't let myself rely on anyone. I wouldn't let them help me, I didn't trust them to have my back. I wasn't honest with what was going on inside of me.

"I didn't ever want to feel that grief again; the best way to make sure I didn't was to not care about anyone or anything. No doubt I caused those around me to feel more grief, to go through more than if I had died. Help was there," Gibbs admitted. "My father was still alive; My old mentor was willing to help; I had coworkers that I had known for over a decade; members of my team that I had trusted to watch my back on the field. Things could've been different, if I had behaved differently.

"How can it be prevented?" Gibbs repeated Tim's earlier question, "By you letting me, us, help you. By trusting us to have your back. By you being honest and open about what you are thinking, feeling, going through."

After Gibbs finished speaking, Tim remained silent, overwhelmed by what was being asked of him.

"It won't be easy, in fact, if you are anything like me, it will probably take everything you have to fight against your instinct for flight. All I'm asking for is that you fight. Give us a chance."

Once more, Tim remained silent, this time, Gibbs didn't begin speaking again, but instead, just kept his gaze on the younger man.

"I don't know," Tim finally began, shaking his head. "I don't think trust ever came easy to me, not on a personal level. I don't know if it's gonna be possible, not with what I'm remembering."

"Memories aren't always black and white," Gibbs informed his agent. "They can be misread."

Tim snorted, "Trust me, I know."

"Right, your sister, Abby," Gibbs said, grinning.

"Not just her," Tim whispered, looking at the older man, causing both of them to remember their meeting at the hospital the previous day.

Tim's eyes were glued to the door, hoping that someone would come and make everything better. He wasn't sure what was taking so long, all he knew was that he hated laying in this hospital bed.

Gibbs opened the door to catch his first look at his agent who had been in the accident and was now laying in a hospital bed.

At the sight of the somewhat familiar man, Tim whispered, in a tone filled with reverence and disbelief, "Dad. You came."

Upon hearing those words, Gibbs paused and subtly looked behind him. Seeing no one there, he attributed McGee's words to either a dream or his mishearing. He entered the room completely, allowing the door to close behind him. He then moved to stand next to the bed.

"Sir?" Tim spoke louder this time, his voice making the words more of a question than a statement.

"How are you feeling, McGee?"

Tim frowned as he wondered who this man was. Obviously, it wasn't his father as he had first thought. He highly doubted his father would refer to him by his surname. Still, he felt compelled to answer, and be honest. "Okay. A bit confused," he admitted.

"So, I hear," Gibbs nodded in reply, noticing the confusion on the younger man's face. "Do you know who I am? Why I'm here?"

Tim allowed his eyes to take in Gibbs's demeanor and stance. "Military," was the succinct reply.

Gibbs smiled, "Retired USMC," he supplied. "Leroy Jethro Gibbs, now with NCIS."

"Jethro," Tim repeated the familiar name. Yet it didn't seem connected to this man. Tim tensed as images flashed across his mind. Black hair in pigtails, Tim was confused about why that name brought forth a woman in pigtails. Light brown hair, no not hair, fur, pointed ears. "Butch," Tim stated in a whisper, his hand instinctively rubbing his neck.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at that word. Of all the things Tim remembered, it was that damn dog attack.

"Your boss," Gibbs concluded, deciding to ignore Tim's whispering, as he had the man's earlier words. "Do you remember what happened?"

Tim closed his eyes, scrunched up is nose, and frowned as he thought. "Car accident," he replied. "Not a bus," he continued with a frown. "Icy, cars sliding."

"Yeah," Gibbs confirmed before going silent to see if McGee had anything else to add.

Another flash of dark hair, this time loose and wild, wavy, no pigtails for this woman. "Anyone else hurt?"

"You veered into the break down lane and hit the guard rail. You didn't hit another car," Gibbs explained.

Tim frowned, since that hadn't answered his question. "Anyone else in the car with me?" He asked, afraid of the answer.

"No, just you," Gibbs responded.

Tim sighed in relief.

Gibbs then explained a bit more about the accident. How another driver had slid on black ice and lost control, hitting McGee before her car stopped. How the impact had gotten McGee sliding on the ice before he had been able to steer the car away from traffic, stopping after a slight collision with the guard rail. There was damage to his vehicle, but it seemed to be mostly body work.

"What else do you remember?" Gibbs asked.

"About the accident?" Tim asked with a frown.

"No, your life."

"I…I don't know," Tim admitted. "I remember a bit as a kid. My mom, my dad who is in the navy?" he said, phrasing it more like a question. "He wasn't home too often. Maybe that's why I only have one sibling and she's much younger than I am," he joked.

Gibbs smiled, glad that Tim remembered his family and was joking about it.

"Penny," Tim continued, his voice filled with affection.

Gibbs straightened up at that name. That was a new name to him. "Your sister?" he innocently asked. He knew she wasn't but by asking not only could he find out who Penny was and if they should get in contact with her, but also confirm what Tim remembers about Sarah.

"Huh?" Tim asked in confusion, looking at Gibbs.

"Penny, is that your sister?"

"No, she's one of my grandmothers," Tim explained.

Gibbs nodded, part of him curious why he referred to his grandmother by her first name and his father by his title before deciding that it wasn't really that important. "Do you want us to contact Penny? Or your family?"

Tim immediately began shaking his head. "I don't think Penny is in the area," he said, scrunching his nose as if trying to remember something. "I think my sister is still in school. The doctor said that I am fine physically. I should fully regain my memories, so, there is no reason to call her."

"Your parents?"

Tim shook his head, "No reason to call them," he repeated.

Gibbs sighed, again wondering what the full story was. Of course, with Tim's memory, it was possible that there wasn't a story. It was also possible that he didn't remember it either, Gibbs realized, deciding to let the matter drop.

"Anyone else I can call?"

Visions of the brunette from earlier flashed through his mind. "I…" Tim faltered, "I don't know," he whispered, before turning his face away.

Gibbs thought about that moment, not sure which was worse, asking for someone who wasn't around, who couldn't be there or not knowing who to ask for.

Gibbs swallowed the lump that had developed in his throat as he thought about whether or not they should talk about it. Perhaps he should also mention last night and Tim's reaction when Gibbs went to check on him during his nightmare? Before he could figure out what to say or how to say it, the younger man started to speak.

"It's just…I need…" Tim paused and closed his eyes, trying to center himself before taking that first step. Gibbs held his breath, hoping that this had worked, that Tim was going to open up and really talk to him. "I-"

"Hello? Anyone home?" A voice called out moments before footsteps could be heard walking across the house. A few seconds later, Tony appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. "Great, we're in time for food!" he yelled over his shoulder, as he walked across the room and grabbed a plate and fork before filling said plate.

Gibbs sighed in resignation, knowing that the moment was gone, even if he was able to get Tony and Ziva to leave immediately.

"Tony!" Ziva hissed, catching the look on Tim's face. "I think we might have interrupted something."

"Yeah, dinner," Tony muttered, stuffing a forkful of food into his mouth. "I'm starving and this is really good."

"I think we should have called first," Ziva said, her gaze flicking between her two coworkers.

Tony pauses and looks between McGee and Gibbs. Tim looked uncomfortable and Gibbs didn't look happy. Not that Gibbs ever really looked happy, Tony thought, but he definitely looked more irritated than usual, and since they didn't have a case or any scumbags to hunt down, that look was probably not a good thing.

"Nah," Tony rebutted, dismissing her concerns. "I think we're just what the doctor ordered," he added, taking a seat at the table.

Ziva frowned as she took the remaining seat at the table. "I do not believe a doctor would prescribe that."

"This is really good," he muttered. "It reminds me of something my Nonna would've made. And it's a figure of speech, meaning that we, or rather, I am what they need," Tony rolled his eyes as he placed another forkful of food into his mouth. "Mmmm. Ziva, you gotta try this."

Tim grinned as he watched and listened to Tony talking about the dish Ziva had made.

"I think the two of them could use some fun and fascinating conversation."

Ziva opened her mouth to comment, but before she could, Tony spoke again. "I mean, what could the two of possibly do all day? They don't really have any common interests. Can you see McGee, who gets seasick at the mention of boats talking to Gibbs about building them?

"I didn't think so," Tony continued, as if Ziva had responded. "Seriously, Ziva, you might want to get some before I eat it all."

"There was enough there for each of us to have several servings. I doubt that you could finish it all off by yourself."

"Yeah, well, never underestimate hungry men," Tony retorted, easily bouncing between the two conversations. "Or how about Gibbs trying to understand McGeek as he prattles on and on about gigabytes, encryptions, bandwidth, algorithms, firewalls, or any other of the other non-sensical things he's obsessed with?

"You really need to get some of this. I'm not sure what it is, but it's good." Tony stopped talking as Tim snickered. "What? Do I have something on my face?"

"No," Tim replied, amused by the situation.

Giving him an odd look, Tony turned back to Ziva. "See? What the doctor ordered. I think we arrived just in time. Probie's ready to crack from boredom. I mean, he and Gibbs have probably just stared at each other. Watching paint dry would probably be more exciting."

Ziva rolled her eyes.

"Why aren't you eating?" Tony asked, as he scooped the last bite onto his fork. "You don't know what you're missing. I doubt you've ever tasted anything as good as whatever this is…was," he corrected, staring down mournfully at his empty plate.

"Wanna bet?" Tim asked before he could help himself.

"Huh?" Tony asked, looking up from his still empty plate.

Tim blinked as everyone's attention turned to him. "I asked if you wanted to bet that Ziva had ever tasted anything as good as that."

"You want to bet against me," Tony said in disbelief.

"Tony, I do not think it is a fair bet," Ziva quietly commented. By the look on Gibbs's face, she was sure Timothy knew about the meal's origins.

Tony waived away her protests. "You, who can't even remember their own name."

Tim scowled, "I remember my name."

"Of course, you do, Timothy F McGee," Tony mocked.

Tim glared at his coworker, "Is it a bet or not?"

"Tony," Ziva tried to inject, only to be cut off by said teammate.

"Hell, yeah I'm gonna take that bet," Tony agreed. "The only thing we need to do is agree on the terms." Tony paused for a moment. "I'll even go easy on you, say ten bucks and once your better and back at work, loser does all the reports for two weeks."

Tim snorted, "I don't remember much, but something tells me that I don't want you to do my reports, not even for two weeks."

"You don't," Gibbs confirmed.

"Hey!" Tony protested.

"How about…Fifty bucks and once we're back working on cases, the loser has to clean and restock the van for a month."

Tony blinked at the terms Tim offered before looking between his teammates; neither one gave any indication that something hinky was going on. Holding out his hand for McGee to shake, he agreed. "You're on. And Ziva, don't lie just to save McGee some money."

"I am sure that I will not have to," she said, smirking.

Tony faltered at her expression, especially since Tim and Gibbs had similar ones on their faces. "Well, let's get this settled, Ziva, grab a plate."

Still smiling, Ziva stood up to prepare herself a plate. Returning to the table, she scooped some onto her fork, three sets of eyes watching her, two of them amused. Pausing with the fork hovering in front of her lips, she met Tony's eyes, "By the way," she began, "The dish is my version of chicken cacciatore. I made it last weekend, had a bit of it then, then froze the rest to keep on hand for a night I did not feel like cooking. I brought this and a few other things over last night so Gibbs and Tim would not have to worry about meals."

Tony groaned and slammed his head to the table, knowing that he had lost the bet. There was no way he could argue against that.

"Where's Abby?"

"Bowling with Sister Rosita,"

"Abby bowls?" an incredulous Tim questioned before he could stop himself. "As in shoes, lanes, using heavy round objects to knock down pins?"

Tony snickered, "Those heavy round objects are called bowling balls,"

"I know that, Tony" Tim rolled his eyes.

"And yes, Abby bowls, she's been doing so for years. But the important question is how can you remember what bowling is, but do not remember us?"

Seeing Tim frown upon hearing the senior agent's words, Ziva teased, "I guess you are not as memorable as you thought, Tony."

"Abby? Bowling?" Tim repeated, not really paying attention to the other conversation. "But she-"

"Hey, she's a great bowler," Tony interrupted. "You might not remember, but as I said, she's been doing it for years, so has a lot of practice."

At the mention of his memory, Tim gave a slight jerk before continuing the conversation, "What I was going to say before I was so rudely interrupted is that she won't wear the bowling shoes they give you."

Tony blinked, both at the bite in his partner's words and what he said. "You think she won't wear the shoes, or you know?"

"I..." Tim paused, "I know. I remember taking Abby bowling. She wouldn't wear the shoes they had. I finally convinced the guy to let her bowl in her socks," he concluded. "She had fun, but vowed to never wear any of those shoes. Called them ugly, boring, and disgusting."

"Can't blame her for that," Tony snickered. "So, when was that?"

"I don't know…why?"

"Because I never heard that story before. It must've been one of the first dates the two of you had."

"Why? And how would you have heard about it?"

"You know Abby," Tony said, before correcting himself, "Or rather, you used to," he stated tapping his head. "She likes to talk about her dates. Plus, there is also the fact that a few months after we met you, we all got to know you more, between you hanging around the yard helping us and what Abby would mention. You used to mention your dates as well. We were like brothers," he reminded the younger man.

Upon hearing those words, Ziva snorted and earned a glare from Tony, while Gibbs just sat back observing his team.

"Okay, so it took us awhile to get there," he admitted, rolling his eyes, "But we did. Anyway, once you were around more, you took every opportunity that came your way to ask me for dating advice. And I would've advised against taking Abby bowling," he added.

"Why?"

Tony blinked and paused at that question, "Because it really isn't her scene," he finally said.

"You said she's been doing it for years, so apparently it is," Tim argued, "But what I was asking was why would I go to you for dating advice?"

"Because it's my area of expertise," the older man gloated.

Tim snorted in disagreement, "Yeah, I don't think so." His response caused Ziva to laugh and even Gibbs had an amused smirk on his face.

"I can't remember the last time I went a weekend without a date planned, and not because I lost my memories," Tony retorted. "In fact, I often have two or three dates schedule…with different woman," he added.

Tim snorted again, "Don't want to be a player," Tim replied, "I want a real relationship."

Tony's eyes narrowed, and he scowled as he heard Ziva laugh. "With who? Abby, the brunette?"

"No," Tim replied as he turned his face away from those seated around him. Knowing that having something to focus on would make things more bearable, Tim automatically started to clear the table.

Gibbs frowned at McGee's actions; it was similar to how he acted after lunch. Not only was he distancing himself, mentally, if not physically, but Tim also held himself stiffly, all traces of amusement and friendship were now gone from his face, and his eyes hardened. Gibbs noticed that Ziva was aware of the change in atmosphere and was currently glaring at Tony for causing it, something that Gibbs did as well once his eyes turned to the other man.

Feeling guilty, Tony tried to restart the conversation. "So, no comment about her bowling with the Sisters?"

Tim paused, debating whether to answer or just ignore Tony. 'Damn manners,' he muttered to himself, knowing it would be too rude to do as he wanted. "I don't really remember much about Abby, I doubt I've met her family enough to remember her sisters," he finally responded, giving a shrug.

"Not those kind of sisters," Tony snickered, his amusement in Tim's response evident. "The religious kind."

Although Tim was embarrassed at once more misinterpreting the conversation, he couldn't help but respond, "Nuns? She bowls with nuns?"

"I too found it very unusual and unbelievable," Ziva commented, trying to comfort her teammate.

Tony snickered again, "Seriously, Tim? How can you forget bowling nuns?" he said, not really talking to Tim or anyone else.

Without saying a word Tim continued to clean, Ziva rising from her chair to help, silence lingering over the room. Once it was finished, Tim turned to Gibbs, "I'm gonna go lie down now," he said before turning to leave the room, the only sound he heard as he walked away was a slight 'Thwack' and a muttered 'Ow' before he tuned them out.

7-25-2021

As I wrote, not beta'd. No doubt there are mistakes, but I wanted to get this out.

So, what do you think Gibbs is going to say to Tony?

What happened to Tim's playlists?