I own nothing. Same warnings still. Enjoy!
"That means leave Gibbs," Tim repeated slowly.
"No," I said firmly, "Not until I get the whole story."
"And if I say no?" he asked swinging the gun in his hands, "What are you going to do then?"
"Damn it McGee," I said angrily, "This is not some joke."
"Oh I know," he said smirking, "But it is just as fun."
"Just tell me what's going on," I said taking a deep breath.
"You see I would," he said pointing the gun at me, "But where is the fun it that?"
"McGee," I said through gritted teeth.
"Getting mad," he said evilly, "Oh this is priceless."
"Just tell me what the hell is going on," I said throwing my hands up.
"I thought it would be obvious," he said calmly, "I'm going to kill myself. Now either you can watch or you can leave."
"I'm not leaving," I said moving so I was kneeling, "And I'm not watching you kill yourself."
"It's seems we have a conundrum then," he said placing the gun to his lips in thought, "You really want to know what is going on?"
"Yes," I said moving closer to him.
"Okay," he said smiling, "Well, get comfortable. This might take a long time."
And take a long time it did. As McGee told me the story of how he started to hurt himself I felt myself getting sick, which was a very difficult thing to make me feel at any time.
The thoughts that he had thought and how much detailed was enough to make me actually see him inflict those wounds on himself. No wonder he was a writer. That boy could make you see things you never thought possible.
I could tell that he was enjoying telling me this story. He could see that I hated every moment and every word that fell from his mouth. He wanted to hurt me while he told me.
I don't understand why he wanted to hurt me, but he was succeeding quite well. I felt horrible for the boy sitting next to me. He had been picked on to the point of harming himself.
The story didn't seem to effect McGee the way it would a victim. There was something majorly missing from this story and that's the thing that could save McGee's life in the end.
If I could just find out what that something is I could possible get that gun from McGee's hands and everything could go back to normal. At least I hoped I would go back to normal.
The boy sitting in front of me was not the man that I had hired all those years ago. He had changed into something that I never thought he could have been. He should be acting like a victim.
Instead it seems like he's proudly spiting off his childhood like it was his next novel. I wished these stories had been his novel and not his life. No one deserved to be treated like this.
Something in McGee had snapped. His past was the only thing that might keep him from using that gun. I needed to keep him talking and hope that he gave me something I could use.
As he continued his story I felt my stomach tighten at the sheer thought of how many times I had seen a faint scar running across or up and down his wrist. I had never really paid attention to them before.
Now I wished I had. If I had paid more attention to McGee I could have saved us both from having to be here right now. I could have saved McGee from the man that he was right now.
"It was fun you know," McGee said leaning closer to me, "Watching everyone. They had no clue."
I could tell that he was making fun of me at this point. He was making fun that I hadn't been able to figure this out yet. He also was making fun that I had no clue how to fix this mess.
Something was horribly wrong in McGee's brain at the moment and the only thing that could fix that was getting him to talk. The more he talked the better chances I had of saving him.
McGee kept telling me his stories and faking cutting himself with glass. He was enjoying this way too much. It seemed like this was just a stupid game to him and it was sickening me.
How could he be acting right now? He was putting on a show for me. This whole thing was a show. I had no doubt the story was true, but he now had an audience and he was going to use that.
He showed me the scars on his wrists and pretended to count them before getting lost. As I stared at his wrists I wondered how I could have missed them when they were so pronounced.
It looked like he hadn't hurt himself like that in awhile though. If he hadn't hurt himself in awhile then there was still hope in getting him to give me the gun without hurting himself.
Something had pushed him over the edge. And I had a feeling that it was in the story that was coming. Listening to the story I realized that it seemed like it was only the beginning.
The beginning in itself was a nightmare for any person and it happened to McGee. McGee was the sweetest person I knew. How anything like this could happen to me was completely out of my mind.
I knew the saying 'Bad things happen to good people', but this seemed to be taking it to an extreme. No one could say a bad thing about McGee and it was hardly fair that's all he knew.
Years of having his flaws pointed out must have hurt him more then any hit could. This 'dream' he seemed to have made up for himself wasn't helping the cause in anyway at all.
"Want to hear the best part?" McGee asked sweetly.
"Sure," I said slowly.
"I even went to a shrink," he said before laughing.
"What happened?" I asked curiously.
"They put me on these nice medications," he said innocently.