I own nothing! Man, this story is taking a lot out of me. Pouring my thoughts out like this. Anyway. Enjoy!
"Do you think I'm crazy Gibbs?" Tim asked innocently.
I didn't know how was I supposed to answer that question. It's not that I thought McGee was crazy, but there was something wrong with him. He mentioned that he was put on medication.
Since he didn't know what the medication was or what it treated I was at a serious disadvantage. For this moment I knew that I needed to know what those medications were to help him.
As stealthily as I could I sent a text message to Ducky. Ducky had all the medical records of everyone and I hoped he could figure it out. When the message was sent I waited.
I listened as McGee continued with his story. I couldn't imagine what his parents felt to have found those things in their sons room. I also couldn't understand why this was happening to him.
McGee had gone through something that had changed him. The thing that changed him and driven him to the point of hurting himself and dreaming of killing himself.
In the whole time I had known McGee I never would have guessed that he had went through something like this. The shrink really worked. Or maybe it was the medication.
Why would they put him on medication and not tell him what it was for? Whatever it was it had to be very serious. For them not to tell him what was wrong with him was surprising.
McGee was a very smart person. I knew he would be able to understand what was going on if they had taken the time to talk to him. I got a message from Ducky a few moments later.
There was only two words on the message. Bipolar and depression. That's what the medication was for. How was I supposed to get him over this? There was a major issue in his head and the medication…
The medication was the key. I didn't know much about these disorders, but I knew enough that he should still be on them. McGee was off of the medication he was supposed to take.
He never really was over his disorder, he was just under medication. Why hadn't he told me about this before? I would have been watching him a lot more. Maybe that's why he didn't tell me.
If I had known he was on medication I would never leave him alone. I wasn't that I didn't trust him, but now I was seeing what happens when he doesn't have the medication in his system.
I was truly worried about what he could do to himself. I was hurting me to see him go through this and then I remembered that this wasn't the first time he had gone through this.
Why did he stop taking his medication? Something had happened to make him think that he didn't need to be on them anymore. It was obvious that he still needed the medication.
I was glad that I was the person that was dealing with McGee. I didn't know if anyone else could handle what was going to happen. There was something that McGee needed and I hoped I could provide.
Stopping medication was about the worst thing you could do. As I listened to McGee something was hitting me as wrong. It seemed to me that McGee had no clue he was sick.
To him the things that he was doing were his normal. How was I supposed to tell McGee that he was sick with something like bipolar? It was not exactly something that I could tell him easily.
McGee needed some serious help and I was the person that had to do it. I didn't know if McGee trusted me, but he was telling me all these things and I felt responsible to help him.
The story that he was telling me made me feel so horrible. I couldn't let McGee go through all of those stupid things alone. I couldn't let him go through them at all. I needed to help him.
The gun in McGee's hand was waving around slowly. I had never seen a gun as the worst thing in the world, but right now I hated them. McGee looked so at peace holding the gun.
I knew that I couldn't just take the gun away from him because it had to be his choice to give it to me. If I got him to give me the gun then I knew that I would be able to help him.
No matter how much I was terrified that I couldn't help McGee, that I couldn't save him from himself, I knew that it had to be on his terms. If we didn't go through this his way then nothing had changed.
How was I supposed to get the gun away? How was I supposed to convince McGee that everything was going to be okay? How could I get him back on his medication?
If I got him back on his medication then things can go back to normal and we could have a real conversation. Then he said how long it took until he agreed to take the medication.
It took him days and now he was off them. How was I supposed to get him to get back on the medication? There was just something in McGee's eyes that told me I still had a chance.
The chance was small, but I knew in the back of his mind that he wanted me to help him. That might have been very far back in his mind that it will take awhile, but it was still there.
"I know what the pills were for," I said when he stopped talking.
"And what was that?" McGee asked curiously.
"They were for bipolar and depression," I said staring at him.
I stopped talking and waited for him to think about what I said. He looked confused at first, but then it changed slowly into understanding. I knew he would understand.
"That's why they didn't tell me," McGee said shrugging, "Oh well."
"You need to get back on your medications," I said calmly, "Then we can have this conversation."
"Maybe this is my real mind," he said softly, "Maybe I'm thinking clearly now."