Shot To Hell by ceilidh

A/N:- Well, I don't know about you, but after all that angst, and before Abby makes her peace with Tim, I could use some light relief! So with reference to one of my favourite scenes from Witch Hunt, poor Gibbs is about to go through every father's nightmare – trying to tell Abby what not to wear!

Enjoy!

Chapter Eleven - Holding On, Letting Go

He'd gone through this before, of course. Four times, in fact, with four fashion-conscious wives, but – jeez, how long did it take for just one woman, with one closet of clothes, to choose what to wear?

Hindsight, of course, was a wonderful thing. He really, really, should have told her that last outfit she'd chosen was fine, so they could get moving. Instead he'd made the mortal mistake of shrugging, and - well, that had been it.

Watching Abby dash, yet again, into her office, Gibbs sipped his latest coffee and groaned while trying, without success, to sit comfortably on his seat.

At this rate, Tim McGee would be out of hospital, and half way to retirement, before she -

- oh, good grief!

Not content with threatening to kill off her team-mates if they annoyed her too much, now she'd moved onto him. Death by choking on his coffee. Yeah, Abs, real cute.

Faced with a dizzying combination of white silk and black tattoos, Gibbs then hastily bit back a grin. Yes, she looked every bit as amazing in that dress as Marilyn had done, maybe even more so, but – no, for the sake of Tim McGee's delicate, still recuperating heart-beat, he had to stay firm.

"He needs to keep his blood pressure down, Abs - not send it into orbit-"

Marilyn Monroe's pout had been famously irresistible. Abby Sciuto's gave it a fair run for its money.

"But Gibbs! I want to look my best for him! And it's – it's his favourite!"

'Really? Can't think why-'

"Abs, it was bad enough last time. If he sees you in that dress, in his condition, his IV will explode."

Another irresistible pout. A frown of grudging defeat, and… oh hell, another trip to the closet.

Okay, it was a woman's right to change her mind, especially over what to wear, but – jeez. Twenty minutes gone, she still hadn't chosen anything – and she hadn't even started on the make-up yet.

Of course, Gibbs knew there were more serious reasons for Abby's 'what-to-wear' dithering than that.

Yes, Tim McGee had finally called her, so he was clearly as anxious to heal this rift between them as she was. But after the hurt she'd caused him, and what had happened, so traumatically, to him because of it – yes, he could understand why Abby's initial, joyous relief had changed into this butterflying panic.

Time, he dryly decided, for a bit of fatherly fence-building through the doors of Abby's office.

"Abs, he called you, remember? He wouldn't have done that if he didn't want to see you-"

'Some time this year-'

To Gibbs' relief, Abby's famous psychic vibes had picked up on that last, gently sarcastic afterthought. Thirty seconds later, she stood anxiously in the doorway to her office, waiting for his approval – her lace top and plaid skirt more demure than usual, but still 'Abby' enough to earn a winking grin.

And when he kissed her cheek, as he always did when he was proud of her, she even smiled back.

She was still understandably nervous, though. Their second journey to Bethesda Hospital was as quiet as the first.

So it was a strange relief when, as they walked to Tim's room, she was suddenly full of questions – even if that anxious, quick-fire interrogation did follow a certain, sweetly repetitive pattern.

"And – And he is okay now- right, Gibbs? I – I mean, he looks okay, and – and he sounds okay? He's really gonna be okay now? Even with all those tubes, and – and wires, and-"

"Yeah, Abs, he's fine, he's really okay-" Gibbs assured her, drawing her into a gentle hug – finding it impossible not to smile as she glared at him, in 'don't-dare-humour-me-Gibbs' scepticism.

"He's just on one IV now, and you might find he still gets tired kinda fast. Ducky's still kinda miffed that he started snoring halfway through one of his stories, but- yeah, he's really okay. See?"

All her scepticism, if not her nerves, vanished now as Abby stared through the window in front of her. It was just a small square of glass, set at eye-level into the door. But the view through it was still enough.

She could still see him, stretched out on top of his bed. Her sweet, precious, irreplaceable Timmy.

He needed every inch of that bed, too, especially its length. Jeez, who'd built it? Munchkins?

In fact, she was sure she could see his toes, in sweetly snug bedsocks, poking out beyond its covers.

She couldn't see his face, though. Lying slightly on his side, his back was, rather ominously, turned towards her. He wasn't moving either, and after what Gibbs had just told her, she'd assumed he was sleeping.

But then he stirred and stretched, rolling further onto his back - the tousled head shifting on its pillow. As if invisibly guided, that head turned to its side so that he faced towards her.

Startled at first, staring back at her in open surprise, Tim's face then broke into a smile of pure joy. And even with the distance between them, Abby could still see the delight in those big, beautiful eyes.

She could see relief, too, and awkward, guilty regret, and – yes, every emotion she now felt herself.

With reassuring strength, he then levered himself up onto his pillows, clearly eager to greet her – his smile fading a little, into a nervously anxious frown as Abby remained rooted where she stood.

But then the gentlest of nudges, and the softest of voices, coaxed her to open the door in front of her.

"It's okay, Abs, go to him. Go on, you both need to do this-"

Watching her move, so nervously, towards Tim's bed, Gibbs felt an overwhelming urge to follow.

He loved Abby as the daughter he'd so tragically lost, with Ziva a close second. Along with Tony, Tim McGee was the son he'd never had at all.

Even though they weren't his own, he still felt a father's natural instinct to protect and guide these four unique, incredible kids. Yet Gibbs resisted that instinct. For once, for just this one time, he had to let two of them go, and find their own way.

Tim and Abby were on their own. Whatever they had to say to each other, to let each of them heal, had to said, and heard, in private.

Even so, he couldn't resist one final, protective glimpse through the window of Tim McGee's room – smiling at the sight of two now tightly entwined soulmates, before leaving them to heal in peace.

After so many days of painful separation, they'd finally found each other. At last, they were finally holding on. Now he could freely let them go.