McGee wasn't surprised when Gibbs pulled the car over at the small diner in the middle of nowhere. Coffee fix, he thought.

'Did you eat?'

The question caught him off guard, and for a moment he just stuttered stupidly.

'Breakfast, Tim. Did you have something to eat?'

Tim swallowed the 'Yes, Dad' that sprung immediately to mind. Abby might be able to get away with that kind of comment, but he couldn't. It was, at best, flippant; at worst, it was totally insensitive, given what had happened to Gibbs's only child.

'Uh, yeah, Boss. I had some cereal.'

Gibbs sighed, waving him out of the car.

Ten minutes later, Tim found himself perched on a stool at the old-fashioned lunch counter, staring at a plate of bacon and eggs that he didn't really want to eat. Feeling his boss's eyes on him, he moved a forkful of egg into his mouth and forced himself to chew. He'd already endured one lecture on the relationship between insufficient calories and exhaustion on the trail; he didn't want a sequel.

Gibbs sipped at his coffee and studied the map that McGee had brought with him.

'That's a good route you've picked for the kids, Tim. Nothing they can't handle, but challenging enough to make it interesting. We should be able to cover that ground in about an hour, let you get a feel for it before Saturday.'

Tim nodded, his mouth full. He was relieved to hear that Gibbs wasn't planning for this to be an all-day exercise. He was already torn between feeling like he was placing an unreasonable burden on his boss, and feeling like his boss was subjecting him to an unreasonable ordeal. An hour of hiking, even with a Marine, couldn't be so bad. Could it?

Tim tried to pay attention as Gibbs pointed out various markings on the map, explaining their significance. Some of it he knew from his research on the internet, but he still quickly felt overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information. He felt his eyes start to glaze over, and reached desperately for his coffee, hoping that the caffeine jolt would help him at least appear interested. After all, he really did need to learn at least some of this stuff, and quickly.

He pulled his hand back, realising that the waitress was also reaching for his cup to refill it. He smiled at her, getting a 'there you go, luv' in return. He thanked her for the refill, then forced his attention back to the two-dimensional torture device spread out on the counter.

A few minutes later, the smiling older woman was back, offering more coffee to Gibbs. The diner was nearly empty, and she lingered.

'Army?'

'Marines.'

'Ah. I can always tell the ones who've served by the maps they have. Most of the tourists have those ones that look like something out of a comic book, and even then they're lucky to get it right-side-up.'

Gibbs gave her one of his rare, genuine smiles.

'Spoken like a proud military wife.'

'Well, widow, now. My Stanley was in Vietnam, stayed on after the war. Not many did, but he said he'd found his way to make a difference. We moved out here after he retired because he never could get used to big cities. He wouldn't like me working here, but I need someone to talk to, other than my cat.'

'He sounds like a good man...'

There was a pause while Gibbs squinted at her name-tag.

'...Wanda. I think he'd understand.'

'Well, I expect I'll find out soon enough. What about you, luv? What do you do to keep yourself busy, these days?'

It was obvious that she meant what was his job, but to Tim's surprise Gibbs answered, 'I build boats.'

'You mean like for the Navy?'

'No, not ships. Boats. Wooden ones. Fishing boats, mainly. All hand-crafted...'

Gibbs and Wanda chatted for a few minutes, while Tim pushed egg around on his plate. They weren't actually excluding him from the conversation, but it wasn't a topic he could readily discuss so he remained quiet, except for a few polite responses to Wanda's questions about their plans for the day. Then one of the other patrons waved across the room to get her attention, and she moved off, patting the back of Gibbs's hand as she went.

Gibbs pointed at Tim's plate with an 'eat that' look, then headed off to the rest-room. McGee shovelled the last of the egg into his mouth and finished the rest of his coffee. He had no intention of keeping Gibbs waiting, once he got back.

Wanda came to collect his empty plate and Tim noticed, now that he wasn't determinedly keeping his eyes fixed on the map in an effort to convince Gibbs that he was at least trying to follow the lesson, that she had to step around a large cardboard box to do so. Following his gaze, she shrugged.

'It belongs on that shelf up there, but the regular delivery guy is off sick and the one they sent wouldn't put it up there for me. So, it'll just have to stay there until someone on a later shift can get it out of the way.'

Tim was instantly on his feet.

'That shelf there?' he asked, pointing, as he made his way behind the counter.

'Oh, you don't have to do that, luv...' she started to protest.

'It's no problem, really.'

Glancing around quickly, McGee liberated a small step-stool from under the counter and placed it next to the metal shelving unit. He hoisted the crate of ketchup bottles onto his shoulder, then eased himself up onto the stool. The box was heavier than he expected, and rather awkward, and he could see why the older woman couldn't manage it herself.

'Your son is a good boy.'

Tim realised that Gibbs must have returned.

'Yes, he is.'

There was a pause. Tim expected Gibbs to continue, 'but he's not my son.' Instead, he simply repeated 'Yes, he is.'

'You must be very proud of him.'

'I am.'

Tim was glad that the box was shielding his face from view.

Gibbs had once referred to Tony as his son, and Tim knew that DiNozzo was more pleased by that passing comment than he'd ever let on. But there were limits to how much could really be read into that; Gibbs had been trying to gain the trust of a man of questionable mental capacity who had been duped into being an unwitting 'suicide' bomber, and was clearly trying to establish a common ground as a basis for further conversation.

But this?

Of course, Gibbs couldn't easily explain that he was his boss, not his father, without having to elaborate on their jobs. And he'd already let the woman believe that he built boats for a living. This was most likely nothing more than an embarrassed reluctance to be caught in a fib.

But, even though he knew that Gibbs probably hadn't meant anything by it, the comment still produced conflicting emotions that both surprised and confused him.

Tim liked to think that his relationship with his boss was getting somewhat closer; Gibbs seemed less distant with him, and less terrifying. And he'd gained a new understanding of Gibbs's views on what it meant to be a member of his team, when he'd been held down and whipped – twice, now – for screwing up badly enough to merit more than a head-slap. As bonding experiences went, it wasn't one that Tim would have chosen, but it had been very effective at prompting some deep thinking about his mentor's role in his life.

But despite Tony's theory of the team's dynamic, he still couldn't believe that Gibbs would ever make the leap from seeing Tim as part of his team, to considering him part of his family. Tony, maybe, but definitely not him. And he was frankly astonished that Gibbs would be willing even to let someone think that he was his son.

Tim was also disconcerted by how pleased he was by Gibbs's comment. It was one thing for Tony to revel in their boss's affections, but he didn't need a father-figure substitute. It was unsettling to realise just how much he craved his boss's approval and attention.

And there was a bit of resentment mixed in with the other emotions. He didn't think his boss was deliberately toying with him; if anything, Gibbs seemed blithely unaware of what his agents read into these off-hand comments. But, even though he knew he wasn't deliberately being cruel, Tim felt a spark of outrage at Gibbs's casual disregard of how he might feel.

McGee shoved the box onto the shelf and turned around, carefully not calling Gibbs 'Boss'. He was well-enough trained to play along with a ruse without blowing it, even if he didn't understand its purpose in the first place and even if he was feeling emotional turmoil about the form it took. He accepted a pat on the cheek from Wanda with a cheerful 'you're welcome', replied to Gibbs's 'you ready to go?' with a 'yup' that he didn't think sounded too curt, and dropped some money on the table to cover their bill, all without letting on to Wanda that he was anything other than a dutiful son out for a hike with dear old dad and without letting on to Gibbs that he'd even overheard the conversation in the first place.

He settled into the car, his mind still churning.

'Go ahead and ask.'

Tim turned to face his boss, completely startled. Sometimes the man's ability to read his mind was just too much.

'Why I didn't tell Wanda we work for NCIS, when she asked. You've been wondering for the last half-hour.'

'Uh, no, Boss...'

Gibbs just raised one eye-brow, and waited.

'Ok... Why?'

'Don't you ever get tired of the way people react when you tell them you're a federal agent?'

'D'you mean the ones who stop talking because they think you're gonna arrest them for no apparent reason, or the ones who want to know if you've ever shot someone?'

Gibbs chuckled.

'Exactly. Or the ones who want to tell you that their second cousin's next-door neighbour is a foreign operative sending coded messages with her clothesline. She had the blue sheets out yesterday, so we'd better raise the threat level.'

Tim laughed.

'I haven't heard that one! Of course, telling people I'm an author isn't that much better...'

'That's why I told Wanda you work with computers.'

'You did? Uh, sorry, Boss... I must not have been paying attention...'

'No, you were busy playing boy scout.'

'Uh, yeah. Boss, I knew you wanted to get going, but...'

'Tim, do not apologise for doing the right thing.'

'Oh. Ok. Right. Sorry, Boss.'

Gibbs just shook his head and cuffed him lightly on the back of the head. It was, Tim realised with a shock, an affectionate gesture rather than a reprimand.

For one brief moment, he contemplated asking why Gibbs had encouraged Wanda's assumption that they were father and son.

Then, just as he thought he might be able to work up the nerve, Gibbs pointed out a sign telling them they were almost at their destination, and the moment passed. Resigning himself to an unpleasant hour of 'Gunny Gibbs's land-nav 101', Tim struggled not to sigh too audibly as he forced himself to pay attention to his boss's disconcertingly enthusiastic instructions.