'You want to tell me what that was about?'

'No. Not really.'

Gibbs didn't reply, and simply sat down next to Tim. It took a conscious effort not to pat the younger man's knee or tousle his hair, but he didn't think that the gestures would be particularly welcome.

'My first land-nav exercise, I got so lost I didn't get back in time for an evening liberty I had planned. Missed a date with Shannon.'

Tim looked at him in astonishment.

'Really?'

'Oh, yeah. She thought I stood her up, and wouldn't speak to me for a week.'

Tim gave him a tentative smile before looking away. It was clear that even the knowledge that he wasn't alone in needing more than one try to get it right wasn't enough to make him feel entirely comfortable about his own lack of immediate success.

The problem, Gibbs thought, was at least in part that Tim was so smart, and had always learned things so easily. He wasn't used to not understanding something right away, to not knowing how to do something right the first time he tried. And he was having trouble getting his head around the idea that he was supposed to get things wrong, sometimes.

'Getting something wrong, before you learn how to do it right, is not failure, Tim.'

'No, but never actually getting it right, is.'

Tim's voice was dull and emotionless. Not a good sign.

'How do you know?'

'What?'

'How do you know you'll never get it right? You made one mistake – one – out of an entire day of doing things right, and you decided to give up. Your only problem is that you're too used to things being easy for you. You never had to struggle through a class, and you're like most straight-A students... you get discouraged and give up, when you find something that doesn't come naturally. That's failure, Tim.'

Gibbs almost held his breath as he waited for Tim's reaction. Even if Tim got mad at him, there was some chance they might get somewhere; anger might make him actually open up about what was going on in that head of his. But if he just shut down and refused to talk, this day that he'd hoped would strengthen his relationship with the younger man might end up damaging it, perhaps irreparably. It was a risk, but with his choices limited to convincing Tim that he wasn't a screw-up, and patting him on the head and telling him it's ok to be a screw-up, he knew which one he had to take.

'So I'm supposed to just keep trying, when I know I'm never going to be able to do it?'

'No, you're supposed to keep trying, because you know you'll eventually get better.'

'And if I don't?'

'You will.'

There was a long moment of silence.

'You're wrong, you know.'

'Tim...'

'No, I mean about me never failing a class. I did, once. In high school.'

The words were still bitter, but his voice wasn't as disengaged as it had been earlier.

'Phys. Ed.?'

Tim actually gave him a half-laugh before he answered.

'No, actually. I mean, I didn't do great in gym, but I was ok... and half the mark was for 'health', and I was good at labelling diagrams and stuff like that, so I actually didn't do too badly, overall. No... it was shop. I just... couldn't do it. No matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't get my brain and my hands and the wood to work together and nothing ever looked the way it was supposed to when I was done. There was this one assignment, a shelf for knick-knacks... everyone else in the class did this fancy scroll-work on the sides and back, and I couldn't even get mine straight enough that stuff wouldn't slide right off of it. They were going to make me take it again, but the shop teacher convinced my guidance counsellor that there was no point, because I was that hopeless. So they made me take HomeEc instead, to fulfil the requirement. Which just did wonders for my social life.'

'You should have told the other guys you were taking it to meet girls.'

'Yeah, I tried that. It didn't help. I did, however, learn how to bake a great cherry pie.'

Gibbs smiled slightly.

'Which, I guess, is somewhat more useful than spending another semester making things that looked like a kindergarten's art project.'

'Did you have the right tools?'

'Huh? Oh, sure, Boss... the school had a pretty good shop...'

'But did they have left-handed tools for you?'

'No...'

'Well, there's your problem, Tim! No wonder you couldn't do it. With some things it wouldn't have mattered, but with a table saw you wouldn't be able to see where you were cutting, or you'd have had to do it right-handed. Either way, you wouldn't get a clean line. And if the basic outline was off, not much you did afterwards would have mattered.'

'I... uh... never thought of that...'

'Your shop teacher should have. You can't have been the only left-handed kid in the school.'

'No, but I was the only one in my class...'

'That doesn't make it ok.'

Tim seemed lost in thought, clearly processing the notion that the great 'failure' of his childhood was largely due to an uneven playing field.

Gibbs took advantage of the lull in the conversation to reach into his backpack, pulling out two plastic-wrapped sandwiches. He passed one to Tim, and was relieved when the younger man took it from him with a mumbled 'thank you.' He retrieved two bottles of water from Tim's bag, taking advantage of the opportunity to lighten his load a little for him, and handed one over. Tim nestled it next to him, and sat picking idly at the wrapper on his sandwich.

Gibbs was somewhat encouraged by how well this was going, so far. But even more than his obvious difficulty coping with the fact that he wasn't perfect, Gibbs was worried by Tim's apparent perception that he was hoping for his agent to get it wrong, that he somehow enjoyed watching him struggle and fail, that he was looking for opportunities to punish him. If Tim really thought that, then Gibbs was doing something very wrong with this young man, and he needed to find a way to make it right.

He thought back to the case a few weeks earlier, when one of McGee's fans had killed two people, then gone after Abby in a delusional effort to change the outcome of his next book. Gibbs had spanked him afterwards, for not reporting threatening letters that could have been ruled out as a hoax long before they became a distraction that delayed the effort to find the real obsessive fan. Tim had, naturally, been reluctant to be whipped, but he had submitted without much real protest. And, although he'd struggled briefly in an obvious moment of panic, he'd settled down immediately when he'd told him to stop fighting. And he'd never once said 'no' or 'stop', despite his cries of pain. At the time, he'd thought that Tim accepted his authority and was willing to take his punishment; he wasn't supposed to want a spanking, but he didn't seem unduly upset about it.

Now, he wasn't so sure what had been going on in the younger man's head. If McGee thought that his punishment was unfair, or, heaven forbid, abusive...

And then Gibbs had basically threatened him, afterwards. He'd watched McGee sobbing uncontrollably, his pain and emotion painfully obvious, and he'd told him quietly, 'You put yourself in unnecessary danger, Tim, and you'll end up right back here, every time.' He'd meant it to be a reassuring reminder that he cared about him, that he was determined to do whatever it takes to protect him, even if it meant protecting him from himself. He was no longer sure that Tim had taken it that way.

And that bit about Gibbs expecting him to be a Marine, to be like Tony... Tim had been painfully insecure when he'd first joined his team, but he'd seemed more confident lately. And even the 'sibling rivalry' between Tim and Tony seemed to have improved. Tony still teased the 'probie', but Tim was fighting back more, and seemed to realise that it wasn't malicious. And his own relationship with his youngest agent was becoming closer as well; more light-hearted comments, casual conversations that weren't necessarily about work... and today, which he'd hoped would encourage Tim to come out of his shell a little more.

And he'd thought it was working.

Now, it seemed that he'd completely misjudged everything about this complicated young man.

'Tim, when I arranged your transfer from Norfolk... if I had wanted someone who was a Marine, I would have hired a Marine. You are on my team, because I want you on my team.'

'I know you thought I could do it, Boss... but I keep letting you down...'

'Listen to me, McGee. The day I decide you don't belong on my team, you'll know about it. Is that clear enough for you?'

He nodded sheepishly, still obviously not entirely believing it.

'Seriously, Tim... I don't push you because I want to see you fail. I push you because I know how much you are capable of.'

'I know that, Boss. Most of the time. It's just... sometimes... I feel like such an idiot when I can't do it, or I can't do it well enough, or I can't do it fast enough... it just feels like... oh, I don't know...'

The quiet words trailed off and McGee huddled up a little tighter. Gibbs reached over and gently turned his face towards him.

'You are a good agent, Tim. One of the best. Not many people last six months working with me. You're still here. What does that tell you?'

'I'm still not as good as Tony...'

'At some things. And there are other things that you can do that he can't. That's how it works, on a team. You're not supposed to be good at the same things. That's why you have different people, with different skills. No one person can do it all.'

'But...'

'No. No "but"s.'

McGee still looked sceptical, but he stopped protesting.

Gibbs took another bite of his sandwich, and was pleased to see that Tim had finally unwrapped his and was nibbling tentatively at the edges. After only a brief pause, however, Tim spoke up quietly.

'Uh, Boss?'

'Yeah?'

'Are you...'

Tim's voice trailed off.

'Am I what, McGee?'

Tim took a deep breath, as if he were steeling himself to say something difficult.

'Are you going to spank me? For... uh... talking to you... like that... earlier...'

The quiet words were spoken with a childlike innocence.

Gibbs just stared at him for a moment, too surprised to reply. Finally, he found his voice.

'Tim... I know you well enough to know that that wasn't characteristic for you. Spanking you isn't going to teach you anything you don't already know. And as for you not doing it again... well, if you're that upset, nothing is going to be much of a deterrent.'

Tim still looked confused, and it took a while for him to work out that that meant 'no'.

'Uh... ok. Good. I mean... if you... Sorry, Boss, I'm just not sure how to tell when you want to hit me.'

Gibbs reached out and tipped Tim's chin up with his finger, forcing him to look at him.

'Tim, I never want to spank you. I don't like doing it. But I would rather spank you than have to bury you. If my belt is a disincentive that makes you think before you do something stupid, then I'm going to use that to help me keep you safe. Behaviour that puts you, or anyone else, at risk earns a spanking. That includes disobeying a direct order, and lying to me.'

He waited a few seconds before continuing.

'Are you ok with that?'

'What?'

'Do you think it is unfair, or unreasonable, or inappropriate, for me to spank you under those circumstances? Because if you have a problem with that method of punishing you, we can find something else that will work for you. I'm not willing to just let it go; you're too important. And I'd rather keep it off the Director's desk, for your sake. But I'm not going to make you do anything you're not comfortable with. It wouldn't work, anyway, if you're too busy resenting me.'

Tim's mind was a jumble of emotions.

Tony had told him, when he was struggling to come to terms with his first spanking at his boss's hands, that Gibbs wouldn't insist on continuing to punish him that way, if he found it traumatic. Tim hadn't entirely believed him, and had been appalled by the thought of admitting to the Marine that he was terrified of the pain of another spanking and emotionally devastated by the experience. Now, to have Gibbs telling him basically the same thing... he didn't know whether to be grateful or humiliated.

For a moment, he considered speaking the words he so desperately wanted to say. He could ask Gibbs not to spank him again. He could avoid the pain and fear each punishment brought him. He'd be able to start breathing normally, to stop worrying every time he made the slightest mistake that he was going to end up sprawled across the conference room table crying out in pain while his boss whipped him with his belt.

He wondered briefly what Gibbs's 'something else' would entail. Would he make him run laps until he collapsed in exhaustion, or clean the locker-room showers with a toothbrush, like he'd always imagined punishment to mean, for a Marine? Or ground him like a little kid, with a curfew and orders not to watch TV or use the internet, except for work? He had a feeling that his boss could be very creative, but surely nothing he could come up with could be worse than a spanking.

But, he thought ruefully, he would probably feel as bad about letting Gibbs down, as embarrassed about being disciplined, as confused and distraught by his own actions as well as by the consequences, no matter what form his punishment took. If he was really being honest with himself, what he hated was the experience of being punished and knowing that he deserved to be punished. Simply not being spanked wouldn't actually have as much of an effect as he wished it would.

And, he realised with a shock, he didn't like the idea of being the only member of Gibbs's team who didn't get spanked. And it wasn't just that he knew how much DiNozzo would tease him about not being able to handle it. As much as he hated it, and as much as he hoped never to experience Gibbs's belt again, he didn't want to be left out, to be set apart as someone to be punished merely like an NCIS employee rather than as one of Gibbs's team.

Tim's eyes widened in surprise at his own decision.

'No! I mean... Oh, God, I can't believe I'm saying this... I'm ok with it, Boss.'

Gibbs nodded, giving Tim a quick squeeze on the shoulder.

'Ok.'

'But... for what it's worth... I really hope it doesn't happen very often!'

Gibbs chuckled.

'Me too, Tim.'

McGee gave Gibbs one of his sheepish, shy, half-embarrassed smiles and suddenly found his sandwich fascinating.

His mind was still churning.

Gibbs had told him that he spanked him as a way of protecting him from his own recklessness. And he already knew that the off-the-record punishments were a way of protecting him from more official consequences for his actions. And Gibbs had seemed seriously concerned about the prospect of Tim being injured or killed because of an avoidable mistake. And they were here, in the middle of a forest, because Gibbs was teaching him the sort of thing that fathers teach their sons. And there was that thing in the diner, earlier today. Tony had tried to convince him that his 'Gibbs is Dad' theory applied to him as well, but he hadn't believed him; now, as he studied his boss out of the corner of one eye, he wondered if this undemonstrative man to whom he was so devoted actually returned feelings stronger than those of a boss for a subordinate.

Tim finished his sandwich and glanced up, noticing that Gibbs was studying the map. Catching his eye, his boss smiled gently.

'Ok. You ready to head back?'

Tim answered, hesitantly, 'Uh, actually, Boss... I thought that maybe... I could try again? To... uh... find that target you marked?'

Gibbs was obviously surprised, and Tim regretted his impulsive decision to prove to his mentor... and to himself... that he was not a quitter.

'I mean... unless you... I mean, I know I've taken up most of your day already... so... if you don't want...'

'Let's go.'

'You're sure you don't mind?'

Gibbs didn't reply, just handed him the map, grinning.

Tim wasn't sure, but he thought he could see pride in his boss's eyes as he pulled his compass out of his pocket to get his bearings.