McGee knew what she was about to say the moment he opened the door. She had the look. The look he must have seen a hundred times before. A look he had hoped he would never see on her face. And yet there it was.
"Hi," she said softly, lowering her eyes.
As she walked past him into his apartment, he closed his eyes and steeled himself for 'the explanation'. Even as his heart was sinking, however, there was guilt. He was guilty of cowardice. He had known this moment was looming, and yet he had left it to her to have the courage to do what had to be done.
"Tim, I've been thinking," never a good start. He debated whether he should putting her out of her misery now or let her string along an awkward concoction of words. Sometimes he let them take the word option, it was a spectator sport for him, but this one he had no desire to see suffer. It was time for euthanasia.
"I know," he gave her a tight, sad smile.
She averted her eyes, "I'm sorry", she whispered.
There were tears rolling down her beautiful cheeks and he wondered vaguely why she was so sad if she wanted it all to end. But really, he knew. Such a loss always required a period of mourning. He was already starting to feel like an empty, hollow shell and he found himself wishing that she would just leave before she saw the effect this was having on him.
He put his arms around her gently. "It's OK", he said softly.
"I'm moving to legal," she said snuggled against his chest, probably for the last time.
"There's no reason to do that," it was an unconvincing protest; he could not bear to face her at work. Maybe rule no. 12 should be carved in stone.
She pulled away at arms length to look at him, "No, not because of this," she assured him earnestly, "I was already making the move. I think legal just suits me a bit better."
He understood. She was probably right.
"There's another thing," she was looking down again. He panicked: he had no idea what he would do right now if she said she was pregnant.
"There is someone else."
"How old?" In hindsight the question probably deserved the look she gave it but at the time he was thinking in terms of weeks, not years.
"Exactly one day older than you," she smiled playfully. Even in times of stress, she could twang his heart strings.
"I hope he's good to you," time to get her out, his responses were getting lame and he was on the verge of a major depressive episode.
He led her to the door and opened it for her. He leant down and gave her one last, chaste kiss on the cheek. She smiled tearfully and left without turning back.
He closed the door firmly and leaned his forehead heavily against it closing his eyes against the world for just a moment. He took a deep breath which was a little more stuttery than he intended and was glad he was alone. He was startled to hear a loud knock on the other side of the door from his face.
Despite everything, his heart leapt a little in hope but he stomped it down before it got too carried away. He peaked through the spy hole and saw Abby's eye peering in from the other side.
"Come on, McGee," she called out, "I know you're in there."
So she had told Abby. He should have expected it. Rumours spread thick and fast at work. He was sure Tony knew by now. Heck, even Gibbs in his Mexican shack probably knew about it before he did. He took a deep breath and solemnly opened the door.
Abby strode past him carrying a box of tissues in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other.
"Abby," he chastised her; "you know I don't believe in drowning my sorrows."
"But I do," she pointed out with a forced grin, "and I don't like to drink alone."
She headed for the kitchen and pulled out a couple of glasses. She looked back at his mournful face and sighed. "You really liked her didn't you?"
"Yeah," he croaked, he was loosing it and he knew it.
Drained of energy, he somehow managed to drag himself to the kitchen bench and hoist himself onto it. The bench groaned in protest and he wondered what its weight rating was. By the noises it was making, he was probably going to get a handle on the weight rating pretty soon.
Abby placed the glasses, bottle and tissues on the bench and stood in front of him. Silently, she wove her arms around his neck. She understood the pain. They had a bond that exceeded the spoken word. His chest ached and he wrapped his arms around her, burying his head in her shoulder.
"It's OK", Abby whispered in his ear.
She stroked his back comfortingly, feeling his body shaking beneath her. Slowly she felt her shoulder become warm and wet.
There was a loud knock on the door and his impossibly optimistic heart attempted yet another leap before he lassoed it, dragged it back to earth, tied in securely in place and put it out of its misery.
"That'll be Tony and Ziva", said Abby cheerily.
He squeezed his eyes shut tightly and sighed, "Of course it will."
"Hey buddy," Tony greeted him like a long lost friend, adding a nipple tweak into the bargain, "dumping party!"
It was past 2 am when McGee finally closed his front door on their retreating backs. He looked back at the circle of upturned glasses in a ring on the floor of his apartment and smiled gently. It had worked; he didn't feel lonely any more. In fact, he actually craved solitude. Strangely, when all was said and done, he didn't really miss Doris anymore. The one person who was truly missing from his world was in Mexico.