Rage? Who the hell was this shrink to tell him he had problems with unexpressed rage? Arsehole. He was Timothy McGee. He was NICE Damn it. Everyone knew that. Everyone liked him and he was polite and pleasant. He wasn't some angry psychopath who was going to turn on his team. How dare some jumped up little man in an office deny him going back into the field because he had some supposed issues expressing his anger? What the fuck? He did NOT HAVE A PROBLEM WITH FUCKING RAGE!

Tim shifted in his seat and instinctively tightened his tie, hunching his body in even tighter as if he could somehow physically restrain the thoughts roiling through his mind.

Ok so maybe there was something going on.

His eyes slipped again to the piece of paper on Gibbs' desk declaring that he was currently unfit for field duty and felt shame quickly followed by anger flush through him. Damn It! He had worked so hard to get here and now it was all FUCKED UP!

Tim bit his lip. The jumped up little man was right. It was getting worse. He just wasn't sure what to do about it. The more he tried to control it and suppress it the more angry he seemed to become. But if he let it out? What would he do? In fact how do you let something like that out? He wasn't even sure what it was at the bottom of it all. And to be honest he was afraid to find out.

And so days past and he slowly felt like a child's toy being slowly wound tighter and tighter. He was back to his buttoned up shirts and ugly suits as they at least restricted him more than his recent jeans and sports jackets. He couldn't relax enough to sleep well which was affecting his thinking so his mind seemed to just run in circles. Around and around and around…..

Tim was sure that he looked pathetic to the rest of the team. All the things they had been through and they came out fine. One little undercover op for him and he goes all to pieces. He hated himself. Weak pathetic probie. He could hear the taunts in his ears somehow just beyond his reach.

Dr Marks the jumped up little shrink said it was because he was such a nice person that he was having so much trouble. He wasn't accustomed to processing such anger and didn't have the experience to deal with it. Even when Kate died he had been despairing and upset and sort of lost but he had been in too much shock to be angry. What anger there was was directed outwards, at Ari, at finding a way to stop him.

And they did.

There was also a sort of helplessness he couldn't figure out. Dr Jacobs compared it to sexual assault cases and a sense of being forced against his will. He had tried to explain over and over again that it wasn't like that at all. He could have got up and walked. Anytime. It would have blown everything and set his career back and put Tony at risk and lost the respect of his team and…….. but he could have done it. Ok so he felt trapped and helpless. And that made him angry. Helpless? He was a Federal Agent for Gods Sake!

Tim found himself staring at the bottle of Jack Daniels he had stashed in his top cupboard in case Gibbs ever decided to pop over. It was a be prepared kind of thing and one day he wanted to surprise him by casually offering him a glass as if it was no big deal and the bottle hadn't been sitting there for years for just such a purpose.

The fact that he sat there for hours and looked at the liquor and told himself that it was a very bad idea to drink it even if it helped him sleep and forget all the thoughts running through his mind and how his stomach burned from anxiety disturbed him. Wasn't that just as bad as actually drinking it, this arguing with himself about the pros and cons until he fell into an exhausted sleep in his chair?

Besides rage? Who was going to take him seriously with his young stupid baby face and big stupid puppy dog eyes as being someone who might fly into some sort of violent rage? Please they would probably laugh at him.

Laugh until they got his fist in their mouth anyway.

Tim sank even further down into his chair hoping no one would ask him anything too confrontational, like what he might like for lunch or did he read that funny email Tony had sent him? He had been trying not to meet anyone's eyes if he could help it as they always gave him away. Stupid eyes. He would prefer they thought of him as quiet and pathetic rather than some crazed rabid dog that foamed at the mouth.

Still they would know soon enough and then he didn't know what he would do. A case would come up and Gibbs would call for his team. All except him. He would have to stay here and do the desk work because he couldn't be trusted emotionally to make the right sorts of decisions in case it put his team at risk.

As if he would do that? He would NEVER put his team at risk. That was part of the problem that seemed to have got him here in the first place. He wouldn't have put Tony at risk no matter what happened to him. But now Tony would be going out into the field without someone to watch his back. And Tony always needed someone to watch his back as he was always taking risks. Risks that he would never take but they always turned out well for him because he was Anthony Fucking DiNozzo and he could do no bloody wrong!

Tim's mind completed the first angry circle for the day as he seethed and wrestled with himself to try and achieve at least from the outside a sort of calm appearance.

These daily sessions with the Doctor just seemed to stir him up instead of calming him down. Tim felt tired and upset and he didn't know if he wanted to scream or cry and so he stayed silent and stuffed the anger further down.

Just what the fuck was he going to do?

(I must admit I love angry McGee. I know this is taking me a while to update but there is at least one more chapter. This was a one shot that keeps singing to me amongst my other work. Do please review and let me know what you think. Precious)