Disclaimer: I'm not going to even say her name. In my world, she does not exist. In my world, I wish NCIS was mine, but it's not.

A/N I'm not that pleased with this chapter, but I couldn't do it any other way. For me, McGee is the hardest character to write. Tony and Ziva, especially together, yes, but McGee no. That's why my stories (and future stories) tend to be focused around those two. Even Gibbs is easier for me. This chapter probably took me the longest to write, I hit quite a few blocks trying to write it. I tried, I guess, but I still don't think I can write McGee decently. Oh, well, enjoy if you can. Thanks to Kandon Kuuson for all his betaing work he does for me :D

"Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family: Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one." - Jane Howard
Chapter Twelve:Family

Present Time – Bethesda Naval Hospital

"You can go in, you know," a voice said, making the lone figure standing outside the door jump as if he had been caught in an act of crime. "In fact, we encourage it."

Timothy McGee slowly turned around and found himself staring into the eyes of an older blonde nurse. "I . . . err . . . um . . . thanks." McGee was like a deer caught in the headlights.

"She's quite popular, you know," the nurse continued, smiling at McGee. "She's already had quite a few visitors. I can see why though. Such a pretty girl, she must be special to a lot of people."

"Yes," McGee replied firmly, momentarily forgetting that he'd rather be anywhere but here, "she is."

The nurse smiled brightly. "Good, good. It's so nice to have people who care. You wouldn't know how many poor, poor people we get through here with no one to . . ."

McGee offered the nurse a small smile; she would give Ducky a run for his money any day. "Erm . . . I . . ."

"You okay, dear?" the nurse questioned, finally noticing that McGee looked a little green.

"Um . . . yeah, I guess." McGee didn't sound convincing.

"Your girlfriend?" she guessed sympathetically. "It's always the loved ones which are the hardest to see."

"No, no girlfriend," McGee managed to say, startled by the question, "just friend."

"Well, she's lucky to have a good friend like you," the nurse replied with a smile. Her smile, however, dropped off a little when she saw McGee's worried face.

"She's not going to give up that easily," she said softly. "I know it looks scary, but it really isn't. She's just sleeping, in a way. That's what we tell the youngsters anyways."

McGee nodded, closed his eyes and sighed.

"She looks like a strong one, she does," the nurse reassured McGee, "especially since she has a family like you."

"Family . . ." McGee looked bewildered. "She's not . . . I'm not . . . we're not . . ."

"I know, dear," the nurse said gently, placing a hand on McGee's shoulder, "but in the wise words of Johann Schiller: 'It is not flesh and blood, but the heart which makes us fathers and sons.' Well, in this case it's brothers and sisters."

McGee smiled weakly at the nurse, and hesitated.

"Go." She pushed McGee gently towards the door. "Talk to her, read to her, hell, sing to her. Just let her know that you are there and that you care."

"But . . ." McGee trailed off weakly.

"No buts," the nurse said firmly. Seeing that McGee wasn't going to help himself, she pushed open the door and pretty much forcibly pulled McGee into the room.

"Stay. Talk. Sing. Whatever," she said as she closed the door. "If I see you in the next half an hour, you don't want to know." She shut the door quietly, leaving McGee alone with Ziva.

"Err . . . hi," McGee said stupidly from the doorway. He spotted the chair that the Director had occupied only a few minutes beforehand. Cautiously making his way over to it, he hesitated before sitting down.

Not sure what to do next, McGee ran his hands over his face and blurted out, "Tony is even crazier without you. Movie quotes are coming in left, right and centre. Gibbs is scary and dangerous, I think. He yells at everything that moves, and everything that doesn't move too. Abby's sad, Abby isn't a sad person. Abby is happy, Abby is Abby. Abby's not Abby . . . Try saying that fast . . . Abby'ssad,Abbyisn'tasadperson.Abby . . ."

McGee laughed nervously. "I . . . err . . . get better soon," he finished weakly. McGee buried his face is his hands.

"I didn't want to come here," his muffled voice said, but immediately felt Ziva's gaze on his shoulder, even though she was in a coma. "No . . . no, I don't mean it like that. I mean I did . . . but I didn't. I mean, you . . . hospital . . . sorry."

McGee laughed nervously again. "You know, Gibbs would be saying right now: 'don't apologise, it's a sign of weakness' . . . but I'm sorry. Maybe if I'd gotten to you quicker . . . maybe . . . I don't know . . . you would be okay?"

'It's not your fault, McGee,' he could almost hear her say.

"But . . ." McGee said, the tiredness seeping through his voice. "Maybe if I called the ambulance sooner, called Gibbs sooner . . . done something different. You're . . . you're lying there . . . here. Just . . . there . . . just . . . Kate."

'I'm not Kate.' He could almost hear the contempt in her voice.

"No . . . not Kate," McGee mumbled. "You have no bullet in your . . . you're still alive. Seeing you here now . . . makes me miss, Kate even more . . . I'm sorry that came out wrong. I mean, you're two separate people . . . uh Tony doesn't admit it, but uh . . . forget Tony. Forget everything I just said. Kate's dead. Kate's in the ground being chewed by mag . . ." McGee only just made it to the small bathroom before the little he'd eaten that day graced his sights again.

McGee groaned. He slowly lifted his head, though it felt like his head had suddenly been replaced with bricks. Stumbling over to the sink, he rinsed his mouth out a couple times before wearily making his way back over to Ziva's bedside.

"Sorry, 'bout that," he apologised weakly, sitting back down in the chair. He slumped over in the chair, still feeling a little sick. "You know me . . ."

McGee sighed, and straightened himself up a little. "Oh, Ziva . . . we don't need this. I mean, we definitely need you, but not you like this. You hafta get better. We already lost Kate. We lost . . ." He remembered the nurse's words: 'It is not flesh and blood, but the heart which makes us fathers and sons'. "We lost . . . part of our family. We can't do . . . have . . . that again.

"Yeah, family," McGee continued, finally feeling a little comfortable sitting with a comatose Ziva. "Kate was like, you know, the older sister. Smart, funny, a little bossy, but great to be with, someone to look up to. She always looked out for me when Tony was being a jerk . . . sorry that came out wrong. . . you know what I mean, though. She and Tony could go at it better than an old married couple." McGee smiled at the memory.

"When she died," McGee continued, "it was like losing a sister, not only a friend. We had to bury a member of our family. Do you know how hard that is?"

Ziva didn't reply.

"I guess you don't," was McGee's conclusion, oblivious that Ziva had buried not only a sister, but a brother, a mother and a whole host of friends and colleagues.

"God, when Kate died, it was like the end of the world," McGee stated sadly, looking at his feet, "especially for Abby and Tony and Gibbs. We had to bury her, we weren't meant to bury her. Then you came along, like the long lost sister."

McGee continued with his family analogy. "I was angry at first. I wanted Ari as much as Gibbs and Tony did and there you were, trying to stop Gibbs from whacking him. Yet, things changed. Gibbs killed Ari and you were placed on our team.

"I know it didn't seem like we accepted you, especially Abby, but we were grieving for Kate. I guess I was the one who snapped out of it the earliest. I . . . I guess I hadn't been around Kate as long as the others, but still . . ." McGee trailed off and listened to the sounds of the humming machines.

"But you're part of the family now, Ziva," McGee concluded. "Even Abby likes you. Everyone is really worried about you."

McGee sighed loudly. "I'm not good at doing this kind of thing. I bet Tony would be spouting off a million movie references, or Ducky would be telling a story. They're good at that kind of thing, I'm better with computers."

McGee looked thoughtful, tilting his head to the side. "I guess that would make me the geeky younger brother," he mused, "and Tony, I guess he would be the older brother. Flirting with the girls, silly movie references, getting in the most trouble, that's definitely Tony. Abby's like the little sister, the one everybody loves and wants to protect. Definitely the little sister, she gets away with the most."

"That brings us to the dad," McGee said, nodding his head forward the way he usually did when he explained things to people. "I think that would be Gibbs, though he'd probably deny it furiously. Yes, he spoils the littlest, Abby, and offers 'tough love' to the rest of us. No doubt, he's probably Gibbslapping me now for saying it. That makes Ducky the grandpa. The eccentric, story telling grandpa, but a wise man good for advice. Then Palmer . . . he's like the cousin, the awkward cousin. He's just there. Nobody knows where he comes from, but he's there and that's okay. As for the Director, I guess she could be the mother, but it means that she should be the mother to the whole agency . . . you know, being the director and all. Maybe the step-mum? She and Gibbs . . . well, there is or was definitely something there . . ."

McGee shifted in his seat as he finished his family analogy. He looked at his watch. Half an hour had passed since he had first stepped into Ziva's room.

'I bet Gibbs is . . .' McGee thought, but was cut off by the shrill sound of his cell phone. Fishing it out of his pocket, McGee looked at the ID. Boss, it said.

He smiled knowingly at Ziva. "Definitely the father.