The rest of the weekend returned things to normal, with Tim going back to his own home to sleep and think. Having the weekend off was a great break from work and the perfect chance to relax and rest; it also presented Tim with plenty of opportunities to catch up with his personal life. He filled his time with things that made him happy - reading, listening to jazz, spending time with Jethro and even running.
Somehow the intervals he and his dog had spent apart seemed to have helped keep things smoother between man and beast. Before he knew it the weekend was gone and the next work day was looming.
As the next week arrived, Tim was completely back on track and, after mulling it over all weekend long, even had a new mission he was determined to achieve. Without anything fresh coming their way, the team managed to make their escape early that Monday night, which actually put a smile on everyone's face for a change, even Tim's. This was what he had been hoping for. Now, he just had to hope the rest of his plan would work. If it didn't, he would have to think of something else meaningful to get his sister for Christmas.
***NCIS****
Two hours later found Tim once again sitting in front of the boss's house, this time armed with a notebook and a list of supplies he would need that he'd gotten from the DIY website. Mentally, he found himself thankful for that first night, just last week, when Gibbs had brought him here to his home to keep an eye on him. That night had given Tim the confidence he needed to allow himself to come to the boss away from work.
Somehow, he knew he was doing the right thing in believing Gibbs was the most capable man he knew for the job with which he currently needed help. The question was, would Gibbs be willing to help him? Part of his brain was telling him that Gibbs would help him, no questions asked. The other part, the more cynical, less trusting part, was telling him no way, no how, that he should know better than to even ask the man for help with something that had nothing to do with work or that didn't involve helping getting someone out of trouble.
With a determined half smile, he got out of his car, resolved to give Gibbs the benefit of the doubt. Heading inside, Tim immediately took himself down the basement stairs and stopped nearly at the bottom before sitting down.
Almost immediately, Gibbs stopped working, as he'd done the first time Tim had sought him out like this. "Something wrong, McGee?" He asked quietly at the younger man's arrival.
"Nothing's wrong, Boss. I just wanted to ask…"
"Ask what?" Gibbs' normally impatient tone filtered into his question, causing Tim to stomp down on that cynical part of his brain.
The last thing Tim wanted was to piss the man off, yet he really wanted to ask for his help – face whatever the answer was going to be – rather than give in to that old fear of his boss. Making Sarah's Christmas gift was important to him. Important enough that he had come here in May to see if Gibbs would help him get started on it. Building something from scratch like this, after all, took time and in Tim's case, the young man knew full good and well that it would take lots and lots of time.
"My parents are gone...Sarah and I don't have many keepsakes from them or our family. I really want to make my sister something special – handmade, something she'll treasure and can pass along. When she was little, she always loved our grandmother's hope chest; she loved the cedar smell and would gently play with the treasures stored in there – linens on the top carefully covering wonderful old photos, dried flowers our grandfather brought our grandmother for their first date, old letters, menus from favorite restaurants, newspaper articles, and things like that. Unfortunately, the chest was destroyed in a house fire. One of the things they wanted to do for Sarah but never got the chance – was to build her a hope chest just like it. I thought – since she's old enough now to appreciate the significance– that maybe I'd build her one for Christmas. The only problem is…." Tim nervously stumbled through his explanation.
"You don't know how to work with wood since it's not something you'd find in a computer." Gibbs quipped dryly.
"Yeah, something like that." Tim admitted with a quiet huff of laughter. "So I was wondering… Boss, would you be willing to help me make one? Teach me how?"
Gibbs looked at him for a long silent minute, as if trying to reach down inside him and see right into his soul, although the man's own expression remained unreadable. Finally, he offered his answer. "Let's see what you got." He pointed to the notebook in Tim's hands.
Tim smiled in gratitude and happiness that now his plan had a chance of succeeding. Getting to his feet he approached the older man, notebook in hand and open to the right page. The rest of the night flew by as they talked tools and lumber needed for the job.
As they planned, a crescent moon rose and shone through the basement window offering a natural light that seemed to illuminate the younger man's excited expression, full of trust and relief, bringing a hidden smile to the older man's countenance.
***NCIS***
By the end of June they had established a pattern of working on the hope chest on the weekends they didn't have to work. Even the weekends they were 'on call' were used to work on it, the teacher and the student becoming extremely comfortable in each other's company. Weeknights and working weekends became the only time Tim went home and strangely enough, those times began to feel much lonelier than he'd ever before realized.
This was especially true since Jethro had practically been adopted by the dog walker and spent most nights at her house. Since his relationship with the dog had always been less than perfect, sometimes even shaky, this seemed to be best for Jethro and Tim felt better about it. Had this loneliness always been here, a silent companion he'd never before acknowledged?
Oftentimes on those nights when he went home to prepare for work the next day, he would find himself looking back over the time spent in Gibbs' company, working with him on the project and marveling, with cheer in his heart, at the new improved relationship into which he and the boss had morphed into, without even actively thinking about it along the way.
Tim had been surprised at the endless amount of patience Gibbs displayed as they worked on the chest, since it seemed to contradict his short supply at work. Being a southpaw made for a lot of difficulty in handling regular hand tools made for right handed people, though it was a difficulty Tim had never before appreciated quite so much, Gibbs seemed to take it in stride. The boss never so much as frowned when the extra time was needed to make adjustments or corrections.
Countless times the older man would simply lay his hands over Tim's to correct the younger man's angle of a cut before it became too late or to reposition a hand tool before Tim made the first stroke with it. Before too long, the older man's guiding touch was as commonplace as them sitting down to a cup of coffee and a quiet meal together after they'd put in a good three or four hours of work on the project. More often than not, the nights he went to the older man's house to work on the hope chest, Tim would work a bit on the surprise for his sister while Gibbs went back to working on his own project.
Sometimes the boss would head out to pick up their orders for dinner; frequently he would just order in, letting the food come to them. Tim found himself looking forward to the meals they shared, the quiet conversations about things that interested either one or the other of them. As time went on, more often they found more and more interests in common, like their love of watching the stars at night and hiking as well as camping and fishing; although Tim was only happy doing it from the safety of the shore, as well as a slow infusion of humor that over the course of weeks became more comfortable between them.
Tim wasn't sure what appeased his loneliness more: the hours spent on their projects in quiet working companionship with Gibbs; the enjoyable dinners or that on those nights he'd find himself waking up on the man's couch, the next morning, a comfortable pillow under his head and a blanket over him – and always with his gym bag in the chair for his shower. Tim no longer felt the urge to sneak out and leave the man sleeping peacefully, but rather took care in quietly getting ready and enjoying a cup of coffee before the older man was up, knowing he was still not disrupting the boss's early morning routine. After more than several weekends of this, Tim found that this, too now felt like a comfortable progression, though he never thought past it or thought it strange. Not anymore.
There had been a time, not too long ago, that Tim would have cringed at the very idea of even being in Gibbs' house – much less being here so regularly - now it was beginning to feel like his second home. By the middle of July, after nearly six weeks of working together on the hope chest, that notion of being unwelcome in the man's home was a distant memory.
Although they had never shared more than a cup of coffee and quiet conversations over dinner mixed in between the hours of shop talk about the project, Tim thrived on it all. He appreciated the periods of peaceful, mutually appreciated silence as they worked and surprisingly enough, things at the office remained almost completely unchanged.
It was the little things that became noticeable the quickest as the team continued to work together day after day. Gibbs' growling and glaring had been dialed down and his rare show of easy-going humor began to come out a bit more as the days and weeks sped by. The unrealistic demands even dialed back a notch but most of all, it was Tim's new sense of pride in himself and confidence that became noticeable, although comments about any of it were met with a mere shrug of the shoulders, a slight smile of appreciation that it had been noticed and a quick change of topic.
***NCIS***
Finally, over the course of the last weekend in July, the project was completed, months ahead of Tim's expected completion date. As Gibbs helped him protectively wrap it to keep it safe from changes in the weather as well as dust bunnies, moths and mice, Tim reflected that he hadn't ever pictured Gibbs doing so much work on it with him. That certainly explained why his estimation was so far off the mark. Having offered to keep it safe for Tim until he could deliver it to his sister for Christmas, Gibbs helped him clean up the work area and return all the tools to their proper places
One last night spent on the couch, this time in complete exhaustion mixed with a sense of relief that the hard work was done, along with an intense sadness that the nights spent in Gibbs' quiet and caring company, learning new things from him, were over. Somehow through that realization, Tim felt a boldness come over him that had him cooking Gibbs breakfast that morning, setting it up to stay warm in the oven before he left the house after making sure the kitchen was spotless. This time he left before the man had woken up, as Tim didn't have the heart to face this one last time, over morning coffee in the kitchen that had become so much like home.
Between Tim and Gibbs, nothing had ever been said to the others about his project or about the boss's help with it over the past few months. Somehow, without even talking about it, they had taken the same view on the subject - that it was no one else's business. While it wasn't a secret, it also wasn't something Tim wanted to talk about with, or hear about from, his co-workers. Tim wanted his memories of those times to remain untarnished by jokes, condescension or be subject to anyone else's words or opinions.
Getting to work that Monday morning, Tim was surprised to find coffee and a breakfast burrito waiting for him on his desk - when no one else seemed to be there at six-thirty when he arrived. Smiling in appreciation, he knew in his heart that Gibbs was indeed there somewhere and had made sure he understood, by this gesture, that the man appreciated Tim's extra effort for him earlier.
The smile was still in place as the workday began, though he and the boss exchanged only the typical morning greetings before getting down to the business of starting the day. As the others arrived, the typical work day began with only cold cases to get them started. With the usual grumbling and complaining, Tony got busy before he finally got quiet. Once he settled down, the squad room became a place of almost complete peace and quiet while they worked.
It was a peace and quiet not meant to last very long, as the boss' phone rang not two hours into the day, bringing them a new case. The day was especially tough with a new case, although they found the missing person – who had simply chosen to go AWOL. Wrapping up the case and writing the case reports was a dreaded part of the process, but was completed without complaint, nonetheless.
***NCIS***
The rest of the week dragged by until Friday morning brought them yet another missing person case, this time a Petty Officer. They were beginning to feel frustrated at the time they'd had to spend chasing missing military youngsters who'd changed their minds about serving their country – or at least misguidedly rearranged their priorities. The teammates swallowed their words of complaint, bit their tongues and stayed on task, a rare occasion to be sure; but exhaustion was slowly setting in, as it often did when becoming bored with something.
By noon, everyone seemed to be in good spirits and really looking forward to the weekend, since they were off – again. Not jinxing their fate, no one mentioned being free, in fact, they were all rather too quiet even while trying to get the latest disappearance solved. Speaking only when they had something to contribute to the case, the day seemed to drag on moreso than the rest of the week. They found the Petty Officer, trying to enjoy his secret wedding and honeymoon with his new bride, but now they were all dog tired.
As if that wasn't bad enough, it seemed as though the minute they solved the case and began working on the case reports - just after seven - the boss was summoned up to the Director's Office. Happy that the case was solved and no one had been killed, at least the Team Leader didn't seem to mind being requested, judging by the half-smile on his face.
With a stormy look on his face, the boss was back at his desk not fifteen minutes later, silently getting back to work; obviously expecting them to as was nearly eight that night before the boss released them "Go home!"
"Really?" Tony asked as if it were too good to be true.
As he walked out from around his desk, Gibbs glared across the room at his Senior Field Agent – silently daring him to say he really needed to have such a thing repeated to him.
"Uhm, going, Boss. Thanks! Night, Mc Slowpoke! Zee vah."
As Tony nearly flew from the squad room, Gibbs approached his youngest agent, already gearing up to head home. Quietly, he spoke just loud enough for Tim to hear him. "My house. Thirty minutes."
As he turned back to his own desk, Gibbs issued an order without any bite. "Go home, Da'vid."
"Good night, Gibbs. McGee." Ziva replied as she hiked her gear bag up over her shoulder and headed around her desk and over to the elevator.
"Wait, Ziva. I'll walk out with you." Tim offered as he picked his bag up, preparing to head out. "Night, Boss."
From back over behind his own desk, Gibbs looked over at Tim and nodded in silent response.
Tim trudged his way to the elevator alongside his teammate. Both bone-weary and more than ready to get some sleep, their companionable silence was broken only by the tired smiles they offered each other as they parted company at Ziva's car. Though she was more than capable of taking care of herself, Tim refused to budge until she was safely on her way.
Only then did he walk over to his car, get in and head home, still marveling at the unexpected invitation – or had it been an order?
Either way, Tim's adrenaline was pumping and he found he couldn't wait for the appointed time to arrive.
