McGee sat in one of the chairs in Vance's office, staring over the director's head while the two listened to the reasons why Tim was no longer qualified for duty. Ducky sat in another chair, glancing sadly between the psychologist and the agent. Gibbs had been called in and was standing in the corner, arms folded, watching McGee closely. Everyone could feel his discomfort and embarrassment, and it was no wonder; a laundry list of Tim's emotional (and resulting physical) weaknesses was being read aloud, drifting in the air between the small audience.

"Though he opted not to discuss the reasons with me, Agent McGee is not fit to be in the field. His actions over the past few months make that perfectly clear. Acting as bait to lure gunmen into the forest, running into a burning building, this list goes on and on," the man said, glancing down at the list of instances he described. "Not to mention the actual evaluation; he answered unsatisfactorily in more than half the questions I asked of him."

Tim's cheeks burned. He didn't exactly want to jump into this conversation, but they didn't have to talk about him like he wasn't there. Ducky and Gibbs' unsurprised and grim expressions told McGee that they'd already known something was wrong…which meant Tony had told them. (Vance hadn't been able to fully conceal his surprise at this turn of events, so the agent supposed he'd been wrong. Tony hadn't told the director about their conversation, he'd just told everyone else who mattered in this situation.)

"Thank you," the director said to the psychologist, ending his well-meaning but upsetting spiel. "Doctor Mallard with take over from here."

The man nodded and handed Ducky the file containing McGee's psych evaluations from every test since he'd joined NCIS. Once he was gone, it was silent.

"Well, I don't have any choice but to change your field status until this is settled," Vance said, having the decency to look almost apologetic.

"Yes, Director," Tim said with all the politeness he could muster. "But with all due respect I think this is a waste of time…What do I need to do to get my job back?"

"Your job is still yours, McGee," Gibbs said.

"That's right, Timothy, you're still able to work at your desk. It's a matter of dealing with witnesses and carrying a weapon," Ducky said.

"I know, but I'd prefer to be back in the field."

"I understand. You just need to go through a full physical and psychological evaluation, and then we will decide what needs to be done before you're ready to get back out there."

"Nothing needs to be done," Tim said, looking to Gibbs for help. "Boss, if I've done anything less than what I normally do-"

"You've done more than normal, McGee," Jethro said. "That's not the problem. It's why you're doing it."

The junior agent sighed. "So Tony did tell you?"

"Only what he had to," Ducky said.

"You realize that as senior agent he was required to report the fact that you're not in a completely healthy state of mind," Vance put in. "I know you told him…whatever it is that you told him in confidence, but if something were to happen to you before he reported it, Agent DiNozzo would lose his job."

"Nothing would happen-"

"You've come close to death on the job more than once in the past month, and multiple times in the past three," Ducky reminded him.

All the arguments drained from Tim, and he let out a sigh, shoulders slumping. It once again hit Gibbs just how exhausted his agent was looking.

"Ok," McGee said softly. "What do I have to do?"

"First we will get you those tests. Would you prefer I administered them, or someone from the usual evaluation team?"

"I'd prefer to get it done with you, Ducky. If you don't mind."

The doctor smiled in spite of himself. After all of this, McGee still couldn't help but be polite.

"Not at all. Let's start now. If you'll excuse us, Director."

"After that, Doctor Mallard will notify us of what further actions need to be taken before you're let back into full-time status," Vance said.

Ducky and McGee left the room, and Gibbs and the director turned to each other.

"Damn," Vance muttered. "Why is it always your team?"

"They're the best at what they do, Leon. The same things that make them the best make their real lives harder."

The director nodded. "And your team isn't exactly the best at asking for help."

Gibbs frowned. "McGee most of all."

"I'd find it surprising if I'd never met his father. But whatever the problem is, that's just going to make things harder for him. Keep me updated, Jethro."

Gibbs left, nodding as he went.

Meanwhile, Tony sat at his desk, staring at his computer though the screen was black. He just wanted to know what was going on upstairs. Also, he knew an unpleasant conversation with Tim was in order; since he'd broken his friend's trust only an hour and a half after his friend asked him not to say anything. He wasn't going to apologize, since McGee was in desperate need of help, but he did feel very sorry for putting the younger man in such a situation. He'd just finished telling Gibbs how they couldn't put Tim on the sidelines, and already the junior agent was struggling to make sure such a thing didn't happen.

"What is going on, Tony?" Ziva's voice snapped him from his thoughts.

"What?"

"What is going on with McGee?" Ziva clarified. "It's very clear he's not acting like himself, and now he's upstairs with Gibbs and the director…and Ducky. Something is wrong."

DiNozzo sighed. Usually in situations like this, Ziva would follow him into the bathroom and ultimately hound him until he told her whatever it was she wanted to know. But that was their relationship; Ziva was territorial of Tony. The relationship between her and McGee was very different: the ex-Mossad agent was much more protective of Tim, most likely because they were such good friends, and because he was the first one to really welcome her onto the team. And despite their glaringly different personalities, they were both introverts- they understood each other. So she was more likely to respect Tim's space if he needed it because his need for privacy was not in and of itself a cry for help, the way it would be with Tony.

"I can't tell you, Ziva," Tony said. "It's McGee's business and he doesn't want everyone to know right now."

He hoped his tone had just enough warning in it for her to understand that Tim really didn't want everyone bothering him, and she nodded, though the senior agent saw her send a worried glance at McGee's empty desk.

"Is he in danger, at least? Is he sick?"

Tony looked back at Ziva, almost wishing he could tell her everything. "No, he's not. Don't worry, Gibbs is gonna take care of it."

She nodded then looked up. DiNozzo turned to see who she was looking at on the catwalk, and frowned when Ducky and Tim walked down the strip and into the conference room. Surely the two could feel their gaze, but McGee pointedly looked ahead. His behavior wasn't petulant, he was simply worried about the outcome of this series of tests and examinations. He couldn't bear the thought of losing his job. Sure, they would probably just send him down to IT or something, but the thought of being chained to a desk while his friends were upstairs working on cases was somehow even worse.

Gibbs left the director's office just as Tim and Ducky disappeared from view. The team leader glanced at his agents and they went back to work. It was going to be a long day.

...

The physical test had come first. It was the same as any other annual physical, and while it only took a few minutes, it had revealed more problems than previously thought.

"Well, the effects of the smoke inhalation seem to be steadily going away, so your lungs are otherwise fine. Your injuries from that episode in the woods have healed nicely…though you are suffering from exhaustion, that much is certain…" Ducky tsked as he took notes on the official report. "Also, I'm concerned that you haven't been eating as much as you should. You're a sneeze away from a nasty case of the flu."

Tim grinned a little. "Thank god it is't flu season then."

Ducky chuckled despite the morbid situation. "If it were flu season you would have been in bed a week ago and we'd never have noticed anything was wrong."

McGee frowned. "Nothing is wrong, Ducky, really."

The older man sighed. "I know it seems that way, but apparently, yesterday you told Tony that you weren't fine. You must know that your behavior has been destructive recently."

The agent didn't answer, and Ducky went on to test his reflexes and reaction times.

"Well, you don't seem to move as quickly as usual, but that's a result of the exhaustion. I assume you've had trouble sleeping for quite some time now?"

There was no use in lying. They both knew the answer.

"No, besides last night, I haven't slept well at all for the past few months."

"I see. I wasn't there, but it seems to me that your restful sleep last night is directly related to getting some things off your chest."

"I don't know. Maybe," Tim answered honestly.

"Well, with that, I think we can conclude the physical. You would be fine were it not for the exhaustion and slight malnourishment. Honestly, that in and of itself is enough to send you home for a week. But let's finish the psychological evaluation."

First, the ME asked McGee the same list of questions he'd answered earlier that day. This query was taken directly from the MMPI test meant to pinpoint a person's aggression, judgement, self-perception, relationships, regard for authority, and perception of right and wrong. Once again, Tim failed half of the categories, even while actively trying to pass. But when that was finished, the two moved on to a more genuine method of evaluation: discussion.

While Ducky had only limited training in this area, he knew enough to ask the right questions. Tim, to his chagrin, found that the doctor already knew about his father's health and his sister's ultimatums. He shook these questions off as well as he could, insisting that he didn't blame his sister.

"She's upset. If she needs to take it out on someone, then I don't mind."

"Does she often take her stress out on you?"

"Well, not…I mean, she was the youngest, right? So she got the younger child treatment, but I never really minded because I liked being an older brother."

"That's good, but over the course of your lives, she often takes her stress out on you?"

"Not…out on me, exactly. She gets angry, and I'm usually the one she gets angry at. Like all siblings. It never really affected us in the long run."

"The health of your father is serious, though. Do you think that might affect your relationship?"

"She's grieving. Her and my dad were a little closer than I was with him."

"That doesn't mean you're not grieving also."

"Oh no, of course not. He is still my dad…" Tim looked pained, but instead of pushing the subject, Ducky switched gears.

"So in regards to your behavior in the field. I have here that you have been injured multiple times over the past few months from various cases."

"All minor. Scrapes and bruises."

"Besides the time you ended up in the hospital."

"Right."

"Do you consider these injuries to be worthwhile?"

"What do you mean?"

"Do you think that getting hurt was worth it, in regards to what was accomplished each time you did get hurt?"

"Well yeah. I mean, if I have to chase down someone to stop them from hurting someone else, I will. It doesn't matter to me."

"Why doesn't it matter?"

"I don't understand, Ducky. What do you mean? My job is to stop criminals from harming innocent people."

"At the cost of your own life?"

"If necessary."

Ducky blinked. Tim looked back at him, perfectly at ease with his statement. He didn't realize that what he'd said was incredibly worrisome.

"Alright…but what about yesterday? The fire. You could have been killed."

"I had to do something. If those kids had died and I'd just stood by and watched…"

"The firefighters were on their way."

"They didn't have that kind of time. Besides, I wanted to be useful."

"Yes, I've noticed that you've seemed eager to be useful as of late. Do you feel that you were not useful before?" Ducky pushed.

"Of course. But if you're not doing all that you can do, then you're wasting time."

This went on for over an hour. The good doctor asked as much as he dared, and Tim, though politely answering every question, volunteered as little as possible. Still, his frame of mind was clearly off-kilter, which of course required serious action. Eventually, Ducky wrote some notes on the report and closed the file.

"So am I cleared for duty now?" McGee asked hopefully.

"Not yet, I'm afraid."

At the younger man's fearful expression, the ME continued. "I am really very sorry, but it's clear that I don't have a choice. You've endangered yourself enough times in the recent past that it is no longer a coincidence. And the things I've heard from you and from Tony indicate that you need some real counseling from a trained professional."

"Ducky, all the things I told Tony were just in a moment-"

"A moment of weakness. I understand that, but in this moment of weakness you mentioned that you don't care about living as much as you should, that you feel replaceable and useless. You've told me as much just from our conversation."

A lump formed in McGee's throat, and he tried to breathe calmly without indicating to Ducky how painful this was for him.

"A moment of weakness is not a moment of lies. I have to take it seriously and you should, too. I don't mean to belittle you Timothy, but if you get any worse then you could become a danger to others, not just yourself."

"What?" Tim's head snapped up at that, alarmed.

"If you get yourself hurt, you might leave the rest of your team vulnerable. When you ran into that fire, Jethro followed you. And I know that protecting innocent bystanders is far more difficult when you're consumed with the need to be actively doing something hazardous….That type of mindset would only impede your success as part of a taskforce. And adding a firearm to that mix is unwise."

Tim let that last implication go, wishing this conversation would just end.

"So, as I was saying, I have no choice but to recommend you for mandatory counseling sessions. I request at least two appointments, but the psychiatrist will determine when you are again ready to take the field-duty test."

Ducky had done this before, but he couldn't help but feel bad for cornering McGee in this way. There was no doubt in his mind that the counseling was necessary, but the whole idea had been to avoid making Tim feel like he was outnumbered.

"Ducky, please, I don't want to talk to the staff doctor."

"That's quite alright. Any licensed psychiatrist will do." Seeing the hesitation on McGee's face, the elderly man sighed. "I am sorry. But the choice is yours. You can see someone a couple times a week, and you will get your job back to the way you want it."

Tim closed his eyes. Everything was falling apart in front of him. And worst of all, his stress and pain stemmed from being trapped in situations he had no control over- mandatory psych sessions just to get his job back did not help the feeling of entrapment go away.

"Fine," he croaked. "I'll go to see Dr. Cranston."

Once Ducky turned his findings over to Gibbs and the director, Dr. Rachel Cranston was called and an appointment was made. Tim wasn't sure if the fact that she was Kate's sister made things easier or much, much harder. He'd spoken to her before, sure, but that was more for her benefit than his, and it had been mandatory for the entire team. This time she would expect him to really open up and he didn't think he could handle that. She reminded him of Kate so much it was ridiculous.

He would see her that Wednesday and that Friday and then they would discuss how long he would need to continue this therapy. Ducky warned that it could be weeks or longer, but whatever it took to getting back to normal, McGee would do.

Still, it didn't help his mood that Gibbs sent him home for the rest of the week. It wasn't ideal, but it had less to do with his mental health and more to do with physical health. Tim still looked like he would be knocked down by the slightest breeze, and Ducky insisted that he address the exhaustion before he went to see Dr. Cranston.

He finally exited Vance's office for the last time that day, and, ignoring Tony's gaze and Ziva's glances, Tim packed up and went home. He'd been skeptical, thinking there was no way he'd be able to sleep after the day's events, but his body was close to giving out and McGee was asleep before he'd finished changing out of his work clothes.

….

Tony ended up in Gibbs' basement that night. Of course, the boss had been expecting him and the door was unlocked.

Not that it would have been locked anyway.

"You did the right thing, DiNozzo," Jethro said as Tony came down the stairs. Hearing yet again didn't make him feel any better.

"Wish McGee would see it that way."

"He will." Tim was nothing if not logical, and once he was thinking clearly, he'd see that DiNozzo had acted in his best interest. Hell, he probably realized it now and just didn't feel ready to acknowledge it.

"I'm not sorry I did it," Tony said. "I don't think there was another way. He processes things differently than we do. I know I clam up every once and a while, or I talk to much, but all it takes is a slap on the head and I'm sharing all my secrets like a little girl."

Gibbs smirked, though it fell into a frown when Tony muttered. "He's really got it backwards. He thinks that he'd just be replaced, that if something happened to him, we'd all get over it and some new guy would just fill his spot."

The team leader frowned deeper. Vance had mentioned that no one would even be willing to join the team, much less fill McGee's shoes. He hadn't realized that Tim didn't know just how much he was needed in their little family, even outside of their work at NCIS. Guilt gnawed at the edges of his mind but he willed them away. McGee was in trouble and Tony felt miserable about the whole thing- this was no time to let guilt distract him.

Pushing down and ignoring one's emotions- just a sample of the healthy habits Team Gibbs exercised on a regular basis. Tony seemed to read Jethro's thoughts because he said, "None of us have ever been much better at handling tough situations."

"What about his dad," the older man changed the subject. Tony had only given a rough outline of their friend's issues earlier that day. He knew the Admiral to be a tough man, and that he was very hard on Tim, but even with his illness, it didn't make sense for him to be so distant from his son. Gibbs had no tolerance for parents who didn't love their kids enough. "He's gotta deal with that, too."

"He told me he was upset about it, obviously, but I think that's only a small part of it. The guy's been estranged from him for most of his life."

He was right. It wasn't so much that Tim had to face his actual problems as he needed to face the unseemly amount of emotions that had come with the problems. He'd been so focused on trying to move forward that he was just dragging it all with him; just carrying it on his shoulders while it threatened to crush him.

They sat there for a while, the basement quiet save for the sounds of Gibbs' woodworking. DiNozzo considered calling Tim, but he knew that no amount of talking could fix things between the two of them until McGee had talked with Dr. Cranston for a while. Not that Tim would listen to him at the moment anyway after he'd spilled all of the younger man's secrets- apologies wouldn't cut it this time.