Thanks for the reviews and favorites. They make me so happy! Keep it up you all. After this I'm going to do about two more. Can anybody guess who they might be. It's kind of obvious. Though I might throw in a curve ball or two just to keep you on your toes...
I'm finishing the outer shell of the boat, sanding down the wood to a smooth durable resilient coat. This sets up for the painting. I hate painting I'm not artistic. I hear the hesitant footsteps above me. That can only be one person.
"Boss?" He asks before even walking down the stairs.
"Yes McGee, come on down" I state, smiling to myself. I set my hand rag down.
"Sorry to bug you boss." He states nervously as he walks down the stairs.
"You're not bugging me and what did I tell you about saying sorry?" I look at him. The probie looks at his feet nervously.
"Yeah, I need to talk to you." Tim states.
"I assume that's why you're down here" I respond. I gesture to my newly empty workbench. He takes a seat. "What do I owe this pleasure to, McGee?" Tim just fidgets.
"Love boss" He says meekly. I hand him a glass of bourbon.
"Down a few of these and then we can talk about that" I instruct, Tim, being the impressionable young man that he is, follows my orders, gulping down the bourbon and giving a weird face in response.
"How can you drink that boss?" Tim asks me, a disgusted look on his face.
"You'll get used to it" I pass him another glass. Tim takes it, staring into the amber liquid before swigging it down fast. He gagged a bit.
"I don't think I will boss" Tim chokes out. I laugh a bit. It's just like Tim to not like something like that. I refill his glass, which was another empty container I used for nails. Tim looks at it suspiciously and then at me.
"Trust me, you'll thank me in the near future" I state bluntly. Tim takes the glass and gulps it down, making another weird face in response. I stop myself from laughing again as Tim sets the glass down.
"Please…no…more…" Tim hiccups, apparently the man takes to alcohol like a fish to water. So maybe that's why I never get to see him drink.
"So, what were you saying earlier?" I ask, sitting on the floor and leaning against the boat.
"Wha was it?" Tim slurs. "Love. I need help boss-man"
"About love? Tim, I don't think I'd be the one to assist you on that. You might want to talk to…." I stop as I run the list of names in my head; Tony's out of the question, having so many different girlfriends isn't good for Tim. Ziva would be more trustworthy, but her taste in men tends to go toward the "Will be dead soon" kind. Then there's Abby's dating advice, it would be something kinky and involving a restraining order. No. So there's Ducky, but the man would probably ramble on about his past. So I guess I'm the only logical choice, the man with three ex-wives.
"You're the one." Tim states, "I need to…to…talk to you" Tim blinks slowly probably trying to un-blur his vision.
"Ok McGee. Tell me." I cross my arms, looking at the young field agent.
"Well, I've been thinking about this for awhile now…" Tim slurs. "Ever since Amanda tried to kill me…am I that stupid Gibbs?" He looks at me in drunken stupor. I shake my head no. I smelled something funny on her but my gut was so wrapped up in the case that all it did was twinge when she was around. "Do you even think she felt anything to-wards me?" He looks at me like he actually expects an answer. I can't tell him anything. My co-workers private lives are just that, unless they involve a case, which I have noticed often does. "Can I just give up boss? Like not ever having to worry about it?" Tim is defiantly drunk.
"There are ways, but I'm sure you'd not want to go down those roads Tim" I respond to his drunken answer. "You'll find someone." I reassure.
"Have you ever heard of the saying "Hidden in plain sight"?" He asks, here we go again with the damn physiology.
"Yes, I am familiar with it" I say that to humor him, I know exactly what it means; I want to know what he knows.
"I…think…what was I saying?…I think that's what it all is. A game of hidden in plain sight. Like those "I Spy" books" Tim states. I raise my eyebrow. I used to look at those to Kelly when she was young. "Or a Rubik's cube. I used to be really good at that. Just find the patterns, that's all life is, patterns." Tim continues I've never seen him ramble like this.
"So find the pattern," I state. Tim looks at me his brain, even when on alcohol, still works at a light speed level.
"I've tried. There is no pattern!" Tim looks exasperated. "Every girl I've dated is so different from the last one. Hell, does it even matter who I date anymore?! It could be you or Tony or Ziva or Abby or even Ducky!" Tim buries his face in his hands. I sit there for a few moments not knowing what to do. I'm pretty sure that the previous statement was the product of too much bourbon. It took me awhile to respond.
"Well, there's your answer Tim" I smile, standing up and watching as he looks at me.
"What do you mean?"
"You have no pattern. Sure, patterns apply to Rubik's cubes, computers, the stock market…but the human life is no pattern, it's all sporadic" I say something insightful without one drink, I must be doing pretty good.
"So then what? I find some random person and hope she's the random solution to my problem?" Tim asks, "This would be so much easier with numbers…" He mutters.
"Exactly. Tim, you don't go looking for something like that. Love is not a suspect, it's a victim, it has to be stumbled upon" I pat his shoulder after my intuitive metaphor. Tim looks at me with boyish wonder. "Let's go, it's late. And you left your MIT shirt here again" I roll my eyes and let the young field agent use my as a crutch to get up the shaky wooden stairs. I turn off the basement light. The shadowed figures sit silently awaiting the next visitor.