A/N: Need to put a disclaimer here. This story was written and completed before Christmas 2010.
It was only last week that I happened to see the syndicated episode of CSI that has a character with the same name that I used in this story.
There is no relation; despite similarities both venues attributed to the character.
Fifteen minutes later and everyone had returned to their desks and normalcy had returned to the squad room. Case work was once again, the call of the day. As the reports were typed up and placed on the boss' desk, the squad room got quiet. Too quiet.
Gibbs looked up to find two of his three agents silently having a paper ball fight across the space between their desks and his youngest agent, typing away like he was actually still working on something. With the realization that it wasn't the current case they'd just nearly put to bed, Gibbs knew it probably was a cold case; as McGee often busied himself going back over the electronic trails of them when he was bored. Noting the time, he smiled inwardly at the break he was getting ready to offer his team. Hell, they'd earned it. They'd busted their asses on this case and it had been solved quickly because of it. With that in mind, he opened his mouth and made their day.
"Go home!"
Wild cheetahs couldn't have beaten Tony and Ziva to the elevator once the words were spoken and they high tailed it out of there at only 5pm. On the other hand, newly hatched baby turtles scrambling for the safety of the ocean could have beaten McGee to it. The young man hadn't budged. He continued with what he was doing as if Gibbs hadn't even spoken.
"McGee!" Gibbs barked from where he stood behind his own desk.
Tim stopped typing and looked over at his boss. "Boss?"
"Go home!" the boss ordered in the tone no one argued with.
Tim nodded his head just enough that it would be taken for his agreement, and closed down his workstation. He wasn't completely successful in hiding his reaction to being sent packing. With his shoulders slouched in what ordinarily would be considered a defeated posture and his eyes now downcast and shifting with something unsettled shadowed in the less than bright green orbs, it didn't take a genius to see that this wasn't what he'd wanted to hear.
Gibbs took note of it and left him in peace. If the kid wanted to talk, he'd spill whatever was on his mind in his own good time and not before. The best thing the boss could do for him now, was give him a push in the right direction; one that would guarantee he'd get a good night's sleep.
Tim left out of the building, stowed his gear in his car and walked. Without thought to the lateness of the hour or the chill in the air, he walked. It was hard to even think of driving anywhere, much less home where he couldn't even sleep. What would be the point? Finally, his legs gave out and he found himself nearly falling into the bench, surprisingly back in front of the NCIS building. He'd walked in circles and hadn't even noticed. Tim couldn't get his mind to stop replaying the events that had shaken his world to its' outer limits; just two weeks ago:
****Flashback***
"Tim McGee" he answered his ringing cell phone without looking at the caller id. Being in the car on the way back from a crime scene had his focus on the case and not the call and so his mother's voice shocked him.
"Tim."
"What's wrong?"
"You need to come home. You're father…"
"He's gone. You have to accept that. What happened?" Tim strove to keep the conversation as neutral as possible, unwilling to let the team in on this personal situation. Gibbs was already eyeing him in the rearview mirror as he attempted to illicit the information out of his obviously very upset mother.
"I've been going through his papers. When he died six weeks ago, I found out about his safe deposit box."
"Can this wait until tonight when I can call you back?"
"Oh, yes. You're working. I'm sorry."
"It's okay. Let me call you back tonight, all right?"
"Okay, honey. You won't forget now, will you?"
"I won't forget. I promise."
"Okay. I love you."
"I know." Tim answered as he hung up the phone. Swallowing hard, he turned his head to stare out the window. He knew his boss was looking at him, but he also knew he'd done the best he could to hurry the personal interruption along and get things back to the right focus; at least for the rest of them. For him, his mind wouldn't cooperate now.
It was unusual for Tony to leave him in peace but for some reason, the rest of this ride back to the office was accomplished in that fashion. Tim, for one, wasn't complaining. He spent the rest of the drive back worrying about what his mother had been talking about.
***End Flashback***
At the time of that call, he hadn't told anyone about his father's death, six weeks prior. They'd been off the weekend he'd gotten the call that his father had been killed in an accident. Although, he hadn't seen his father in several months, due to their incredibly busy work schedules, he had spoken to him every weekend without fail. They'd always been close and it was the only thing that had kept Tim from falling apart whenever Gibbs appeared cold and uncaring in the face of things that had gone wrong at work or Tony became almost unbearable. Even the times Abby had seemed to become distant had sent him to the phone to call his father; needing to touch base with the grounding force that helped him keep his head on straight and in the game when he wanted so badly to give up and walk away.
Being able to call his father and lean on him and know he'd always hear that he was loved and respected even if it was from afar, had kept him going when nothing else could. And now that unconditional love and support was gone.
Only one person had been clued into the truth of why he hadn't come to work that one Monday he'd taken off. Director Shepard not only knew exactly what had been going on, but also why Tim chose not to tell the team; well, she knew what Tim had chosen to use as his explanation for not telling them. He'd kept it simple. He'd wanted his private life to remain private.
There was a part of Tim that wholeheartedly refused to be gut-wrenchingly honest with anyone other than Gibbs and since that wasn't happening any time soon, he'd made due with simplifying his reasons to the one person he'd had to tell, so that if it all ever came out, no one would have felt like they'd been slapped with the lack of honesty. Honesty, after all, was everything.
In the weeks following his father's death, Tim had tried very hard to maintain his normal persona, but had found it harder every day. There had been several times, he'd wanted to find his way to Gibbs' basement and talk to the man like he'd never been able to before. But, that was the rub. They'd never talked. Not in the three years he'd been on the man's team. Why would the man even want to listen to him now? Wouldn't he just tell Tim to 'get over it'?
Wasn't that what he'd told Kate when she'd killed that Petty officer? His mind had questioned. After all, Gibbs had called it suicide by cop. Kate had relayed that story to him when he'd needed to hear it; when Erin Kendall had been murdered on his watch. Rationalizing that this wasn't even close to killing someone, Tim had realized that it stood to reason that the man would be far less sympathetic about the situation with his father than he had been in Kate's situation. It had hurt to come to the decision he'd come to, grounded in fact as it was. The former marine's lack of tolerance for anything that resembled weakness would not help, even if having someone at work to talk to, would.
Ducky, on the other hand; Ducky was a different story and Tim had known this without question. Still he hadn't been able to bring himself to talk to the man about any of it. A part of him stayed too worried that it would get back to Gibbs; not because Ducky didn't keep confidences, but because Gibbs was a damn good investigator and an ace at putting pieces of puzzles together. Tim remained fairly sure, it wouldn't have been long that the end result of that would have been just as bad as if he'd actually broken down and talked to the man himself.
He hadn't even been able to talk to Abby. Her propensity for bulldozing through whatever she didn't want to hear and zoning in on only what she did want to hear would not have helped in this situation and still wouldn't even today, some two weeks later. Her child-like way of seeing most things, even personal ones, was an unwelcome possibility that had weighed heavily into that decision as well.
Ziva was a different story, he'd reasoned out as he'd processed who he could talk too. She had been through so much worse that this in just the past two years, Tim couldn't even consider dumping any of this on her!. It just wasn't even something he could even think about for longer than a minute without feeling really crappy about it. He valued her friendship much too much to do that to her.
And then there was Sarah. She was coping. His little sister had been keeping herself busy with school and even working on transferring out to California where their mother was moving to. She'd broken the news about both upcoming changes when Tim had gone home for his father's funeral. Though it had been a shock, Tim had completely understood, though, once he'd been able to process the whole situation. His mother had needed to make changes in her life that would make the passing of her husband more endurable. His sister had needed change for the same reason. Tim couldn't begrudge either of them that, even if it meant he'd be on the east coast all by himself from now on, with no family support to fall back on.
And so, for six weeks, Tim had steadily ploughed through each day, silently grieving for his father and hurting at the upcoming loss of the rest of his family; all the while, outwardly doing his best to keep his 'normal' mask in place. He'd done a fairly decent job of it and hadn't even raised more than a couple of eyebrows in concern. Tony and Ziva hadn't picked up on anything and the fact that things stayed the same with them, actually kept Tim's head in the game.
Now, all of that was possibly changing. He recalled thinking that on the day he'd gotten the phone call. With determination that would have made his father proud, Tim had made it through the rest of the day with his head completely on straight. He hadn't wanted a single wrong word spoken between himself and Gibbs or himself and Tony. The control he'd held onto all these weeks, of not talking or even allowing himself to let his grief out, had been too tenuous as it was. The last thing he'd wanted to do was snap off on anyone.
Thankfully, Gibbs had apparently found some compassion from somewhere and slipped it to Tim, quietly and without any other discussion, giving him permission to leave earlier than the others that day with a mere slip of paper with 'go home' written on it in the man's scrawl, literally dropped into his hands as they held the cold file he'd been perusing. With a nod of silent appreciation, Tim had closed down his work station and slipped out as inconspicuously as possible. As soon as he'd gotten in his car and headed off the base, he laid his phone out in his lap, hit the speaker phone and called his mother. Even now he recalled that conversation as vividly as if it had happened yesterday.
****FLASHBACK****
"Mom, I'm off work. What's going on?"
"You need to come home. I found some papers here that you need to see."
"Not possible. It's the middle of a long work week. I have to work tomorrow."
"Tim, you're only three hours away. Come up here, sign for these papers and turn around and go home. You won't even miss work. You're off unusually early today anyway."
"I have to sign for these papers? What are they exactly?"
"Just papers your father wanted you to have. Yes, according to the will, they need to be signed for by you."
"Which means someone will need to witness my signing for them."
"I'll take care of that. Can you just get here, please?"
"Yeah, Okay, Let me just grab my overnight bag and I'll be on my way."
"Thank you, Son. It'll be a huge load off my back to have this done with."
"Okay, Mom, I'm on my way. See you in a couple of hours."
****END FLASHBACK*****
The papers, it turned out, had been in a package with a letter from his father to Tim on top. Both of which, would forever change Tim's world; as soon as he was done reading what would essentially pull the rug out from underneath him.
Tim had read the letter first. Even now, he could recite the pain filled thing by heart
"My dearest Tim"
"First, let me say, that if you are reading this, then my worst fear has come true and I have left this world before I was ready to be taken from yours and your sister's or your mother's lives.
You know I have always loved you deeply and unconditionally. You were my son; despite the fact that you were, in fact, not my son
Yes, you read it correctly. You were not my child. I loved you as if you were. But, biologic ties were the one thing in life I could not give you. I am so sorry. Your mother and I agreed not to tell you so long as I was alive because my relationship with you was much too precious to me. I also saw no reason to take that away from you.
Now that I am gone, you deserve to know the truth. With genetic lines and medical history being somewhat important in things these days, the truth needs to be laid out there for you to understand and have the chance to deal with; even if it is hard for you to accept.
But, now that I am no longer able to be here for you. I fear your mother won't be able to go through with giving you the truth; your true family history. She fears losing you for not telling you sooner.
Whatever you do, son, please do not let this turn you against your mother. That, I beg of you. That is my final request of you. My last wish. I know I can trust you to do this for me. Keep your relationship with your mother as strong now as it has been all this time. And please continue to take care of your sister, as you always have.
The enclosed paternity tests are real and accurate. Your real father's name is at the bottom of the paper.
Always remember, son. I loved you unconditionally. Completely always.
Dad."
Thinking back now, Tim recalled how he'd leaned his elbow on his father's desk and laid his head in his hands. It had been difficult for him to control the torrent of emotions that threatened to spill over in lieu of what he'd been reading and the tears had begun to escape before he'd even realized it. For the first time since his father's death, he'd finally allowed himself to grieve. And at that point, it hadn't just tears of grief, but of anger and betrayal and the hurt of dishonesty from the very people who had so stringently enforced honesty within his own soul.
Uncaring of the time, Tim had let the emotional storm rage until it had run itself dry; packed up his paperwork, barely glimpsing the name on the paternity test; and set it back down. Breathing deeply, he'd looked at it more closely, the name jumping out at him from the paper so glaringly, he'd dropped it onto the desk and struggled to breathe. Lucas Martin
That name had rung a bell in Tim's mind and it hadn't been a pleasant one. Booting up his father's desktop computer, he'd quickly done a search on the name. As the search produced too many results to count and none of them good, Tim's blood had run cold. He steadfastly created a file with every source he found on the information he'd requested, copied it to a flash drive, of which his father had always kept a supply handy; erased his search, closed down the computer, and headed toward the door. He'd wanted to leave without another word to his mother. His pain, sense of betrayal and grief too raw.
His mother had met him at the door, physically blocking his path, obviously desperate for the chance to find out what those papers were. Her husband had never told her he would be leaving Tim any papers, this much he'd remembered her saying over the phone before he'd gotten there. She had been clueless.
"Tim. Honey. What is it? What were the papers about?"
Tim had stopped in his steps and glared at his mother, his manners temporarily thrown by the wayside as his anger had taken over.
"Were you ever gonna tell me?" he'd asked her in a clipped angry tone that he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she had never heard from him before.
"Tell you?"
"LUCAS MARTIN!" he'd yelled at her while reaching for the door handle on the front door.
The color had drained from his mother's face and only Sarah rushing up to offer physical support to her, had kept the older woman from falling into the floor in a heap.
"Timothy McGee! What the hell is wrong with you?" Sarah had bellowed
"Ask Mom!" Tim had yelled back at her as he stormed out and jumped in his car. Peeling out of the driveway, he allowed himself to drive only so far as to be out of sight of the house before he pulled over and forcefully calmed himself down.
It was a wonder he made it home safely that morning. It was after 1 am when he got in and sleep was a distant idea that hadn't even come close to his door that night. He spent the night going over the information he found and digging up more. Each shred of information he found only served to dig the hole deeper that had opened up underneath him on this trip home. Suddenly, he found himself standing on the edge of an abyss.
***End Flashback**
For more than two weeks now, he'd stood on that edge and yet somehow, managed to keep his footing, albeit, just barely. It was a wonder with the amount of sleep he wasn't getting every night becoming more and more than what he was getting. He couldn't even remember the last time he ate something or even what it was. Today, he'd made a decision. He was ready to stand by that decision, after he got a second opinion on it, that is. Pulling out his cellphone, he called the one person who he could talk to without fear of judgment or belittlement of what he needed to say, so bogged down with it all, he forgot why he'd refused to call him in the beginning.
********NCIS****************
"Hello? Ducky answered his phone as he and Gibbs headed down to the parking garage.
"Ducky, did I catch you at a bad time?"
"Timothy? No, lad, not a bad time at all. What can I do for you?" Ducky asked as he and Gibbs both froze in their joint trek home.
"I really need a second opinion about something. But I need it to stay just between us, if that's okay?"
"Certainly, young man. Just tell me where you are and I will be most happy to come talk with you."
I'm out front of our building. On the bench."
"Timothy, did Jethro not send all of you home hours ago? Are you telling me that you have been here all this time, lad?" Ducky asked incredulously.
"What time is it?"
Tim's question screamed disorientation which worried the M.E. "Well, lad, it's almost 9 o'clock. I understood from Jethro that he sent your team home at the unusual hour of five."
"I just felt like walking. I was in no hurry to get home. Besides, I had a lot I needed to think about."
"I do hope you have not allowed yourself to become chilled to the bone, young man." Ducky scolded.
"I'm fine. Really."
"Well, I shall be there momentarily." The M.E. soothed.
"Thank you, Ducky." Tim replied quietly before he ended the call.
"Duck?" Gibbs asked with concern.
"It would appear, Jethro, that young Timothy has been here all along. Walking and thinking. He's asked to speak with me as he needs a second opinion about something. I do hope he hasn't made himself sick from being out here in this cold all this time."
"Where is he?"
"Out in front of the building. Jethro, he has asked for this to remain confidential." Ducky warned.
"Got no problem with that. You know that, Ducky, unless whatever this is about starts to affect his job. Let me know if there's anything I can do. And see if you can get him to tell you why he's not getting much sleep these days." Gibbs said as he patted the M.E.'s arm and headed toward his car, waiting until Ducky had walked back out to the front of the garage and then drove out, heading home.