I'm hurt, not dead
Joseph drives a different route. They are driving by the Capitol when Joy speaks her first words, "I feel like I'm fifteen again." McGee looks at her, and sees a tiny smile on her face. "James invited me to go to senior prom with him. Dad insisted on following our car with his own to and from the prom, just to ensure that we wouldn't deviate from the set course."
McGee smiles at Joy. "And you were mad at him for being overprotective," he guesses, and he's surprised when she shakes her head.
"No, I felt secure in the knowledge that, if something happened, I had someone else to drive me home. No need to depend on a ride from some punk who had too many drinks on his first date."
McGee gives out his hand to Joy, who intertwines her fingers with his. "What happened then?"
"We went to prom, danced, laughed, and came home." Her eyes lose focus, and she distractedly rubs her thumb on his palm. "He left the next week for the University of Arizona, the last thing I heard he was teaching anthropology at UCLA."
McGee squeezes her hand in his, and looks out of the window, without really seeing the monuments they were driving by. "Did you love him?"
"Who?" asks Joy, confused.
"This James," he says, trying to hide his jealousy, but failing miserably.
Joy shakes her head, remembering those long forgotten days. "I was fifteen, I had no idea what love was. I only had one friend during my school years, and that was James. We never really fell in love, we just were always there for each other, the two musketeers, one for all and all for one."
McGee can't resist the temptation to correct her. "There were three musketeers."
"Duh, you know what I mean." She smiles and punches him lightly on his shoulder. He moans in pain and she cringes. "Sorry, I forgot…"
"It's ok," he hisses, biting his lip in pain, and leans his head back on the headrest.
"Are you in a lot of pain?" She slides closer to him, touching him lightly on his arm.
"Just when I breathe," he says with his eyes closed.
They stay silent, and Joy waiting until his breathing normalizes and the lines of pain slowly fade from his face.
McGee turns to her, and sees her staring at their hands in her lap. "What now?" She looks at him with a question on her face. "What do we do now?"
She shrugs. "I have no idea. They put me on unpaid leave pending the investigation. You'll be out of the field until the doctors say you're ok to go back. I think we'll have to wait and see how things sort themselves out."
McGee studies her face, and despite their difficult situation, he almost sees a placid look on it. "Aren't you worried about your career?"
She smiles at him, a small smile but a smile nonetheless. "I had exactly the same conversation with Gibbs this morning. I'm not worried because, whether I worry or not, the Powers That Be will decide my future and I'll have to live with it. But I don't regret a thing of what I did last night. I never will. My choices were simple, either my life and yours or theirs, and if I had to go through it again, I would do it all over again."
"You really would?"
She silently nods, and McGee lifts his arm, silently asking her to lean against his side. She obeys, very carefully trying not to press on his tender ribs or any other injury. McGee kisses her forehead, and tries to come up with anything to say to her, but his mind is completely blank.
"It's ok, Tim," she says, as if she had sensed his inner turmoil. "It's ok now."
McGee looks at the rearview mirror and sees Joseph smiling at him. He nods at Joy's father, who sets a course for Georgetown. As they arrive to at the Buchanan's townhouse, McGee's Porsche is already parked before it, right in front Maggie's Toyota.
"What's my car doing here?" He asks as he leaves the car. He only receives a shrug from Joy.
"Maybe it missed you, and decided to come for a visit." She smiles at him. He just shakes his head at her weird sense of humor.
As they enter, Maggie informs them that Matthew took Sarah upstairs to show her new room, that Temp and Hope had prepared for her. They went to Waverly and McGee's apartment and carefully packed as much as they could. The essentials were already in the townhouse. The sisters were just waiting for Sarah and Tim to check what they wanted to be brought to the house and the rest would be sent to storage.
"We have a couple of hours before people start arriving for dinner." Tim feels Maggie's eyes watching him, as he can't hide his tiredness. "Joy, dear, why don't you take Tim to your room and let him rest for a while? When dinner is ready, I'll let you know."
Joy nods to her mother, and leads McGee upstairs to their room. She pauses at the top of the stairs, her hand firmly on the banister while the other squeezes McGee's hand reflexively.
McGee notices her staring at the empty spot in the corridor, where her sisal carpet used to be. "Something wrong?" He asks softly, as he sees that she's deeply disturbed.
She points to the empty spot. "I killed a man here yesterday." She lets go of his hand, and keeps walking to their room. McGee sees her slowing down, looking at the walls and at the floor. If he hadn't been told, he probably never would have guessed the small battle that happened in that corridor last night.
She stops before her door, and sees that the cleaning crew had been their efficient selves again, and a brand new door had replaced the old one with bullet holes, and the corridor wall had been fixed. The holes had been fixed, and the wallpaper had been replaced. The blood that had pooled on the wooden floor had been cleaned, a whole section of the wood flooring had been removed and substituted for new wood tiles. There was no evidence of the battle of the previous night that McGee could notice, except for a faint the smell of brand new wood and wax in the air.
McGee sees her hesitating before her own door, her hand slowly sliding over the frame, as if looking for imperfections in the grain.
"Are you going to be ok?"
She glances at him, and he feels her studying his face and bruises for a moment. "I will be."
She opens the door, and brings him into the room, closing the door after him. The bedroom is exactly as she left it the night before. The towel she was wrapped in still on the floor. She picks it up and brings it to the ensuite bathroom, hanging it to dry.
McGee feels strangely uncomfortable, for a moment he doesn't know what he should do. Joy comes out of the bathroom, and see's him in the same place by the door.
"Let me help you." She approaches him and slowly undoes the buttons of his shirt, being careful not to touch any of his bruises. He stares at this amazing woman, seeing her silently taking care of him, her dark curls framing her serious face, as she studies more of his bruises on his arms being slowly unveiled as she takes his shirt off his shoulders.
"Does it hurt much?" she asks softly, as she touches a particular purple spot on his arm, her fingertips lingering softly over the bruised skin.
"A little, as long as I don't think about them, it's fine," he answers in a soft voice as well. She helps him to take his sleeveless t-shirt, careful of his bruised face and bandaged nose, so he stands naked from the waist up.
She stays silent, and he feels her studying each of the purple bruises on his torso. She lifts a hand and gently touches a particular one on his chest, her soft touch bringing goose bumps to his skin. Her hand retreats as she feels his reaction, but he catches it before it moves away.
"Sorry." She mumbles.
"No, it doesn't hurt." She looks at him, and he shrugs. "Your hand is cold."
He feels himself responding to her intense stare. He leans down, but she moves her head, freezing his move. "You're hurt, Tim," she says softly, as to justify her reaction.
He studies her for a moment, and despite his aches and pains, he feels the need to be connected to someone, to feel cherished and cared for, and she's denying it to him.
"I'm hurt, not dead."
He waits patiently for her to decide, his hand softly caressing her smaller one, asking for her permission. She nods, and leans again. They kiss softly, mindful of his bruises and his bandaged nose.