Some notes I add in the start of the chapter to make things clearer in regards to the story:

1. In case it's not clear, Tim and Gibbs have a deeper friendship in this story that will be told via flashbacks.

2. Unbeataed, so all mistakes are mine. And since English is not my first language you will forgive me. Right?

3. Italics are memories/flashbacks.

Chapter 2. Information is shared

Gibbs didn't know if it was the verbal confession of his sister's death, or the alcohol he had made him drink earlier that led to Tim's sleeping, but he spent the night leaning against the headboard of his guestroom's bed holding his subordinate in his arms. Each time the other man seemed restless, he found himself talking him back into sleep. It was a surprise when he woke up before the sun came up that he had slept even a little. His muscles were on fire by sleeping half sitting with a heavy man draped over him.

But it could have been worse. Bumpy air flights, freezing draught ground, soggy bunks, not to mention his desk in the office were only a few of the places he had slept in the past. Taking care of Tim for one night could hardly be considered a hardship.

Getting up from under McGee proved to be a bit more difficult; Tim's fingers were gripping his shirt. Gibbs tried to disentangle them but Tim's hold became tighter. "Come on, Tim, let me get up." He whispered softly in his ear. The other man hands eased their grasp and he could get up. He ran his fingers through McGee's hair. "Good boy." Gibbs had noticed his agents instinctively follow his orders, Tim most of all.

He made a beeline to the kitchen before going in his bedroom to change. With a glance at Kelly and Shannon's photos he pulled out clean clothes from the closet. The rain had stopped but the shutters were moving harshly against the window because the strong wind. It was still dark outside.

By the time he had the coffee maker running, he heard McGee coming down the stairs.

"I'm sorry for last night, Gibbs," Tim said looking down at his feet. The younger man had worn one of his hoodies as he'd kept doing every night he slept at Gibbs'. "It's cold in here."

"Sit down, Tim. When was the last time you ate?"

"What did you gave me to drink last night? My head is clinking…"

Gibbs smiled at him. "Seriously, how are you today?"

"When I don't think about it, I'm OK. When something reminds me what has happened I can't breath." He shrugged as if it didn't matter. "Sarah…" he swallowed hard, looking down at his feet. Slowly he let his head rest on his knees as his voice was muffled by the material of his trousers. "Sarah was in Italy for years. Lately we didn't talk much, not even in skype. That's why I went to see her. I had missed her." He looked up and Gibbs remembered his own face in the mirror after being informed his wife and daughter's murders. Disbelief warring with pained acceptance.

"I brought Paul with me. I left him at my parent's house, but Sarah and Sergio have left a will that name's me the kid's guardian. Need to look after it." Gibbs pushed a cup of coffee in front of him. "Thanks, Gibbs."

"What are you planning to do with kid?"

Tim's eyes misted again at the question. "I just don't know. Sarah wanted me to have him if… if anything happened to her. But how, how can I, Gibbs?"

His Boss sat next to him. "You don't need to decide now."

"Well, I don't, but these things don't wait. It's my nephew. I am not married, what woman would like to raise another person's child? Certainly not the ones I have dated." Tim sounded bitter concentrating on his hand as his ran his fingers around the cup's edges.

Gibbs swallowed the rest of his coffee and got up. "I'm going for a shower." Passing next to Tim's chair. "We'll think of something." He said ruffling Tim's hair. It felt good to be able to do that since it has been a long time since the last time he had done it.

"Yeah, OK." Tim answered absentmindedly.

-NCIS-

"Are you coming to work today? DiNozzo and David are impatient to see you again." Gibbs asked him while climbing down the stairs.

"I have this day off, Boss. Vance knows and I can't deal with them now. Neither with Abby." A sip of the cold by now coffee had him splattering liquid on Gibbs' handmade mahogany table. "Sorry, Boss."

"I'd slap you but I still don't know when was the last time you've eaten, McGee. What are you going to do today then?"

"Don't know probably go move furniture at my new place."

"No. Call Gabriel, tell him you're alright. Then I have something for you to do." Gibbs gripped McGee's shoulder. "Come with me."

"I can walk on my own, Gibbs."

His Boss gave him a good look and tightened his hold. "You could fool me, McGee."

Gibbs smiled at Tim's bewildering look as he brought them to the basement. "See these tools?" He pointed out to the hammers, chisels, carving knives, block planes, many and different files, screwdrivers and other hand tools Tim was used to seeing Gibbs work with. "Well, do you?" Gibbs asked impatiently.

"Yes, Gibbs, I can see them."

"Good." Gibbs pushed him down on a chair and sat down next to him. He pulled out paper and pencil from the drawer and settled them in front of McGee. "You'll do a project for me."

Tim was used to his Boss giving orders without him asking for it, but this time Gibbs only stared down at him. "What?"

"You'll sketch a plane and you and I will make a wooden one."

Tim laughed and the worry inside Gibbs eased at the sound of it. They could pull this through as well.

"You and I?"

"Well, mostly you but I'll be around to help. Got to go, McGee. Stay in touch."

When Tim was left along, he rubbed his eyes, getting rid of their dumpness. Gibbs had left him a list of chores to be done; shopping, bringing clothes, starting sketching. The pain his chest had not lessened yet, but having something to do would help with it. Spending the weekend with Gibbs would be his recovery time.

But, first, he had to go see Gabriel.

-NCIS-

"I really can't believe it was an accident."

"You cannot believe it, Tony, because you wanted to be a suicide. Bonnie S. Hight was a Navy Diver for 8 years. She performed seven salvage operation worldwide and provided security during Expeditionary Warfare missions. It was unthinkable to kill herself because some thugs attacked her and called her names, right Gibbs?"

"We have found no evidence it was something different than a car accident. So, case closed. Either way, it's a loss for the Navy. She was a brave, young woman."

"Right, Gibbs. So where's McGee."

Gibbs was expecting this moment to come since he walked in the building. He got up, grabbed his cup of coffee and gestured to follow him. "We need Ducky and Abby for this talk."

Ducky and Palmer met them at Abby's lab. "Jethro, couldn't you tell us.."

"No, couldn't Ducky. For one, I'm going to tell you what's going on, but no one," he stopped and pointed a finger first at Abby and then at Tony. "Not one of you will think of not following my orders. Are we clear?"

"What's going on, Boss?"

"Sarah McGee was killed when Tim went to visit her in Rone."

Shocked gasps, hands covering their mouth, and muffled crying were the sounds he heard.

"What happened, Jethro?"

"How's Timmy, Gibbs?"

"Where is McGee?"

Gibbs raised his hand to stop them. He first turned to Abby. "As well as you can expect. Meaning not well at all, but we are going there. He's at my place, Tony, Ziva, and no, you're not welcome to it. Not yet. She and Sergio went for a ride; get out having some fun after Tim volunteered to look after their son; a drunk driver hit their car. Tim stayed for the funeral; he brought Paul back home with him. He left him at his parents."

"He's blaming himself?"

"Yes, Abs, he does. But that's the least of it right now. He's mourning, but he still hasn't realised how much he's going to miss her. How much worse it will get until the ache lessens."

Suddenly he found himself with an Abby armful, her arms tightly wrapped around his neck as she cried in his shoulder.

"Poor girl. And poor boy. Her husband was Italian, was he not?"

"Yes, Duck."

"When can we come to see him, Boss?"

Gibbs had spent the day thinking the answer in that question. "Sunday night. Come at my place at Sunday evening."

"But Gibbs."

Abby's whining and soulful eyes weren't going to deter him in his decision. "He needs to settle down, be more at ease with himself and his pain before he sees you. And since he's coming back to work on Monday, you and he have to meet each other before than. I believe McGee would rather not become a spectacle in the Agency."

Tony nodded. "What happened to the drunk driver, Boss?" He asked as an afterthought.

"Got killed as well."

"But why can't we…?"

"No, Abs. No."

Everyone in the room grumbled but after seeing Gibbs wasn't going to change his mind, they reluctantly agreed.

Except for Ducky, who followed Gibbs in the garage. "I'm going to come over tomorrow to see how's Timothy." Before the other man object to it, Ducky raised his hand. "You know me, Jethro. I just want to make sure he's alright."

-NCIS-

Gabriel Roston stood to open his front door, ruffling his dog's fur that was trotting behind him. Tim stood outside, holding an umbrella in his clenched fingers. "Hey. Can I come in?" He asked.

"Yes, kid, come in.?" The moment he got inside he was grabbed in a tight embrace that didn't last long.. "Do you want me to turn off the music?" The only constant in Gabriel's home was the music playing in the background all hours of the day.

"No, let it playing. I like it."

"Sondheim."

"I know." Tim replied with a sad smile as he sat on the large sofa pushing the white cane to the other side. Tarf, Gabriel's dog sat by his feet.

Gabriel took his usual spot next to him. "Did anyone see you coming?"

"No, don't worry, I was being very careful."

"Good. I'd hate to relocate after making everything functional around here. How are you, Son?" He asked reaching out to take Tim's hand in his.

"I don't know, Uncle. Sarah's gone, and when I don't think about it, it's like everything is normal. Life hasn't changed outside of me. When my mind connects with reality is bad. Really bad. But it's not me. It's them. They're gone, they don't live and…" he tried to not cry. But it was a lost cause as Gabriel turned to wrap an arm around him. A few minutes passed, both men crying for their girl. "And then there's Paul. I need to do well with Paul. Sarah let him to me, not Mom, not Dad. How… how am I going to help him?"

Tim looked down at the wooden floor, clear from carpets or objects thrown haphazardly around.

"Paul will be better with you than your parents. See, every angel in heaven knows how much I love my sister, but she always let your father walk all over her. And you. Now, after Sarah's dead and your independency I think if you leave that child with him he will be even worse. If that's possible… and think, would your sister want her son to grow up with your Dad?"

"Even if he's his usual self, I wouldn't want that for any child much less Sarah's baby." Tim dragged his let socked feet on the no-wax floor.

"Oh, my Boy…" Gabriel pulled him in his arms again. "I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you when you needed me." Tim glanced at his Uncle. By now he was a strange blend of the man Tim remember from his childhood, strong, level headed, playful, tender, and the man who had returned from Panama; a man almost broken who isolated himself when the world suffocated him. Those two were now mixed in one person who had held him together after Benedict's case.

He and Gibbs.

And now, with his sister's passing, it was these two men whom he turned to. He pulled his legs up on the frayed, damask, burgundy sofa.

After Benedict's case, Tim found himself sitting on the burgundy sofa, all lamps turned the other side. His Uncle's home was easy to live in. Despite him making it just to be easy to navigate in it, Tim felt in ease in it from the first time he stepped a foot in. His favourite part was the sofa, so warm and comfortable looking. Maybe it was the colour, that dark burgundy fitting perfectly with the dark cypress green of the two pillows he slept on that night.

Only to wake up to find bright, blue eyes staring at him.

Tim looked around him to the photos on the walls. "How's the school building going?"

Gabriel would have wanted to continue their earlier conversation over Paul, but Tim was just as stubborn as himself. Or Gibbs'. Which said a lot. "Hey look around you. I'm a good architect. The best there is. Almost as good as a singer, right?" He asked with a smile.

"No one sings better than you, Uncle."

"One day we should do a concert. You play the piano." He pointed at the piano under the window. . "You've been the best student…." He said remembering their lessons. "Sarah sucked. Really bad. Back to out concert. I sing. People will love us. You may get the money to buy another house too. For Paul. "

"Or you can always teach Paul to play the piano so you'll have a concert with him."

Gabriel looking at him straight at his eyes without the sunglasses was making Tim almost as anxious as Gibbs standing in his personal space. His once warm, brown eyes now seemed empty. Tim swallowed as another wave of pain for things lost along the way hit him. "I'll be too old by then, young man."

"You'll never be too old."

Gabriel squeezed Tim's forearm before standing up. Tim remembered how big he used to perceive his Uncle as a child. At six feet Gabriel was shorter than his Dad and thinner but his engaging personality made him look larger than life. The black button down he was wearing showed off his trim body and Tim patted Turf knowing the walks outside in any kind of weather had kept his Uncle healthy.

Gabriel's easy navigation around the burgundy armchair brought him next to the fireplace where the piano stood gloriously. It was settled underneath a large reproduction painting of Hieronymous Bosch's 'The Owl's Nest'.

He turned the cd player off and sat at the Steinway Heirloom. Tim leaned on the pillows and raised his head to stare the ceiling fan as Gabriel's tenor voice flooded the room accompanied by the Sondheim's piano tunes.

Tim's left soon after. "Come for dinner on Monday, if you can, kid. And bright the Gunny with you, OK?"

"How about you call him to make sure he comes?" Tim hugged his Uncle one more time before he closed the door behind him. It was still raining and looking around Tim thought his Uncle's rose bushes might need trimming soon.

-NCIS-

Tim's outing brought back enough food to keep both men going for the next week. Gibbs' fridge was as usual empty and not for the first time Tim wonder why his Boss wasted power keeping it plugged. It was such a waste of money. By the time he had finished, chicken, vegetables, beef were all shorted out in the refrigerator waiting to be cooked. And Tim knew from experience that Gibbs was good at it. Being a guest to Tim meant he had to prepare that night's dinner. Pastry and ingredients ready he let them in the fridge as well until it was time for Gibbs to get home.

Afterwards, it was time to change clothes and head in the basement to check what exactly Gibbs wanted him to do. Entering the quest room he remembered why exactly he was at Gibbs' house and he took a deep, shuddering breath.

"It will get better." He said out loud. He grabbed Gibbs' hoodie he had left on the chair earlier before going down into the basement.