Earlier that morning:
Awakened Sunday morning by the unexpected sound of a car that he doesn't recognize, arriving in his driveway before 0800; Gibbs throws himself into a pair of jeans and grabs his sig from the nightstand drawer. Staying sharp for any sound that might tell him who has come to see him and why, he slips down the stairs in stealth mode. Thankful that his front door is ¾ glass from the top, he moves into place, stopping where he clearly can see out without being seen himself. Blinking several times, he attempts to shake the last vestiges of sleep from his brain as he remains wary and watchful
Shock pulls him completely awake at the sight of Tim McGee treading quietly up to his door with an envelope in his hand, obviously here to deliver it to him. Gibbs steps back just a bit and sets his weapon down on the newspaper sitting on the table just behind him while his eyes remain drawn by the sight of his former agent on whatever this pre-dawn mission is that has brought him here. He knows that Tim won't be knocking on his door or coming inside because that's not who Tim is. The young man would never deliberately wake anyone up this early unless it was an emergency.
Sure enough, Tim bends down and slides the envelope under the door, straightens back up, physically draws himself up straighter and turns around and walks back to his car. The fact that he's taken a huge risk and left his treasured vehicle running to do this comes to Gibbs' attention even as his eyes remain locked on the young man's posture – looking for signs that he's at least rested and more at ease than he was when they met yesterday.
As Tim puts his car in reverse and drives away, Gibbs' eyes move down to the envelope now sitting on the floor in front of his door. His name is printed across the front in bold black perfect printed letters. The idea of Tim going through the trouble of typing this up, causes him to smile briefly, before it hits him that whatever's written on the pages inside, are undoubtedly typed up as well and of the utmost importance in this ongoing situation between the two of them. Why else would Tim have gone through this much trouble when he could have simply given this to him at work tomorrow?
Sighing deeply, Gibbs scoops up the envelop and heads to the kitchen. He'll be reading this soon. But first, he has to have coffee. Several cups of coffee. Somehow, his mind choses this time to do something it rarely does at all – wander – not just down any path but down the path of way back when - back when the young man at the center of this unfolding situation was new and so different.
Many, many things come to mind, not the least of which is the boundless thirst for experience and knowledge Tim had brought with him. The quiet strength hidden behind all the bumbling and nervous yet unwavering respect hadn't gone unnoticed either. If only,… no. that's a game he cant play because it doesn't help anyone. Getting to his feet, Gibbs refills his coffee mug and sits back down, once again mulling things over.
He must have dozed because his eyes feel heavy and he doesn't remember closing them in the first place. His coffee's cold now. With a sigh of agitation, he gets up yet again. This time, he dumps out his cold coffee and refills it with a fresh supply. One more time, he sits down to think. Why he can't bring himself to open this envelope, he doesn't quite know yet.
Several cups of coffee later, drawn out by his mind going endlessly in circles, he breathes out on a sigh and wipes his hands on the dish towel sitting beside him on the table. It's time he man up and read this reaching for the envelope, he holds it in one palm, with the edges of his fingers as he absently taps it against the palm of his other hand.
A monster supply of procrastination? Maybe. He's not sure. What he is sure of, is that something's been holding him back from ripping this open and reading what's inside. Considering that by writing whatever's written within these pages, Tim has just made the whole situation a hell of a lot easier to handle, he's not sure why he's feeling such trepidation. He shouldn't be surprised by this turn of events, but somehow he is. Surprised and grateful.
Another unexpected car arrives in his driveway, chasing away all thoughts of reading the contents of the envelope now. Recognizing the sound of Ducky's Morgan, Gibbs gets up from the table and turns on the faucet to heat up the tap water so the older man's tea will come to a boil faster. It's early enough in the day that the older man will undoubtedly need a cup. Reaching down the tea, the Team Leader can't help but wonder what Ducky's doing here unexpectedly.
Knowing the kindly M.E. won't just barge in if there's no medical reason Gibbs can't come to the door, the Team Leader quickly heads in that direction, reaching the door as Ducky reaches the top of the porch steps. Swinging the door wide in welcome, he's greeted by the sound of his long-time friend's jovial greeting.
"Ah. Good morning, Jethro." Ducky greets him as he glances at his watch.
"Duck. You're out early. Somethin' wrong?" Gibbs asks as he widens the door and steps back to allow his friend to come in.
"Oh, no, my friend. Forgive me if I've come at too early a time on a day you do not have to work. I was simply already out and about and thought I would stop by to see how you are faring since it is going on eight already."
"With?" Gibbs asks as he leads the way to the kitchen.
"That obvious am I?" Ducky chuckles while they each settle into a chair at the kitchen table.
"Known you for a long time, Duck."
"Yes, you certainly have, Jethro. Alright, I shall come directly to the point then. Rumor has it that young Timothy lost his temper with you while the two of you were conversing at the coffee shop on base just the other day."
Gibbs sits back, his eyes closing in aggravation. Damn it! All the caution Tim put into not letting any piece of his leaving the team be gossip fodder and now this! Hell, it's bad enough the poor kid hadn't even stopped the gossip in the first place like he'd wanted to. He'd merely changed the tone of it as well as the content, making himself the target instead of the team that had treated him like crap. Now it's been amped up and about to get worse.
"I take it you were unaware of this being spread like wildfire?" Ducky inquires worriedly.
"Yeah."
"But, you did hear something, judging by the look on your face."
Nodding slightly, Gibbs gets up from the table to shut off the now whistling tea kettle and pour Ducky's tea. "Vance told me."
"Oh dear."
"Apparently, we have people in the building who don't have anything better to do than second guess why they haven't seen Tim standing around talking to anyone on the team since he came back from his vacation."
"From your tone, I gather that their guessing has included some far from polite speculation."
"Pretty sure Tony's knee-jerk remark about Tim being too good to talk to him that first day sums up the general attitude about it that's worked itself into this."
"Anthony said that?" Ducky asks in shock. All this time and he's never heard about this until now.
"Uh huh. The two of them had a 'discussion' before Tim went up to talk to Vance. None of us saw Tim for the rest of the day – barely at all the rest of that week." Gibbs told him, disappointment ringing clearly in his tone.
"And Anthony misconstrued that lack of time around Timothy into something hostile. It's not like your Senior Field Agent to make snap judgments such as that; especially about someone he knows and trusts."
"Duck, back then, DiNozzo was still pretty mixed up and pissed about everything coming apart at the seams. After his little talk with Tim, he didn't know which way was up and I'm not sure the rest of us did either."
"Hmmm. I suppose you're right. It was a most difficult time of adjustment. Tell me, Jethro, have you and Timothy had a chance to talk?"
"Several."
"Oh? Well, that's wonderful. How has it worked out? Have you resolved the conflict between you that led to Timothy's bold choice to leave the team?" Ducky relishes the tea at this point, ready to escape behind the cup for the moment as he pushes for the personal information.
"Duck, c'mon, you know it doesn't work that way- especially with McGee and I. Neither one of us talk much. And when we do…" Gibbs lets the point drop at that point because he knows the M.E. gets what he's saying.
"How did it go?"
"Heh. More like skirmishes than conversations."
"Oh, dear. Well, the fact that there have been more attempts after the first one failed, speaks volumes as to just how serious the two of you are taking this. That's wonderful. I'm just sorry to hear that the two of you still have not reached the point where you can converse comfortably."
"Pretty sure Tim's figured out a way to get it all out there now." Gibbs remarks as he taps the envelope lying on the table with his index finger.
Seeing the typewritten name on the envelope, Ducky calmly remarks. "Oh. I see. Well, he is a writer, is he not?
"Wouldn't say that in front of him. Don't think he's put a piece of paper in that typewriter of his since that whole mess with that psycho- until now."
"Oh, yes, the young man who couldn't establish reality from fiction."
"And damn near killed Abby before he was done." Gibbs growls.
"Jethro. Calm yourself. It was a long time ago and all has been forgiven, if not forgotten."
"Pretty sure none of us have forgotten the sight of Abby being held at gunpoint. Damned sure McGee hasn't. Like I said, he hasn't written anything since."
"That you are aware of. It may very well be that he has taken up writing under another name."
"The way that kid holds onto responsibility? Unlikely. You didn't see the look on his face when he first saw that gun pointed at Abby's head. Not somethin' I'll ever forget."
"Yes, well, be that as it may, Timothy is very strong and very resilient. And even if he has not penned any more novels, it is no wonder he thought of such a brilliant and non-confrontational way to say what he needs you to hear. Have you opened it yet?"
"Workin' my way up to it." Gibbs admits quietly.
"Yet, something is holding you back."
"Yeah. Just not sure what that somethin' is, Duck." The younger man's rare moment of admitting his own uncertainty about something strikes a chord with his friend.
"Well, I must say, that the Leroy Jethro Gibbs I know, would never balk at such a manageable challenge as this." With a teasing look and a gentle tone, Ducky chastises him with just a hint of mockery, knowing it will serve its' purpose and kick the younger man's sense of self back into working order
"Was workin' on it when you showed up, Doc." Gibbs retorts with a tiny bite to his own voice.
With a genuine smile, Ducky rises to his feet. "Well, then, I shall leave you to it, my friend. Do call if you should need anything, hmm?"
"Thanks, Duck." Gibbs replies as he walks with him to the front door.
Once the M.E. has gone, the Team Leader's attention immediately returns to the kitchen and the envelope on the table there. Determination colors his stride as he returns first to the coffee pot for a refill before sitting back down at the table – envelope once again in hand.
*****NCIS*****
Tony's Sunday morning isn't anything out of the ordinary as he allows himself the privilege of sleeping in until nine. Under the heated massage of the shower, he decides he's not in the mood to cook. Smirking he mentally reminds himself that he's never in the mood to cook unless he's out to impress someone and that hasn't happened in quite a while.
Once dressed and satisfied that his apartment is clean to his standards, he feeds Kate her goldfish food and heads out, having no set place in mind and in no hurry to get anywhere. Relaxed and enjoying the drive, he finds himself thinking back to the phone call from Ziva last night.
"Tony. I am sorry but Tim and I cannot meet you for dinner tonight."
"No problem, Ziva. Wait, there is no problem, right? Everything's okay?"
"Everything is fine. Tim simply had other plans for this evening that I was not aware of and I had completely forgotten to mention your offer to him until a short while ago."
"Don't worry about it, Ziva. Hey you said Tim had other plans. That means you're free, right? Let me take you to dinner."
"Thank you, Tony. But, I too have other plans for the evening."
"Oh. Well, okay. Whattaya say we just bump this to tomorrow night then, say six?"
"Thank you, Tony. I appreciate that. We will be there."
"You're welcome. Lookin' forward to it."
"I am as well. Goodbye, Tony."
"Later, Ziva."
***END FLASHBACK****
Tony smiles now at the realization that he's finally succeeded at something important in his personal life – holding on tightly to the friendships that matter dearly to him. Tim's the little brother he's never had (for which, he's so thankful) and while they'd talked and worked through the minefield of past hurts and misunderstandings between them, regret remains a silent yet important part of his daily thought process. There isn't a day that he doesn't, at least for a moment or two, regret the way things have changed for his friend, not because he's not happy for his forward movement with his career – but because he'll never be able to undo all that he's done that propelled Tim to that point where he felt truly expendable to them.
No one deserves to be made to feel like that and Tony's only measure of relief in that vein is the mental reminder that by the time the two of them had finished talking that night at Tim's place, it had been made clear that Tim understood that they truly hadn't meant to make him feel that way. Tony remembers being sickened at the realization that so much of the blame rested on his irresponsible and irritatingly abrasive shoulders.
Huffing out a small puff of amused breath, Tony smirks to himself. Letting himself actually feel the effects of his actions, rather than continue to try to downplay them and laugh them away, has made a huge difference in the attitude on the subject as well as his behavioral changes since then. Something his many years of hiding behind masks hadn't prepared him for. Although the past six months have been as much a learning experience with this as they have been crazy busy at work; more often than not, his free time has become his serious contemplation time and more often than not; that time spent, at least in some small part, thinking about how his behaviors and manipulations have ultimately played a huge part of the changes that have taken place on the team
Pulling up to a stop at the red light he's reached, Tony absently glances around him, noticing a diner two doors down on the left and smiling since he's still plenty hungry. Wait a minute! Those two people at the table in the window – is that? Nah, it can't be! Unexpectedly, he's drawn to his phone when it chirps at him, telling him he's got a new text message. Since the light isn't showing any signs of changing, he picks the device up and opens the text message – and smiles.
"Hungry? Join us; Diner, two doors down on the left."
****NCIS*****
Together Tim and Ziva watch as Tony parks his car next to theirs and bounds inside, obviously in a good mood, sliding into the empty bench across the table from them. "Hey, guys! Thanks for the invite! Your eyes must be sharper than we even thought, there ole Eagle-eye!"
"How are you, Tony?" Tim asks in a much quieter tone than the one the older man is using, although from the smile on his face and in his voice, there's little room for doubt that he's happy to see his former teammate.
"Me? I'm fine, Probie. I think the more important question is, how are you two? "
"We're fine." Tim is quick to offer as if not wanting to discuss this further.
"Yeah? Okay." Tony takes the hint and decides to change the subject, once he's placed his order with the waitresss. "So, Tim. What's the gossip we're only half hearing these days? And before you ask, I didn't deliberately start any about anyone – especially you. I'll admit I was pretty steamed when you first came back from your 'vacation' when you split – but, once I could think straight, I was fine and … Well, regardless, I wouldn't deliberately start any rumor anyway."
"I know you wouldn't, Tony. At least, not anymore." Tim answers him with a straight face, his tone completely serious mixed with a slice of admonishment, leaving the underlying meaning in the air between them that there's more truth to this than what the Senior Field Agent is admitting to.
"Thanks. Wait, Whattaya mean, 'not anymore'"?
"Well, since we're on the subject, do you remember back when I first got pulled onto this team? Back before you got the plague?"
"Long time ago, Probie. What about it?"
"Do you remember the little prank you thought was funny called, "Let's tell the ladies in Accounting that the new Probie Agent on Gibbs' Team is gay – just to cut down on their dating pool enough that they'd include you in it more?"
"Wow. That was like back in the stone age, man."
"I know. Just learn from it, please. Don't do it to anyone else. "
Tony sits back in shock. "Wow. I mean. Just…wow."
"What, you never thought it would come up again?"
"No, Tim. I really didn't."
"Well, it did. A lot. So, like I said. Learn from it. Please."
"Yeah. You bet." Tony's tone is now so serious, there's no doubt he's taking this at face value.
The silence that descends around the table very quickly becomes uncomfortable until Tony breaks it in his usual style – with an attempt at changing the subject.
"Okay. So, are ya gonna tell me what had you lookin' like you just lost your best friend the other day when Vance got done with you or do I have to pull it out of you because you sure didn't look like you were fine to me?"
"Maybe later, Tony. Right now, let's just enjoy breakfast, okay?" Tim is quick to ask.
"Sure. You and Ziva look real good together. I take it all things unkind that transpired way back when have been forgiven?"
Although throughout the discussion, Ziva has been silent, she now smiles softly as she recalls a pivotal moment between herself and Tim that would answer Tony's question perfectly:
It is not often you allow us to see inside of you like this."
"Only you, Ziva." Tim replies in jest, although there is a ring of truth in his tone.
She looks at him quizzically.
"What?" He wants to know
"I believe you mean that."
Smiling shyly, he hides behind his sudden need to drink until his glass of iced water is empty.
With a smile of his own, Tim answers Tony with the utmost sincerity. "Yes, Tony. Even with the rough spots, we're fine."
"So, anything we need to talk about?" Tony pushes harder, knowing in his gut that there's plenty they could be talking about but for some reason these two friends of his just don't want to share.
"No, Tony. There's not. " Tim says with conviction that can't be argued with.
Nodding in understanding, Tony stops digging as their food arrives. In companionable silence, they dig into their meals until the silence is broken with the clatter and scrape of silverware and finally the return of normal conversation between three friends.
Before they know it, the meal has been consumed and it's time to return to talking. It doesn't take Tony long to begin to take the lead on it. This time, however, Tim beats him to it.
"Tell me something, Tony. If you had to choose between asking your friend to keep a secret – possibly forever – or keeping that friend in the dark so he wouldn't be keeping things from the boss – which would you do?
Coming up:
Will all that procrastination help when Gibbs finally reads what Tim has to say?
How will Tony answer Tim's question?
Stay tuned - at least one of those questions will be answered before this weekend is over.