Tim pulled the door behind him, closing the door on the house of grief. Sadness hung over the house, weighing all the occupants down. He felt a woosh of cool air, as he stood on the porch. He regretted the fact, that he had left his coat inside.
Ziva and Tony were two steps ahead of him, in matching all-black outfits. Tony jangled the car keys in his hands. Ziva rubbed her gloved hands together. For a moment it felt like they were on a case, and the tragedy was not his own. If only things were that easy to seperate.
How many times had they stood mere meters away, from people going through their worst nightmare. It seemed morbid to think about now.
He leaned on the door. He was just so tired. The two days, since his father died, had been so long. Not punctuated by sleep. The past two nights were spent tossing and turning.
"Thanks guys," McGee uttered.
His friends looked up at him. Concern etched on their faces. They wore matching tight frowns.
"Picking Delilah up, was no issue," Ziva said quickly.
"Yeah," Tony added before McGee could say anything. "We were happy to do it."
The two of them were so in sync. Such a team.
"It is what families do, no?" Ziva uttered.
Delilah had braved nearly a full day of flying to get here, for this. Swapping her much prized Christmas leave with a colleague, for a much sadder occasion. Still, when he had seen her again, he had felt just a tiny bit better. She was here. Her arms had wrapped around him, and for just a second it all felt a little bit better.
"Still," McGee said softly. "Thank you. And for the food too."
Ziva nodded. She had presented the foil topped casserole dish to his mother, and muttered something about grief and food. Still, there seemed to a divide among the remaining McGees. Tim, and his mother Cheryl seemed content to smother their grief, with warm potato and casseroles. His grandmother Penny, and sister Sarah, on the other hand, were martyred by their grief, refusing food, because mourning had stolen their appetite.
"This isn't how I pictured meeting your Mom," Tony muttered.
McGee's mother, had moved to Scottsdale, when Sarah went to college, leaving her husband in the process, and eventually meeting and marrying a man who worked in real estate. This man, had been everything John McGee was not. He was attentive, emotionally competent, and semi-retired, permitting a life of leisure. Even though both of her children lived in the DC Metro area, Cheryl Thomas, previously McGee seldom visited, and therefore had not had a chance to meet Tim's other family.
His other family, had rallied around him. Ellie, had come back from Oklahoma earlier than planned, so that McGee could take all the time he needed. She had even sent flowers, even thought she had never met the Admiral. Abby had stopped by a couple of times, bringing food, and hugs. Gibbs had stopped by. Ducky had come to talk to Penny, and the two had gone on a walk. Penny had seemed more at peace, when she came back into the house. Tim was so glad for both families. Love was never divided but multiplied.
McGee, knew his mother was struggling. Once upon a time, she had loved John, and she had given thirty years of her life to him. Still, she struggled to grieve for him now. Instead, she put all her energy, into making sure things were organised. She had taken on all the administration tasks of John's dying and funeral. Now, she hovered around, a nervous ball of energy, trying to support her children, and her former mother-in-law, who she had rather admired.
McGee had overheard, Cheryl on the phone to her new husband, trying to articulate all the complicated feelings, the last few weeks had stirred up. McGee wondered if, the new husband understood.
McGee, also wondered, or rather hoped, that with his Dad gone, he could build a better relationship with his Mom. A closeness. Like the budding one he saw between Tony and his father.
"Neither did Delilah," McGee replied.
Delilah had met Cheryl with a nervous smile. They were now sitting in the dining room, of Penny's house, eating Ziva's casserole, and not saying much. Jetlag and grief were creating walls in conversation. McGee hoped, that a friendship would develop between the two.
"She's handling it like a champ," Tony murmured. A smile of pure pride on his face.
McGee nodded. She was.
"How are you doing Tim?" Ziva asked. Her voice soft and calm. Soothing, like sitting in a warm bath after a cold day.
How was he doing? He didn't even know. Sometimes he felt numb. Sometimes, the residual anger he had toward his father, boiled to the surface. Mostly, guilt suffocated him. Why couldn't he just be sad like Sarah was? Why wasn't his relationship with his Dad, like the one Sarah had with him? Why was this so hard?
"My Dad died," he said, his voice cracking, and his throat tight. Sticking to the facts, was all he could do at the moment, like the good scientist he was.
Ziva stepped closer to him. Almost close enough for a hug. So many people had hugged him the last few days.
Her nose was red, from the chill in the wintery air. Her eyes with glassy. It hadn't been so long since her own father had died. It hadn't been so long since she had to listen to people, talk about how fantastic her father was, while she was simmering with anger.
"Yeah," Tony said. A filler word.
McGee blinked looking at his friends. They were familiar with this dance. Tony was a child, when his mother died. Eight years old, compared to McGee's thirty five. It felt so young. Ziva had lost so many people in such a short space of time. Her mother. Her sister, how McGee still felt his stomach ache when he thought of Ziva's sister, how his mind always turned to his own sister. Ziva had lost her father too. Less than two years ago. That wound was still so fresh.
"I don't know how to feel," McGee said, his voice neutral. "Things with my Dad, they were, they were-" he found himself stopping. Not wanting to speak ill of the dead.
"Difficult?" Ziva offered. Tossing the lifeline from the deck of the ship, as McGee drowned in the choppy sea.
If anyone would get what he was feeling, it would be Ziva.
"Yeah," McGee finally said. "And I don't know how to feel."
Sad. Angry. Mad. Guilty. He carried so guilty.
"Sarah is so sad," McGee said. Sarah's eyes were red with tears. "Penny is devastated."
It was unnatural to bury a child. The cruel twist of fate, saw Penny nursing the same son, she had once taught to walk. Tim wondered how Penny was still standing. How had grief not knocked her down to the ground. She always the strongest of all of them.
"Of course," Ziva whispered.
"Even my Mom is sad," McGee continued, feeling his voice get harsh. "I mean why, wouldn't she be. They were married for thirty years. But, things are complicated for her."
Things with his Dad, were so complicated. For a lot people.
"You are allowed to feel, however you want," Tony said softly. Tony stepped closer to Tim. Tim could smell Tony's aftershave. They seldom stood so close.
"I don't really feel anything, right now," McGee finally admitted. "I think it will come later."
He suspected that once he was alone, he would let go, and the dark thoughts would ruminate. The grief would come freefall. There would likely be tears. Tears for his father. Tears for the relationship they never quite managed to mend. Tears for not having a normal father-son relationship.
"Maybe," Ziva whispered. "Things are easier when it is quiet."
When he did not have to pretend to be the bereaved son of the Admiral. When he did not have to worry about his grandmother or his sister.
"It'll just take time, I guess," McGee continued.
He knew this. This was not his first rodeo on grief. This was the first time, death had come so close, that he could remember. He was barely out of diapers, when he had sat through his grandfathers Navy funeral, with honours, but even then he was just sad.
"Yes," Ziva replied. "When it all comes to the surface, if you need someone to talk too, I'm here."
"Me too," Tony added.
He looked at his friends. Who greeted him with warm faces, and open arms. He knew he would take them up on their offer eventually. Perhaps, he would seek each of their consuel individually, or maybe together, over dinner and wine. Maybe, peace would be granted to him.
"I know," McGee replied. "Thanks, guys."
Thank you was not enough. How could he express how grateful he was, for two of them. Thank you for being a friend, did not run deep enough.
"Bring on 2015," Tony muttered, his own voice cracking. "2014, has been a stinker."
McGee nodded. It was only mid-November, but McGee was done with the year. So much tragedy had befallen them.
He watched as his friends shared a look. The last few months had been especially hard for them. The unexpected pregnancy, and the miscarriage. So much sadness.
"We have a lot to look forward too, next year," Ziva whispered. A half smile on her face. Ziva always could look for the silver lining.
So much joy, was ahead. Breena and Jimmy's baby, Tony and Ziva's wedding. Delilah coming back. The next year would be joyus.
"Yeah," McGee whispered.
He hoped for the happiness that would come. He would hang onto that, as he worked through this grief.
"I did what we talked about," McGee said after a few quiet seconds, directing his eye contact to Ziva. "What you did for your Dad."
A flicker of recognition crossed Ziva's face. Remembering that conversation, during their jog around the park, back in May. How long ago that felt.
Tony's eyes darted around the room. He didn't know what they were on about. McGee suspected Ziva would read him in later. Those two had no secrets.
"Oh," Ziva said. "Did it help?"
He had written a letter. Telling his Dad, that he wished things had been different. Wishing things had been better between the two of them. He had slid the letter into his Dad's jacket. Hoping to bury some of his resentment, with his Dad. Hoping to move forward.
"Yeah," McGee said. "I think it did. Time will tell."
"That is good," Ziva whispered.
"Yeah," McGee said, his voice still flat.
"We should go," Ziva said, opening her arms for a hug.
McGee stepped into the hug. Ziva's arms were tightly around him. Centering him in the moment.
Ziva let him go. Then Tony stepped up, and wrapped his arms around him. Slapping him on the back, because that's how real men hugged.
"We'll see you soon," Tony said, as he let go. "Call us if you need anything. I mean Tim, anything."
Tim noted the lack of nickname, and the use of his first name. Tony was being nice. It was weird. It wouldn't last.
McGee stood on the porch, and watched as his friends walked away. Tony wrapped his arm around Ziva's waist, and they walked out into the street. The two of them kept talking, a low murmur that McGee couldn't hear.
Tim stood on the porch for a few moments. Feeling the chill of the winter air for a few more seconds. He heard the door open behind him. Delilah wheeled over the threshold, making a clunking sound. The house Penny had rented was not very wheelchair friendly.
"There you are," she said softly. "Shall we go back inside."
"In a minute," he replied, turning to look at her.
She was rugged up, having come from the warm weather in Dubai, and because her spinal cord injury meant that effectively her thermostat was broken. He could just see her face, over her thick pink scarf. Her eyes were surrounded by dark rings after all the travel. Yet, she was here for him.
God, he loved her. He loved her so damn much. He wanted it all with her. A life built together. A future. He wanted to grab it with both hands.
"Okay," Delilah said, as she placed her gloved hand in his bare one. "Let's just stay here for a moment."
A/N: I don't own a thing.
Alas, I had great plans for this chapter, but it fell flat. I don't think I captured Tim's point of view very well.
Also, we're looking at 3-4 more chapters of this beast. I know I've been the author who cried end, a few times now, but this story has followed a different path from where this all started. It has also been one of the longest fics I've ever written. Seriously, this fic has reached a word count of over 80k! Yes, I know a good 2k of those words are author's notes.
The next few chapters will be joyful, and I promise I won't cheat you out of the Tony/Ziva wedding. We will also get to meet Victoria Palmer.
If anyone has anything that they really think needs to be included in the run up to the wedding, please let me know. I can't promise I will write them, but I will consider it. I would like to finish on a nice even 34 chapters.
Thank you for all the reviews, favourites, follows and general love. Thanks for all of the support.
Next chapter hopefully in a week, if not two weeks.