hey everyone,

I am so stupid sometimes, i posted a chapter with the notes from my beta reader still in it. Anyways, they are gone now.

thanks to my beta-reader, CALLEN37 for correcting my English and telling me about the notes :)

please review!

~Goldfishmind

Chapter 11

Back in the bullpen, with a picture of the woman who attacked Admiral James McGee, he saw Gibbs at his desk.

"You still here McGee? I thought you would go home and get some real rest." Gibbs said without looking up.

"Can't sleep anyway," McGee, sighed. "I just talked to my father and he made a sketch of a woman, he claimed, she attacked him."

"Uh huh, I see." Gibbs looked up from the file he was reading. "What is it with you and your dad?"

"Nothing, it's just, I haven't talked to him in a while."

"McGee,"

"Really! I haven't spoken to him in years."

"I'm sure that's true, but why haven't you spoken to him?"

"There's not really a reason, I lived in California, and when I was sixteen, I moved to study at Johns Hopkins."

"Sixteen?"

"Yeah, I graduated high school when I was sixteen."

"Hmm." Gibbs nodded.

McGee sat down at his desk and started typing.

"Tim, shouldn't you go home and sleep? Or try to sleep."

"Hmm..."

"Tim, go home."

Tim stood, grabbed his bag and walked out.

When the elevator doors opened, Tim went inside, and when they had closed, Gibbs knew for sure McGee was gone.

He walked slowly to the desk in front of him. He sat down and saw the computer was off. He started it and typed the password, and looked what McGee did on his computer, right before he left. He saw in the inbox, his emails, an email from himself and from Tim McGee to Tim McGee. There was a photo sent with it. Gibbs clicked on the photo and saw a woman around McGee's age. His date? He wanted to look for more, but his computer skills didn't reach that far, so he went back to his own desk and started reading the files again.

After two hours reading, he was sure nothing was in those files and grabbed his stuff and went home even he needed to sleep.

When he was home, he went to his basement to drink some bourbon before sleeping. He walked down the stairs and he saw a figure sitting at his working table. The boat was long gone.

"McGee?"

"Yeah, you really should use that lock on your door."

"If I did, you would be outside instead of inside here."

No answer

"Why are you here?"

"To talk, I don't really want to talk about it, but you just... get it out of me anyway."

Gibbs smiled and poured some bourbon in a glass.

—Flashback—

Night, 3 am, January 18th, 1994.

He smiled, as if he enjoyed beating up his son, as if he enjoyed the fear on the young child's face. Like he enjoyed how the boy yelled, how the girl yelled and no one would hear them…

—End Flashback—

"You're gonna tell me what happened?"

—Flashback—

Morning, 11 am

"James, are you gonna tell me what happened to Timothy?"

"He was just clumsy, again."

—End Flashback—

"Tim?" Gibbs was a little bit concerned about McGee; he looked like he wasn't really here, at least, not with his mind.

—Flashback—

Morning, 03.30 am

"Tim? Are you waking up?" he heard his little sister.

His eyes fluttered open, and closed again. He was tired and just wanted to sleep.

"Tim?" Sarah sounded concerned.

—End Flashback—

"McGee!" Gibbs grabbed McGee's shoulders and gently shook him. McGee seemed to wake up from his 'dream'.

"Huh?"

"Are you okay Tim?"

"Yes, it's just... the flashbacks. It's like I'm reliving it."

Flashbacks? What flashbacks? Gibbs thought worriedly

"What are you talking about?"

"I have flashbacks about what happened when I was twelve or so, when my dad was… drinking."

"What happened?"

Tim seemed to lose his focus on the conversation.

—Flashback—

Morning, 03.00 am

"Please! Dad! Stop! No, dad! Please!" he begged. His father was mentally not well. He raised his hand, clenched it into a fist and slammed into his stomach. He groaned from pain and yelled again, now not trying to stop his father. "Sarah! Go, run!"

"But..."

"Now!" Sarah ran away and Tim tried to fight back, but it was an easy fight for the admiral.

"Please! Dad! STOP!"

—End Flashback—

Tim mumbled something, but Gibbs couldn't understand what he was saying. He wondered if he was the cause of one of the flashbacks Tim was suffering from.

Tims' mumbling stopped and he looked a bit dazed at Gibbs.

"Flashback?" He asked

Tim nodded.

"What are they about?"

Tim didn't know where to start, but it was like Gibbs could read his mind.

"Start at the beginning. Do not try to give me the sugar-coated version, please, tell me everything… Please?"

Tim started telling him everything, from the first glass his father took, to the beatings and how his mom found out Tim wasn't always clumsy when she was away.

—Flashback—

Usually, he was out after the first blow, maybe the second or third, but now, he stayed conscious, feeling every blow his father gave him. How his father hit him every time. He was stronger now, he wasn't a clumsy, annoying kid anymore, he had to fight back, but his father was trained to fight, and he wasn't.

He heard voices. It was Sarah, and his mom. The front door opened and his mom was standing in the doorway, seeing how her sixteen year old son was laying on the ground and was about to pass out. Her husband was nowhere in sight. The last thing he heard was his mom crouched next to him and telling him it was going to be okay.

—End Flashback—

"I didn't go to the hospital, it was a wonder I didn't break any bones. My mom found out every time I was hurt, it wasn't because I was clumsy, but my father couldn't handle the alcohol. She poured every bottle in the backyard and emptied his wallet of any money and bankcards, so he couldn't buy any more bottles. Of course, he could borrow some money from his friends, but every time he came home, my mom searched him and his bag for any bottles of whiskey. When he was drunk while he came home, my mom sent him away, or locked him in the bathroom, so he couldn't hurt anyone except himself. He realised what the alcohol did to him and his family and tried to stop. And it worked. However, before I turned seventeen, I moved to study at Johns Hopkins, and wasn't home anymore. I called twice a month with my mom, and visited her when I had time and my dad wasn't home. I haven't seen him since." He explained.