A/N: Tim's a little off course and Gibbs is...well, let's just see how he handles it.

I expect you'll find that it's a bumpy ride ahead.


5/31/2010

Tim realized Monday morning, that nothing had changed at work; nothing that was, except his mood and outlook on life.

It appeared as though he had been at least partially reborn; his step was livelier, his eyes no longer looked as if he had completely given up on life, love or the pursuit of happiness. His pleasant greetings for his co-workers had them scratching their heads in confusion and getting questioning emails out to Abby in hopes that she had the answer to this magic transformation.

Had they stopped to look at him carefully, they would have seen the wrinkles in his mask that weren't quite big enough to form cracks but there just the same; seen the sorrow lurking in his eyes that spoke of all not being near as well with him as he was trying to put out. He couldn't allow himself to believe anything but the conclusion he'd arrived at on Sunday when he'd spent the entire day; right on up until he' d forced himself to go home and get some sleep, sitting in the park, thinking, hoping and dreaming. Only the darkness of the night had clued him in to just how long he had been sitting there lost in thought since he had foolishly allowed his phone to die while he sat there all day.

Slowly but surely, his inner voice had worked to convince him that he truly wasn't good enough for Gibbs and that even though the dreams and those few precious moments with the man on Friday night, were the epitome of what he really wanted, he wasn't good enough to deserve that happiness. He certainly was not capable of being a good partner in a relationship. In that conclusion, his belief was now firmly planted.

Gibbs remained silent behind his desk as he watched his youngest agent arrive at work, more cheerful than he'd been for the past few weeks. A closer look, however, revealed that Tim was not genuinely happy by any means. The boss wasn't sure why the others couldn't see that their teammate was wearing a mask, but it was clear as day to him. Maybe he just saw signs the others didn't know to look for. After all, they weren't used to him wearing one, like Tony'd done for years.

Or was that because he'd been so focused on what could possibly be running through the young man's mind, that he was creating issues where there were none to explain away Tim's lack of communication with him? Either way, the only weapon Gibbs had to arm himself against full out blowing up at Tim for not meeting Gibbs' private expectations was silence. Luckily, the man handled that weapon like the professional mute he was often viewed.

Truth be told, Gibbs was still completely confused and more than a little angry about having not been able to either find or get a hold of Tim on Sunday from the time the older man had gotten out of church until the end of the day. The young man had not been home and he had not once answered his phone. Gibbs had been forced to throw himself back into working with the Habitat crew to not only get his mind off the young man, but also squirrel away the day's hours, in hopes that Tim would show up that night. He knew they really needed to talk and he believed that Tim would have realized that too. With a mental flash of anger now, Gibbs frowned in Tim's direction before returning his attention to his work.

Tim's soft fronted smile of happiness was contagious with the others though, and soon the squad room had a happier atmosphere than it had had in weeks. No one seemed to notice the stilted silence between him and the boss or that Tim had not once looked the boss' way or spoken to him. They were too caught up in the brighter, happier mood that had buoyed their own spirits on a Monday, to notice. Even Abby, when she came through, noticed the difference in Tim and made a beeline for her friend.

"Tim! Spill it! You look happy. You haven't looked this happy in weeks and you weren't home yesterday or Saturday. Spill."

"Abby, I'm fine. I appreciate the concern, but I'm fine." The young man's tone was surprisingly quiet, as if trying to make up for Abby's excessive volume.

Gibbs wondered where the feud was from the other day but didn't mention it. If they were over it, he wasn't going to complain Truth be told, he couldn't even recall how he'd heard about it. Regardless, he was the last person to ever keep stuff like that going.

"I want details, Tim. Who is she? Where'd you meet her?" The Lab Rat insisted impatiently as she literally bounced on her toes.

"Need something to do, Abby?" Gibbs groused at her from where he sat behind his desk, clearly unhappy with his restless Forensic Scientist.

"Gibbs!" Abby's shrill protest could be heard throughout the entire floor, as the heads popping up over the partitions gave testament to.

"Now, Abby." The boss growled. He'd be damned if his squad room was gonna be turned into some sort of soap opera stage or worse, the scene of the great interrogation. This was, after all, a work place.

With a grouchy protest, Abby stomped off toward the back elevator, her boots clomping noisily across the floor as she went. Gibbs glanced across the room at his youngest agent, only to find him already busy with work, his attention completely focused on his computer screen. Just the way it should be.

The onset of a workday with no new case soon sent the team where they hated to go; down the path of the cold case files. Re-reading and rechecking details and facts, figures and stories, all drudgework that none of them cared for yet all of them had to do. As the afternoon dragged on, Tim's bouncy spirit seemed to flag along with the lackluster afternoon.

Escaping with trepidation down to Abby's lab, Tim found the Lab Rat equally in a great mood, but this mood brought out the 'I love McGee like I love puppies" mode within the energizer bunny of NCIS and that usually sparked a twinge of resentment in Tim. Today, he wasn't willing to risk it, fearing the results of his frustrating weekend would be far worse than any twinge. He also had no interest in being grilled further by her regarding his love life, so he kept his visit short and work related, allowing for no other conversation between them, choosing to go back to work instead, even if there wasn't anything to do other than cold case reviews and steadfastly refuse to look the boss' way, no matter how often he could feel the man's glare from across the room.

By two, the team, as a whole, was hoping for any kind of case, although none of them wished murder or death on anyone; they simply needed something to do. As luck would have it, Gibbs' phone rang shortly thereafter, signifying the end of drudgework for at least, this workday.

"Gear up, got a dead sailor in the park." Gibbs barked at them as he headed for the elevator, Tony and Ziva directly on his tail. Tim, on the other hand, seemed to have become distracted and hadn't moved from his chair. "Today, McGee!" Gibbs barked from across the squad room, causing Tim to jump, snatch up his gear and hightail it to the elevator; only to find himself staring at the closed door; having been left behind.

Caught up in his angered thoughts regarding Tim's aired of dismissal towards him, Gibbs failed to notice they'd left the young man behind as the elevator descended. When he opened his eyes and took in the fact that the young man was in deed absent from their midst's, the boss dealt a healthy head slap to his Senior Field Agent, currently sporting a huge grin on his face. He followed that up with a burning glare to both of his agents, both of whom could have prevented what would amount to the huge slap in the face to their teammate.

Furious with the lot of them, Tim had hit the steps as fast as he could, twisting his ankle painfully on the landing. Ignoring the pain, he'd run as fast as he could towards the agency vehicle lot, not wanting this situation to spiral out of control. Already, Tony would have more than enough ammo to keep lording over his head or at the very least, embarrassing him with for weeks to come. DiNozzo's appetite for fresh material could be compared to camel's appetite for water; both lasting for weeks on the same feeding.

Reaching the parking lot, Tim was relieved to see that the team was already pulling up in front of him in the car. With a deliberate screech of tires, Tony slammed the brakes and waited for him to get in. As his eyebrows marched up to his hairline, in silent question, Gibbs' eyes raked Tim over when the young man finally reached the car and climbed in, not missing the pain on his face or the very definite way he was babying his now injured foot.

Not wanting to put Tim on the spot about any of this, Gibbs returned his attention to looking out the window, leaving the atmosphere in the car up for grabs. He knew Tony would take the fresh ammunition Tim had just handed him, with some unintentional help from him; and run with it. The boss also knew that even though Tony was driving, a privilege handed to him because Gibbs was too distracted to drive, the Senior Field Agent would be making the car ride one of complete misery for Tim; and Gibbs with his incessant jibes and jokes and even a movie reference or two. This time however, the older man was more than attentive enough to put a stop to anything over the line if it came up, although he did keep his silence and let Tony have plenty of room to do his usual thing, willing to suffer through Tony running wild because he needed to distraction to cover his inconspicuous yet frequent checks on Tim in the mirrored visor in front of him.

Twenty agonizing minutes later, they reached their destination miraculously without having killed Tony. Spilling out from the car at the scene of the case they'd been handed, Tim bit back a cry of pain as he put too much weight on his now swelling ankle. Already pissed and now feeling like that inner voice that had slowly and insidiously brainwashing him that he wasn't good enough – was right, Tim was hard pressed to keep the tears of physical pain at bay. Barely managing to fight them back; yet determined to keep them there, Tim limped over to the rest of the team, wordlessly slipping on a rubber glove and extracting the portable fingerprint scanner from his equipment and using it on their victim's finger.

"Alan Baker. AWOL, Three months ago. Due to go before the Military Court for Court Martial in 2 days." Tim announced to the group at large, knowing Gibbs was standing close by waiting for the information so the investigative work could begin.

"Okay. Tony, shoot and sketch. Ziva, witness statements. Ducky, take McGee back with you and Palmer. Check out his ankle. McGee, you get cleared, get started on our victim's paper trail and that of everyone he knew and had contact with for the past six months." Gibbs ordered as he walked away.

Approaching the local LEO's who were milling around with nothing better to do, Gibbs couldn't help but worry that Tim had broken his ankle. More than that, the team leader was concerned about the unusual anger emanating from his youngest agent. Shaking his mental head, Gibbs refocused on the job at hand.

***NCIS***

An hour later found Tim back at his desk, up to his eyeballs in searches, his foot having been iced and wrapped, was now propped somewhat uncomfortably up on a file room stool. Ducky had issued the ultimatum that Tim being allowed to sit at his desk and work meant keeping all pressure off the ankle for at least the remainder of the workday. The M.E. had also strongly urged him to consider going home with him at the end of the day so he could avoid any and all attempts to put weight on the ankle. Reminding Tim that sometimes his apartment elevator went out without notice and climbing stairs would only make the situation worse; possibly even bench him from field work, Ducky soon had Tim convinced it was the right decision to make.

With a small smile, Tim mentally admitted to himself that he was willing to accept his foot being propped up as the price of still being able to get work done, if it meant he stood a chance of getting done what the boss man expected of him before the man got back. That drive to exceed expectations was still there, where it had been ever since the day he'd first realized he'd crossed some personal boundary by carrying feelings for his boss. If anything, that need to exceed expectations, was at an almost desperate level now, as if it would somehow atone for distancing himself from Gibbs on that personal level.

The remainder of the day passed on into early evening as the rest of the team returned to the squad room and together they began to piece together the evidence and their findings and working the case to their best ability. Gibbs finally called a halt to their investigation as the hour approached eight that night. Snapping up his coffee cup, the boss made a beeline for the coffee shop on the corner while he waited for his squad room to empty out and get quiet enough to get some work done.

Taking the extra effort to stay away from Tim, to keep from snapping off on him about it all, was really taking a toll on him. He was jumpy and unsettled and his thirst for coffee was unquenchable today, especially now when he knew the squad room would be full of peace and quiet when he got back. It was his favorite cup of coffee of the day.

***NCIS***

Tim hobbled to his feet, aided by the crutches Ducky had loaned him. Slinging his backpack over one shoulder, the young man slowly made his way down to the M.E.'s desk, plopping down most ungracefully into the chair beside the older man's desk as he rested his head back against the wall, allowing his eyes to close. He had time to kill as he waited for the M.E. to get done for the day.

"Timothy." A concerned voice sounded in his ear as a gentle hand on his shoulder shook him from a slumber he hadn't even realized he'd fallen into.

Opening his eyes, he blearily looked around, locating the source of both the voice and the hand. "Hey, Ducky. I'm sorry, didn't mean to fall asleep."

"That's quite all right, young man. I understand Jethro released you well over an hour ago. I do apologise, I was delayed in a teleconference call with the Medical Examiner's Office in Baltimore. I trust you are ready to leave and get a good night's sleep?"

"Yeah, that would be great." Tim admitted with a small tired smile that actually reached his eyes.

"That is a sight to see, dear boy, a sight that has been missing for some time now." Ducky remarked cheerfully.

Tim looked at him quizzically, clearly confused about what Ducky was referring to.

"That smile, my friend. It has been far too long since we've seen it around these parts."

Tim couldn't help but smile again. "Thanks, Ducky."

"How've you managed the crutches today, Timothy? Are they burdensome or have you managed to get used to them?"

"They're just like riding a bike, Ducky. Kinda comes back to you with a little practice."

"Oh, that's right. Your car accident back in your younger years."

"Right. Listen, I know it's late, so do you want to go through a drive through somewhere and just get take out to take home for dinner? My treat." Tim offered as they slowly made their way to Ducky's Morgan.

"Your offer is most kind, dear boy, however, I already have dinner simmering in the Crockpot at home. " Ducky replied calmly as he unlocked his car and helped Tim get in. Stowing the crutches carefully in front of Tim's side by the door, the M.E carefully shut the door before going round and getting in the driver's seat.

By the time Ducky was settled in his seat and had turned the car on, Tim was chuckling to himself.

"Care to share the joke, Timothy?" Ducky asked.

"I just realized I'm just now figuring you out, Ducky. You don't ever do take-out!"

Ducky smiled. "Quite right, my boy. Quite right!"

*******NCIS******

An hour later found both of the M.E. and the young agent, settling down in Ducky's office to end the day with a quiet talk, at the M.E.'s bequest. In search for a serious update on how Tim was doing, Ducky started the conversation with trepidation.

"Timothy, if you don't mind my asking, what seems to be troubling you? Is it your dreams? Are they still bothering you?"

"No. They're definitely not 'bothering' me. In fact, they're keeping me going, most days." Tim admitted as he kept his eyes glued to his late night relaxing tea the M.E. had foisted on him.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about, Ducky." Tim tried to deny.

"Are we back to this again, Timothy? If you do not wish to discuss it, I am perfectly capable of accepting that truth, rather than this lie." Ducky admonished him sternly.

Tim breathed out a sigh of frustration. "I'm sorry, Ducky."

"Yes, well, I don't doubt that for a moment, dear boy. However…"

"I need to just forget about it; move on." Tim interrupted in a rare moment of unintentional rudeness inter-twined with his forlorn expression and tone.

"I will admit, I am quite confused by this from you, Timothy. You seemed quite reluctant to let it go last week."

"Ducky, I…" Tim floundered.

"You need to talk it out, let someone help you work through what it is that has caused you to feel this way about something that was obviously quite important to you and was quite meaningful for you just days ago."

Tim swallowed hard. "They were dreams, Ducky. That's all."

"You and both know they were much more than that. I also know that Jethro has spoken to you and the two of you have had time to talk about this. "

"Oh, God! He told you?" Tim felt humiliated.

"No, Timothy, he did not. I simply asked if he'd been able to talk to you about what was bothering you. His answer to which, was yes. "

"Oh." Tim replied sheepishly. "Well, since you're obviously okay with all this…"

"Absolutely, dear fellow. I care not who you are in a relationship with so long as you both are happy. Now, let this old owl help where he can, hmm?"

"Thank you, Ducky. Well, it was…"

***NCIS***

The next three work weeks flew by for Tim, what with working the handful of fresh cases that came their way and all of his spare time spent back in front of the laptop, reading and researching when he wasn't sleeping. After talking with Ducky, he'd come to the conclusion that even if he was wrong in his belief of what would work and what wouldn't where a relationship with Gibbs was concerned; he was now equally determined to move forward and find something to adventure into along the path he'd discovered of being a sub.

While he couldn't argue Ducky's point that it wasn't fair to assume what Gibbs would want or what he would be thinking, Tim also couldn't let go of the need to be something to someone and soon. He was extremely stressed out from avoiding Gibbs all this time. Ever since that first Monday when he'd refused to look at the man all day, Tim had noticed more glares coming from him even if the man had only attempted once to get them a moment alone over a week ago after almost a week of silence between them.

That moment had been the worst; tucked up in the elevator with the man he wanted almost more than life itself; knowing he couldn't have him long enough to make him happy or make it work forever, so he shouldn't take him up on his offer in the first place, was so brutally hard on him, Tim was left near tears when the man had finally given up trying to get Tim to talk to him and left him in the elevator.

That conversation still resounding clearly in his head.

"McGee, with me." The boss instructed as he headed to the elevator.

Nervous and beyond jittery, Tim snuck a quick glance at him in hopes of being able to read what was on his mind, or at least the direction it was headed in. The moment the elevator had stopped, Tim's heart had dropped down to his knees.

"McGee."

"Boss?"

"What's going on with you?"

"I don't know what you mean."

"You're lookin' more tired and dragged out today than you did last week."

"Guess I've just been having trouble sleeping. I'm fine, Boss." Tim tried to explain.

Gibbs let go a breath in an aggravated sigh. "You've been avoiding me, Tim. Why?"

Tim looked everywhere but at his boss, too upset at being cornered like this because it meant he might very well wind up telling him exactly what was going on and he would give his life up before hurting Gibbs that way.

The Team Leader tried placing a calming hand on Tim's shoulder but Tim instantly stiffened under it, too scared to give in, to allow himself even a moment of enjoyment or comfort from it.

"Okay then." Gibbs turned the elevator back on and silently waited as the boxcar took them back to their floor, taking a step off the elevator when suddenly, he stopped and turned back to his agent.

"McGee."

"Boss?" Tim looked back at him, his eyes cloaked in unease.

Gibbs stepped back up to him close enough no one else would hear them. "You said you trusted me, Tim. "

Tim didn't know what brought him closer to tears; the soft, sympathetic tone Gibbs had just spoken in, the words that spoke of the older man's hurt at Tim's distance or the long searching look the man was giving him now.

After a long silent minute, Gibbs turned and headed back to his desk without another word.

That conversation had left Tim seriously rattled, heartbroken, desperately blinking back tears of guilt. Knowing the boss felt like Tim had lied to him was devastating. It had been all he could do to force himself to get back to work after that conversation. He'd been so downtrodden; he hadn't even noticed the worried looks from Tony and Ziva. Desperately he repeated his mantra over and over. Better than hurting him worse later when things fall apart because I'm not good enough to keep him happy.

Even convinced that he was right, as he was, he now felt like he seriously not only didn't deserve Gibbs; but had most likely already chased him away for good. Relentlessly, the dreams continued plaguing him, driving home the fact that his enthusiasm for keeping his own company through the many moments of sexual tension his thoughts and memories and worst of all, vivid dreams, had long since worn out its' welcome.

Two weeks and two day of not even looking Gibbs' way for fear of seeing hurt in the man's eyes when no one else was looking, has Tim too keyed up to sleep and too confused to think straight, Tim spent a restless hour pacing his living room with no trace of peace or even slumber in sight. Every time he closed his eyes, things said and done in the last month along with the dreams he'd been having came back to the screen behind his eyes in vivid stereo replay.

By the time 11 PM. had rolled around, he gave up and got ready to go out. He'd been staring at the website for this place for a week now. He had the address memorized and was more than ready to get his feet wet. He was antsy and his thoughts were running wild. Tim was wrung out, strung tight enough to snap and in need of something to change in his life quick.

Tonight was the night things were gonna change. It never even dawned on him that he was no longer thinking straight; having reached the desperate stage of doing anything rather than nothing. Picking up his keys and his wallet, he headed out the door, not even noticing his phone still sitting on the kitchen counter or remembering his promise to Gibbs.