Tony hitches a ride to the nearest hospital with an FBI agent that looks like he should've retired last century. When the FBI agent drops Tony at the Emergency Department entrance, he stays parked at the curb long enough to ensure Tony makes it inside. He must have talked to Gibbs or Fornell or anyone who knows how much Tony loves hospitals. Once Tony heads through the double-doors, the smell of antiseptic and vomit smacks him in the face. The lights are blindingly bright, the waiting room so packed that people are standing beside the doorway. For a moment, Tony wonders whether he wandered into an open casting call for a zombie movie.

Straightening his shoulders, Tony heads over to the triage desk where a heavyset woman helps a gnarled, elderly woman with paperwork. There is already another patient, a young man with a ice pack against his hand. When the heavyset woman catches Tony staring, she shoots him a glare that could freeze hell. With all her practice, she might be close to Gibbs' glare.

"I came," Tony says.

Tilting her head, she narrows his eyes. "What do you want? A balloon? Back of the line."

Tony glances over his shoulder, not surprised to find more people filed into the already crowded waiting area. Then, he looks ahead, through a second set of double doors, into the heart of the Emergency Department. In there, men and woman in scrubs and white coats mill around.

He looks back at the heavyset woman who is already out of her seat.

"Don't you dare," she mutters.

Tony bolts through those doors into the Emergency Department. Behind him, there's a commotion and the woman screams, "Security!" As the doors slam closed behind him, he hears the waiting room dissolve into chaos about the man who jumped the line.

He speedwalks past empty gurneys and patient rooms. Up ahead, there is what appears to be a nurses' station where people in blue scrubs crowd around a tall man in a white coat. The closer Tony goes, the younger the man appears. He looks like he might still be in high school. As soon as he notices Tony drawing closer, the young man steps in front of the others.

"Dr. Gamble," one of them warns.

But he holds his hand up, intent to face whatever threat Tony might be.

Tony points at him, saying hurriedly: "Are you a doctor?"

Dr. Gamble rears back, blinking. The confusion slowly settling on his features shows Tony just how young he really is.

He starts: "You shouldn't be – "

"Are you a doctor?" Tony interrupts.

Dr. Gamble makes a face before stepping forward. "Yes, I am. But sir, you shouldn't – "

"Thanks," Tony nods. "I was just leaving."

Behind him, Tony hears the pound of footsteps from security. He turns around, raising his hands chest high as he goes. The security guards eye him as though he might just do something crazy.

"I'm a federal agent," Tony says. "And I'm leaving. Right now."

And with that, Tony stalks straight out of the Emergency Department. The security guards follow him until he is outside. He stands in the cold, offering a wave as they haunt the entrance doors. Tony still can't remember quite why he hates hospitals so much. Maybe it's the smell or the fact that people are never particularly friendly.

But when Gibbs asks him if he went, he'll say yes, and it won't be a lie.

He did everything Gibbs told him.

He even saw a doctor.

-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-

Down in Cybercrimes, Tim McGee toils away at his desk. This case should be easy. It should have been a slam dunk that he finished before lunch. He is attempting to follow the trail of—yet another—DDOS attack against the NCIS website. The hacker left behind so much evidence that Tim should already have the case wrapped up. The hacker is probably nothing more than an Ivy League freshman with too much ego and too much time on their hands.

Not like I ever tried to hack a government website when I was in college.

As Tim works, he tries to get his head back in the game. The night at Gibbs' house didn't help at all. The floating around Gibbs' house like a lost ghost with Tony and Gibbs studying him carefully. The quiet between them that lingered like a chasm he couldn't fill. The long talk with Fornell that went into the wee hours of the morning. The not saying what he wished he could have to his team. Gibbs gave him way too much space and by the time Fornell made coffee, Gibbs and Tim were moving past each other like two objects lost in space. Tony was better. At least Tony smiled and cracked a movie quote at him. Still, it was more awkward than Tim could've imagined. Gibbs and Tony kept to the upstairs while Tim bunked in the basement under Fornell's watch. Tim, he didn't sleep at all. And today hasn't been much better. Fornell tried to send two wizened agent into NCIS with him, but Tim reasoned if he couldn't be safe in a federal building, NCIS wasn't worth much. Not to mention, he didn't want to draw attention to himself. And nothing draws attention like a security detail.

Blinking owlishly at the computer screen, Tim forces his mind into his work. With the lack of sleep and bad coffee, the lines of code might as well be gibberish.

He closes his eyes. Cracks his neck. Scratches at his hairline.

He narrows his eyes at the computer monitor as he runs through the lines and lines of code to determine the originating address. He keeps slipping up, making the rookie mistakes over and over again. He follows one of the lines of code, but he discovers it was rerouted through a dummy IP address.

How did I screw that up? That was a stupid mistake.

Tim digs back into it. Hops, skips, and jumps across cyberspace with a grace he never found in real life. It doesn't take long—a few hours, maybe, they always fly by when he works—until he tracks the originating IP address to a dorm room. Just like he thought, some comp sci major probably decided they could hack into the NCIS website to test their abilities. G-d knows he and his friends used to do it when they were bored between classes at MIT.

When he double-checks the name of the university, he suddenly feels more than a little forsaken in his abilities. Waverly University isn't even some Ivy League wannabe school. And yet, somehow this hacker managed to almost elude him. Given the amount of work, he'd have expected MIT or Harvard. Thankfully, he didn't get bested by someone from CalTech.

Tim sends a note to the case agent with his evidence. They'll likely punt the arrest to Barrows and his team. Maybe Tim will even be called up for an interview.

I wonder how Tony is doing with Barrows.

His e-mail inbox suddenly flashes with an incoming message. It was way too fast for the case agent who often takes whole days to reply. The subject is in all capital letters, the sender is Vance's secretary, Marta. Tim's heart sinks as he opens the e-mail because it's a summons to the director's office. He is to report immediately.

Guess I'm about to get fired.

Tim stays at his desk for a long time, motionless and reflective and miserable. He should get up to the director's office and just get the whole thing over with. It could be like ripping off a bandaid. Over and done before the fire from the removal really sets in.

He has the phone numbers of a few headhunters at his place that could get him a tech job before the end of the week, but it won't be the same. If he wanted that, he would've done it years ago. If he had chosen the easy route, he would have a cushy tech job that pays quadruple with way better hours. But Tim never wanted the easy route.

At least it was good while it lasted.

With a long sigh, he shuts down his station because he won't be coming back here after Vance fires him. He grabs the only things he owns here, an empty pen cup and his left-handed roller ball mouse and that picture of a skull that Abby gave him when they first met.

Tim takes a deep breath, one that settles deep down into his bones.

A familiar smell sneaks past like a lingering ghost. Sawdust and coffee.

Gibbs always did smell like a high school wood shop and a Starbucks.

Swallowing hard, Tim inhales again. If it's the last time he'll smell it, he wants to hold onto the memory for a little longer. He turns around. Gibbs holds a cup of coffee in one hand while his expression is as neutral as possible. Not angry, not joyful and nothing in between. Just devoid of every emotion that he should be feeling. His face is like an uncarved stone.

It was just like this at Gibbs' house yesterday. Two people coexisting in a space, but where the chasm between them is so deep and wide, they'll never cross it. Maybe instead, they've already tumbled into the depths and drowned. Tim's heart twists in his throat.

He starts, "Boss…"

That pulls at the corner of Gibbs' mouth. "Tim."

There is so much emotion in his name that Tim almost believes Gibbs has given a huge, heartfelt speech. Tim rubs at the back of his neck, looks away. He doesn't know what to say. There aren't any words for what happened, for what went unsaid, for what he did. He's on the backfoot, struggling for some kind of hold. Struggling to stay afloat.

"Are you here to fire me?" he squeaks. "Because the director is about to and I just can't – "

"Tim," Gibbs says.

Tim shuts up. Stares, wide-eyed, at Gibbs.

"Vance is going to suspend you." That word makes Tim flinch. "Four weeks, no pay."

Tim isn't sure if he is supposed to feel ecstatic or heartbroken. A suspension is better than what he expected, but he is about to be suspended. It's enough to derail the upward trajectory of his career and kill the prospect of ever having his own team. He should be excited that he still has a future to worry about. This much he knows, but he can't muster the enthusiasm.

"Why didn't you come to me?" Gibbs asks.

Tim sticks his tongue between his teeth. "It was easier to deal with it on my own. I thought I could handle it. I didn't know how you would react." He releases a broken sigh. "Would you have kicked Ziva off the team if I told you that she was threatening me?"

The silence stretches for what feels like a long time. Neither of them moves. Tim scarcely breathes in case it could cause Gibbs to leave.

In the end, Gibbs admits: "I don't know."

And there it is for Tim. Exactly why he didn't go to Gibbs in the first place because he didn't know how the older man would react.

Tim clips a nod. "That's what I figured. That's why I didn't say anything."

For some fleeting moment, a torrent of emotion passes over Gibbs' face. It's a mixture of regret and sadness and guilt as if he broke some rule that Tim doesn't know exists. He looks at Tim as if seeing him for the very first time.

"You're back on the team," Gibbs says. "After your suspension."

Tim's face pulls into a brittle smile as though his heart shatters. And maybe, in a way, it is.

And just like that, Tim has everything back that he was so worried that he'd lost. His job, his badge, his weapon, his team. He'll be back to being a full-fledged field agent in no time, not just someone who lurks around the sub-basement and hunts hackers.

But Gibbs and Tony don't trust me.

Tim is watching his life through another person's eyes. What is about to happen isn't happening to him, but someone else.

"I'm staying in Cybercrimes," he announces.

Gibbs doesn't even act surprised. If anything, he might look wounded. As if anything could pierce Gibbs' impenetrable armor.

All he does is nod and offer Tim a small smile.

"You change your mind." Even when Gibbs is giving Tim an offer, it sounds like an order.

"You'll be the first to know."

And with that, Gibbs turns to leave. Tim remains, stock still, as he watches Gibbs retreat to the elevators. Tim tries to swallow the thick lump in his throat, but it won't budge. Even after everything, he still doesn't feel ready to be leaving it all behind. It feels like the end of something truly great.

As if everything Tim worked for is gone up in smoke.

-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-

When Gibbs first says that Tim isn't coming back, Tony laughs. Head thrown back and sides aching from the laughter. It was supposed to be a—completely inappropriate and ill-timed—joke, right? Gibbs never mastered the art of comedic timing. Instead, preferring to play straight man to…well, everything. Of course, now would be about the time for Gibbs to discover his funny bone.

Grinning, Tony waits for Gibbs to get to the punchline.

But Gibbs doesn't.

Tony sobers quickly, holding his hand to his face. He still thinks Gibbs is playing the long game, playing some kind of truly epic prank on him. There's no way that Tim, his junior agent of six years, decided not to return to field duty. It has to be a joke. There is no way Gibbs is serious.

Then again, Gibbs is always serious, but this is a different kind. The kind that says he would never joke about anything, let alone something so dire.

Tony never even had the chance to tell Gibbs that he went to the hospital, walked right through the doors and saw a doctor.

Tony squares his shoulders. "I'll get him back."

Gibbs shoots him a look. "McGee says he's done, Tony."

"No…no, he's not." Tony shakes his head, but Gibbs is nodding. "Ziva doesn't get to make him quit field duty. She doesn't get to break up my team. Our team." He works his hands into fists, shoulders heaving. "She. Doesn't. Get. To. Win."

Tony takes to pacing around the Bullpen.

Gibbs tilts his head. "You got a plan?"

"I'll figure it out," Tony says. "I bet I can convince him to be back by January. March, at the latest."

When Gibbs purses his lips, Tony stops in his track.

"Boss?" he asks.

"You've got until the first week in December."

Tony rears back on his heels, eyes wide. "But McGee is suspended for four weeks. That only gives me three weeks after he gets back. And Thanksgiving is in there!"

"Vance wants back to work by then." Gibbs merely shrugs. "So, work fast."

Clipping a nod, Tony returns to his pacing. No matter what happens, he isn't about to let Ziva destroy everything they've worked for. Tony won't let Tim kill his own career like this. Not on his watch anyway. Whatever happened between their team, they'll fix it.

They have to.

Ziva doesn't deserve to win. She doesn't get to destroy Tim's career, Gibbs' team, and Tony's life. No matter how hard he has to work, Tony won't let Ziva win.

McGee'll be back before we know it.