A/N - Again, I'm sorry for the break. Uni and life haven't been kind and I had difficulty writing this chapter. Gibbs isn't the easiest character to write, for me! I'm also in the process of going through previous chapters and updating them to fix some little grammatical things that were bugging me.

Thanks for sticking with me, though. I love writing this story, so it will get finished!
Disclaimer - I do not own anything NCIS.

Gibbs didn't know how long he'd sat in a kind of shock, mind working furiously to process Timothy's words, but it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. It was a lot of information to get in a short amount of time; and none of it was even remotely close to what he had been expecting, but it wasn't an issue that troubled him as much as it was clearly troubling Timothy.

The young man himself - though the darkness in his eyes right now made the word 'young' sound horribly inaccurate - hadn't moved since finishing his account, remaining locked into position in front of Kinoan's desk, staring sightlessly at the impenetrable blackness outside. He didn't seem able to move: every muscle tensed against a recrimination he was sure was coming.

What Gibbs thought of him mattered a great deal to Timothy.

"McGee." Gibbs attempt to catch the man's attention didn't get a response. Though he had spoken quietly, the room was absolutely silent - there was no way Timothy hadn't heard.

"McGee." Gibbs repeated a little more forcefully, getting to his feet and approaching the man.

For a few moments he watched as Timothy remained frozen in place, almost as if he expected that the slightest move would send Gibbs running from the room in disgust.

Gibbs had no intention of leaving. He weighed the decision up in his mind - how to shake Timothy out of his trance. It could go either way, now, and Gibbs was no longer as sure of himself as he had been on Earth. He was even less sure of Timothy.

Though he would never admit it out loud, he had been shaken by the brief glimpses he'd seen of General McGee. Their short confrontation a few months ago and the conversation with the Void had been enough to show Gibbs that General McGee and Timothy were two very different people.

Timothy was a brilliant man, intelligent and strong, but unsure - restrained. From the first case Timothy worked with them, Gibbs had seen something special in him. He hadn't been able to articulate what it was, even to himself, but Gibbs was never one to doubt his instincts and had seen them proved right on more than one occasion back on Earth. But even in his best moments Timothy held himself in check, never allowing the hidden side of him to emerge.

There was a fire, a darkness, in General McGee that anyone who'd only known Timothy would never have thought possible. He radiated pure power, a carefully disciplined rage that burnt through eyes and voice, enough to make the bravest of beings turn and flee. He carried with him an undercurrent of violent energy ready to break free at the slightest hint of need; a warrior barely restrained. In those moments, it was easy to see how this man could command an army billions strong and lead them to victory.

It was easy to see how this man could unleash a terrible weapon and watch a planet burn.

But the man in front of Gibbs right now was not General McGee. It was Timothy, afraid and full of guilt, unable to access the raw power inside him for fear of what he might do.

This was not the Vengeful God, the hero and legend of a thousand worlds. This was a young man who had lived far too long, seen far too much and had been forced into action that even ten years later ate away at the very heart of him.

Gibbs didn't yet know how to handle General McGee. But he knew how to handle Timothy.

"McGee!" This was said in the firm, no-nonsense tone Gibbs hadn't used on Timothy in four months - and was accompanied by a sharp slap across the back of the man's head.

The reaction was immediate. Timothy jumped, swung around with a look of outrage on his face and demanded;

"What the hell?"

"You weren't paying attention."

"I'm not one of your agents anymore, Gibbs," Timothy said indignantly. "I'm a General. I'm your superior."
The words were harsh and authoritative, but this was not echoed in his tone. Timothy sounded more disgruntled than angry, as if he was protesting because that's what it felt like he should do.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Maybe, but I'm also your friend. And you needed to snap out of it."

"Snap out of it?" Timothy said in disbelief. "Were you listening to me?" He turned back to the fire and slumped down in the overstuffed green armchair, staring dejectedly into the dancing flames.

Gibbs sat down opposite him and waited in silence for Timothy to look up. It took several long moments but eventually the general did so, meeting Gibbs' eyes somewhat hesitantly. In that silence, he had clawed back the mask he'd let fall while telling his story, hiding behind it once again as if it could protect him from the disgust he firmly believed was coming.

"You did a terrible thing." Gibbs said, slowly and clearly. "For a great reason. That you did this yourself and still feel guilty about it, still know that it was a terrible thing to do, tells me that you are not a bad person. At all. Timothy, you did the only thing you could do. No matter how much you don't want to hear this right now, you are a hero. To the soldiers, to me, to everyone. Sometimes terrible things have to be done, for the greatest of reasons. How we live with our actions afterwards, that's the measure of our worth."

Timothy's face remained completely blank as he watched Gibbs talk, and continued to stare long after he finished. Gibbs said nothing, knowing that Timothy's mind was working hard to process this unexpected turn of events. It had been clear to the agent that Timothy expected him to be horrified, and to hate him.

After several tense minutes, Timothy slumped forward and buried his head in his hands.

"You know, I think that's the most I've ever heard you say at once," he said with a short laugh. It was quiet, barely more than a chuckle, but it was genuine.

"Don't get used to it."

Timothy laughed again. "I know I had to do it," he said, quietly, still watching the flames as though all answers danced within. "There wasn't another choice. And the Hotton ships had destroyed many, many planets. But I'll never forgive myself for it. And this war, this war against the Void ... I don't know if I can make another call like that. I may have to, but ... I don't know if I have the strength."

Gibbs sat, once again, in the armchair to the right of the fireplace. This time, however, it was Kinoan sitting opposite him. It had taken the two of them a considerable amount of time to persuade Timothy to go to bed instead of spending yet another night prowling the corridors, plotting and scheming with Harriet, but finally they had managed it.

Now agent and alien sat in companionable calm in Kinoan's comfortable office, lit only by the blazing fire, sipping coffee and talking.

Over the last four months, Kinoan and Gibbs had gotten to know each other quite well. Kinoan had begun to show the agent how the Orbiter operated, introducing him to the most important people onboard and generally teaching him everything he needed to know about the inner workings of the station. For the past few weeks, the alien had even encouraged Gibbs to get personally involved in the frequent meetings and discussions, sending Gibbs to deal with things Kinoan himself couldn't attend to and integrating the agent into the respected chain of command.

Respect for both Kinoan and Timothy ran so high that nobody questioned why a man who had only been onboard for four months was suddenly issuing orders and attending important meetings. He was Timothy's trusted friend, endorsed by Kinoan, and that was enough for almost everybody. Only Harriet, unsurprisingly, had trouble with the agent. The enmity between the two continued to fester, with Harriet still refusing to address Gibbs as anything other than "the civilian".

Gibbs wasn't sure why Kinoan had taken such an interest in him, but he wasn't complaining. Though he would have preferred to ship off to basic training alongside Tony and Ziva, at least he had purpose now. He played a role - an important role, by all appearances, for he was practically working as Kinoan's deputy by now.

"You handled him well." Kinoan noted, after Gibbs finished recounting his conversation with Timothy. "That's not an easy thing to do. Even when he was young, it was hard to get to know him properly."

"He's still young." Gibbs noted.

Kinoan laughed. "He's really not, you know."

After a puzzled moment, Gibbs remembered. It was so easy to forget that Timothy had, in laymen's terms, travelled in time. That he had spend upwards of sixty years trapped in various never-ending wars, unaging and cut off from the time he really belonged to.

"It took me years to really get to know him." Kinoan continued. "It's unfortunate, but you don't have that kind of time. Hard conversations such as this are necessary if he's to trust you like he needs to."

Gibbs frowned. It wasn't the first time that Kinoan had made a comment like this, which seemed to imply he knew somethings Gibbs didn't.

"What do you mean, I don't have that kind of time?"

Kinoan glanced over at him. "War is here, Jethro. And you are working against ten years of false experience. The Timothy you knew no longer exists. This fight will be harder on him than any of the many he has already fought. His experiences against Hotton burnt him as much as they strengthened him, and now he doubts his abilities, doubts his instincts. Doubts he can ill afford in the coming days."

"You met him first in war, didn't you?" Gibbs asked, recalling some of what Timothy had told him months ago, the brief explanation of how he came to lead an army in space.

"I did, but then he really was still young." Kinoan smiled softly; the look of someone recalling fond memories. "Still fresh and eager, the anger inside him aimed at our enemies instead of at himself. I met a young man who had the potential to be great and I helped shape him, helped him become the General we all needed him to be. Now he tears himself apart, his humanity raging against what Stars has made him, and he needs something more than an old fool who didn't see the damage until it was too late."

There was a heaviness to Kinoan's voice, his three eyes clouded with sadness and guilt. The affection the alien had for Timothy had been obvious to Gibbs from their first meeting, and over the course of their recent conversations he had been given a rare glimpse into the diplomat's mind. Kinoan saw Timothy simultaneously as son and confidant, best friend and equal.

"He trusts you more than anyone," Gibbs pointed out.

Kinoan sighed. "Yes, he does. It's not Timothy's trust in me that I fear for, it is my own. In all my years of service, I have never had a friend as close as Timothy, yet when he was at his lowest point I missed it. I did not see how he hurt. I allowed him to leave."

He paused now and took a deep, slow breath. Gibbs waited in the silence, knowing there was more the alien still had to say. This was it, Gibbs realised; the answer to his unasked questions. Why was Kinoan so intent on setting him up in a position of power?

"I am his before, Agent Gibbs." He said eventually, yellow eyes moving from the flickering firelight to meet Gibbs' own. "You are his after. He trusts you. Perhaps not as much as he needs to, not just yet, but you will get there. You must. One day he will need you as much as, if not more than, he needs me. And you must be prepared, for that could mean the difference between victory and the end of everything."