Chapter Three
Abby
“You look like a kicked puppy, McGee.”
Abby points this out to him as they sit in her kitchen. He holds a mug of hot chocolate in his hands; he looked like he needed it.
“I’m not here to talk about me,” Tim says.
“We’ve talked about me already,” Abby says. “We’ve talked a whole lot about me. In fact, people seem to have been talking about me without me present. So I think that’s enough me-talk. Let’s do you-talk. Did something happen?”
Tim sighs, apparently at a loss for words. Abby is used to this – McGee isn’t all that great with words. Computers? Yes, fantastic. People? Not so much. His own feelings? Never.
“Come on, Tim,” Abby says coaxingly.
It’s late night. The sky outside is dark; it’s nearing midnight. McGee arrived half an hour ago, looking lost and cute, even more so than usual. Abby can never say no to him, and when he asked to come inside, she held the door open and then went to prepare the hot chocolate.
Now she sits in front of him and watches him expectantly.
“Tony told me he loved me.”
He hasn’t said anything about his feelings for Tony before, although Abby has suspected. She squeals.
“That’s wonderful!”
“He did it after almost dropping off a seven story building,” Tim continues, and he sounds distinctly unhappy.
“He did what?” Abby asks.
“Arnett almost ran him over,” Tim says. “He had to jump over the edge to avoid getting hit, and I—uh—saved him.”
“Wow, I really should go with you into the field sometimes,” Abby says. “But he’s okay?”
Tim nods.
“So you don’t think it’s real?” Abby asks. “The love you part? Come on, haven’t I taught you better than that? Why wouldn’t it be real?”
“Why would it be?” Tim shoots back, morosely.
“Because it’s the first thing he says after being rescued!” Abby says. “The first thing. He says what was on his mind when he was hanging there, McGee. And if the first thing he thinks of is that he loves you, don’t you think that’s a pretty great sign?”
“You know, don’t you?” Tim sighs.
“That you’re crushing on Tony big time?” Abby asks. “Well, yeah. I mean, you haven’t actually said anything, but the way you look at him and talk to him—”
Tim drops his head into his hands. “Oh god, does everyone know?”
“I really doubt it,” Abby says, and it’s true. “Ziva isn’t good with emotions or reading people, so I don’t think she’s figured it out. Ducky—well, Ducky knows everything, so he might. Palmer, no – he wouldn’t know a clue if it jumped up and bit him in the ass, at least not about this kind of thing. And Gibbs—I don’t think so. Or he does, and he doesn’t care. Could be either one.”
“Abby, Gibbs is a marine,” Tim says miserably. “He’d—I don’t know what he’d do if he found out.” He sighs, turns resolute. “It doesn’t matter. He’ll never find out, because there’s nothing to find out.”
“Oh, come on,” Abby says. “You can’t tell me something like this and then not do anything about it. It’s way too good for that.”
She has seen the looks Tim sometimes gives Tony, when he’s not watching. She has seen the enthralled look on McGee’s face when Tony speaks, and the exasperated smiles when they tease each other. Moreover, she has heard and seen the same things in Tony.
“Abby, you’re not playing matchmaker,” Tim says, frowning at her, because he knows that she would love to do so given the chance.
Abby pouts. She knows that Tim thinks she’s very cute, and he’s hardly immune to her, but in this case, his fear of Tony finding out that Tim has feelings that are beyond those of an admiring colleague apparently wins out.
Abby takes his mug, which is now empty, and places it amongst the rest of the dishes.
“And if Tony comes to me and tells me that he’s madly in love with you?” Abby asks. She knows that the likelihood is very slim, even though she and Tony are very close. Tony hides things from her sometimes, like he did when he went undercover for Director Shepard. It is possible that he’s hiding feelings as well – because whether or not McGee believes her, she knows that it’s true that if it was the first thing out of Tony’s mouth when he was saved, then it’s important.
“He won’t, don’t worry,” Tim says. He stands, on his way out now, because it’s almost midnight and he has work tomorrow.
Abby hugs him. When they pull apart, Tim looks at her warily.
“Don’t go talking to Tony about this, okay? Promise?”
Abby purses her mouth, rather unhappily, because she’s fairly certain that she could make both boys happy in very little time. Perhaps she ought to lock the two of them in the elevator until they’ve solved their issues.
“Abby,” McGee says again. “Promise.”
She gives a put-upon sigh, and crosses her fingers behind her back. “Fine. I promise.”
When the goodnights have been exchanged, Tim leaves, lumbering into the waiting darkness outside, and Abby feels a little sad that she couldn’t manage to make him happier.
The door has only barely had time to close before Abby is gathering up her own things – she puts on her shoes, takes her jacket, grabs her purse – and then she too is out the door. She has made impromptu visits to Tony late at night before; he won’t be suspicious. And besides, Tim’s admission isn’t the only thing that has her running into the night – she wants to make sure Tony is all right.
When Tony opens the door, she realizes she woke him.
“Abby?” he asks, giving her a bleary look. “Did something happen?”
“You almost died – again,” Abby says, poking an accusing finger into his chest.
“It kinda comes with the job,” Tony says, and yawns. “Are you coming inside?”
“Yes,” Abby says.
Tony’s apartment isn’t all that big, and it’s sparsely furnished. DVD:s fill the bookshelves in the living room, and something is playing on the TV.
“Were you sleeping on the couch again?” Abby asks, seeing the messy blanket laying there, the couch pillows in slight disarray.
Tony shrugs his answer and she knows he did. “Was there something you wanted, Abs?”
“I wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Abby says, although it’s not quite true. She’s trying to figure out how to steer the conversation onto Tim. “What happened?”
“Crazy bitch tried to run me over,” Tony says tiredly, slumping down on the couch and pulling one of the blankets around him. “I had nowhere to go but over the edge.”
“And McGee saved you?”
“Been talking to Probie, Abs?” Tony asks.
“He came by,” Abby says, and she hopes her voice is dismissive.
Tony nods. “Well, then, yeah—Probie saved me. Took him long enough, too. Should take him out to run sometimes – he needs it.”
“Be nice, that’s your savior you’re talking about,” Abby says, but she’s grinning, because she too knows that McGee is by far the least fit member of Gibbs’ team.
“Doesn’t make it less true,” Tony says, and for a moment, she can see the true Tony smile.
“And then what happened?”
Tony shrugs again and Abby knows that if she hadn’t already found out about what had been said after the saving business was done, she’d never have found out about it from Tony.
“Nothing,” Tony says. “Gibbs ordered McGee to take me home, he did, and I’ve been home since.”
“Why are you always alone after almost dying?” Abby asks, sitting down next to him on the couch.
Tony shrugs, giving a half-smile that isn’t really a smile at all, but more of a grimace. “Why not?”
“Because someone obviously needs to make sure that you get some sleep—”
“Hey, I was sleeping—”
“In your bed,” Abby says pointedly.
“Well, there’s that,” Tony says. “I just can’t seem to fall asleep in bed anymore.”
“Why not?” Abby asks, because she worries about him. She knows that since the ordeal with Jeanne, he hasn’t cared about himself as much. It’s like he’s—lost, somehow.
He looks at her warily. “I really must be tired. Normally I wouldn’t even have said this much.”
“Don’t say that like it’s a good thing,” Abby says. “It’s not. So why aren’t you sleeping right?”
Tony shrugs, and gives her a look that’s almost apologetic. “I don’t know. I mean, I’ve never been a big sleeper, but—I guess the last year took its toll.”
He runs a hand through his hair, messing it up in a way that it’s rarely messed up at work. It’s not the first time she sees him in this kind of state – she has been here before, late at night, and there have been several occasions at work when Gibbs has worked his team so hard they have nearly fallen asleep standing. She knows; the only reason she doesn’t fall asleep at NCIS sometimes, is her Caf-Pow.
She leans back against the couch, and takes Tony’s arm and pulls him along with her. He doesn’t follow at first, but at her insistent tug, he leans into her embrace and lets her wrap her arms around him. She isn’t usually on the giving side of this type of comfort, even though she sees herself as a giving person – in the company of Tony and Gibbs, she’s always the little one. It feels nice to be on ‘the other side’, she thinks.
“You know, there are people who’ll listen if you just talk to them about stuff,” she says softly.
He starts to sit up, and she tightens her grip on him, holding him down. She knows that if he really wants to, he can sit up, but it doesn’t seem like he does, because he relaxes again.
“I don’t—”
“Me, for starters,” Abby says, interrupting before he can say that he doesn’t need to talk to anyone, or that no one would be interested in listening. “And Ducky. And Gibbs, really.”
“I don’t want Gibbs knowing,” Tony mutters. “I’m his senior field agent, I’m not supposed to have problems.”
Abby wants to slap him for that. “Everyone has problems. Or did you forget Gibbs’ past? Or Ziva’s, for that matter?”
“They have the deaths of loved ones as problems,” Tony says. “People they loved being murdered. Me, I have a screwed up undercover relationship where the girl now happens to hate me. It doesn’t qualify.”
“What about nearly getting blown up?” Abby asks. “Or for that matter dropping off the side of a building after some crazy chick tries to run you over?”
Tony doesn’t reply, but sighs against her. She runs a hand through his hair.
“McGee would listen too, you know,” she says. “And he doesn’t have death and murders of loved ones as history.”
Tony is silent for a long time, and she starts to wonder if he’s fallen asleep. She wouldn’t mind – he needs it, and she’s warm and rather comfortable here. Tony is like her big brother, and it’s nice to know that she can be there for him, even just a little bit.
“McGee wouldn’t be interested.”
The words are quiet, accompanied by a shrug to make them seem unimportant. But Abby knows, because it took far too long for Tony to respond, that it isn’t shrugged off because it’s unimportant – it’s shrugged off because it is important. By making it seem as though Tony doesn’t care about whether or not McGee is interested, he guards himself against possible let-downs.
There are some things Abby simply knows, and this is one of those things.
She drops a kiss onto Tony’s hair. His breathing is starting to even out into sleep, and she smiles.
“Yeah,” she says, very softly. “He would be.”
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