19

It felt like he'd walked into a blast furnace when he pushed out the door at the airport. The sun was so large and bright that it looked like it was within walking distance. Sunglasses replaced eyes on every person walking in and out of the airport doors.

He had anticipated the conspicuous consumption, but still looked on in fascination as limo after limo pulled up to the curb, dropping off or picking up people carrying luggage that probably cost half his yearly salary. He stepped to the curb, but recognized no one. Dubai's airport wasn't handicap accessible, and so he wasn't surprised when he didn't see her. She couldn't park at the curb without getting ticketed, and a parking ticket in Dubai cost $1000 U.S. dollars.

He breathed in the heated air, found a bench, and waited for her to drive by. His breathing felt heavy in the heat. It was a dry heat, different than the sticky wet heat near D.C.'s swampy basin. In D.C., his thin brown hair clung to his scalp like a wet washcloth 7 months out of the year. Here, the air was as harsh and dry as sand, already stinging his throat as it robbed him of moisture.

He heard shouting and looked up as two men started shouting at each other in Arabic. One limo was apparently stealing the space of another. Wearing traditional thawb robes and sunglasses, they shouted, gesticulating wildly at one another. Just at the point McGee thought it would come to blows, one of the men threw up his arms in conciliation. A moment later, they were hugging like old friends.

"Tim!"

She was waving at him from the passenger seat of an SUV. He grabbed his bag and ran for it.

…

She couldn't stop smiling as she leaned over the side of her seat in the front, holding his hand. "The government here doesn't even address the rights of physically disabled people. Like nobody in the government even knows how to have a conversation with me about getting a driver's license. Ahmed here has a contract to drive me to and from work on weekdays and up to five hours for errands on weekends. If I want more time, I just slip him some cash. God, it's so good to see you! You look terrific!"

Her excitement was infectious and, for a moment, he forgot all of the things that had happened in the last year.

Ahmed turned his head and broke into sharp Arabic, and she disengaged with Tim as she responded confidently in Arabic to whatever was concerning him. Tim turned his attention to the view out his window. He hadn't expected so much grass. All of it was manicured to perfection as if the country was one huge garden. Shiny new high rises dotted the landscape in all directions. He wondered what it would be to ride an elevator to the 50th floor of one of these glass monoliths instead of walking up the worn stone steps of his brownstone into his small apartment with its high ceilings and wood trim.

…..

The night before he got on the flight, he'd worked late. Tony had spent two whole weeks riding him about the trip. Every day there was some new gift on his desk: a guidebook to Dubai, an Arabic phrase book, a Dubai real estate guide, new pair of sunglasses, a DVD pack of the best paraplegic movies ever… It would have been sweet if it wasn't so strident. Tony knew about the job interview. They all knew. He'd casually mentioned that there was a DoD analyst position open in Dubai that utilized his skill set, and that was all he had to say.

Hurricane DiNozzo pounded at him relentlessly about how he needed to take the job. It made sense. It was the right thing. He would be easily replaceable. Delilah deserved this. The team would be fine. They'd hardly miss him. McGee had given up even responding. The more Tony pushed, the deeper Tim withdrew inside himself.

Ellie seemed to sense that the balance was off, but she didn't know what to do other than watch Tony talk incessantly while McGee ignored him. On that last day, Tony ventured into the territory of this being McGee's chance at being a father, and McGee had abruptly stood, swaying unsteadily, and walked away. Tony watched him leave, and then stopped talking for the first time in two weeks.

Gibbs looked up. "You happy now?"

Tony cursed under his breath, gathered up his backpack, and headed for the elevator. Ellie watched it all and turned to Gibbs. "That was weird. Why does Tony want him to get that job in Dubai so bad? I mean, Tony acts like he's excited about it, but it doesn't feel real. I know he would miss McGee like crazy."

Gibbs sighed. "Tony is Tony. Go home. You spend enough nights apologizing to that husband of yours on the phone. Tonight doesn't have to be like that."

…..

"I told everyone at the office that they'd have to wait until tomorrow night to meet you. Tonight is just for us. Ahmed is picking us up in an hour. There's a great restaurant downtown. Caters to ex-pats. You'll love it."

"Sounds good," he said as he surveyed the apartment. It was small, sleek, and modern. There was a large floor to ceiling window in the living room that looked out on the city. It made the apartment feel like a fishbowl. He could see the jet skis darting around in the Arabian Gulf in the distance like little fleas on the water.

"Are you too jetlagged? I mean, we only have three days. Am I cramming in too many things?" She was in the doorway, a concerned look on her delicate features.

He smiled. She was so very pretty. "No, this is perfect. I can't wait to eat whatever we're going to be eating."

"Liar," she said as she stuck out her tongue. "You're such a picky eater, but you'll learn to like it."

"Do you need any help?"

"Nope," she said with a note of defiance in her tone. "I am very self sufficient."

…..

Delilah seemed to know half the people in the restaurant. She leaned over after another couple came over, everyone bussing her cheek, and examining him closely. "The ex-pat community here is tight. You get to know people fast."

"Food here is good," he lied.

She looked at the ceiling. "Well, eat it anyway. A good hamburger costs $40 around here. The local fare is what we can afford on a government salary."

"I missed you."

She studied him for a moment. "Me too, Tim. So much has happened in such a short time."

"We'll figure it out."

She sighed. "One way or another, we will. Now, eat. There isn't a single Nutter Butter in this entire country. Believe me. I checked."

He dug into the lamb and rice. "No, seriously. I love this stuff."

…..

He walked out into the living room in his boxers and sat near the window. Dubai nightlife was alive despite the hour. Limos and SUVs still dotted the streets below. He could almost hear the constant honking he'd experienced earlier as expensive vehicle after expensive vehicle had weaved wildly in and out of traffic during their drive. It was like a city filled Ziva Davids.

Behind him, Delilah's gentle snoring stopped, and he worried he'd woken her, but when he peeked in the open bedroom door, he saw that she'd only shifted onto her side. He sat back down, thoughts of Ziva igniting a ball of anger in the pit of his stomach. He still missed her, but over time, his concern had shifted to anger.

She'd abandoned them, not just Tony. All of them. He knew her reasons were complex, but she'd buried herself deeply into his heart and it hurt him when she left. Most days, he stuffed that anger, never mentioning her to Gibbs or Tony, but tonight he really felt it. He remembered times when she'd come over to his apartment and get him to talk. She'd listen to him talk for hours while he spilled truths he'd barely even acknowledged to himself.

He imagined her in the living room with him right now. There were so many things he needed to talk out with her. She could help him so much with Delilah. He wasn't sure how much he could share about this problem, but he suspected she could guess what he couldn't say.

If Ziva was here now, he'd ask her how to find the magic again: the fun and the spontaneity that had punctuated their early lovemaking. They'd worked hard to recover that after the explosion. Delilah wasn't the problem; he was. He still treated her like she was made of glass. Too gentle. Too anxious. Too choreographed. He treated every night with her like a performance. And while his performance was satisfactory, it was a bit joyless. She deserved better. He was desperate to give her better.

"Tim."

He turned, blinking.

"What's wrong?" He could see her outline in the darkness as she rose up on her elbows.

"Jet lag, I guess."

"I don't believe you. Come here."

He got up obediently and slid in next to her.

She leaned over him, her long hair shading her features. "Tell me something real."

He reached up to stroke her face. "I'm still not right with you…in bed."

"I know."

"I'm so sorry."

She leaned in and kissed him. "I love you very much, Tim. Our sex life isn't going to change that."

"It will eventually."

"Stop that. It's getting better. You have to admit that. Maybe tomorrow night, I'll dress up. How about ze French maid?" She smiled.

He swallowed. "Okay. But if we're really going to do this, then ze French maid is out. I'm thinking sexy DoD spy. We need leather."

She threw her head back and laughed. "Yeah, we got this."

…

"It's too hot to be outside. Next best thing in Dubai is the mall."

"Uh-huh," he responded as he walked next to her. Every store they passed was luxury in excess. Arabs walked in groups laden down with bags from Burberry, Louis Vuitton, Versace, etc… There was as many western tourists as well, mostly women dressed like they were at a wedding clacking along on impossibly high heels. "Can we afford anything here?"

"No," she chuckled. "It's all window shopping. Ah, here is my personal favorite."

He sighed as he looked at the Chanel store. "Purses?"

She nodded. "You have no idea. The girls like me. They let me touch the bags."

He frowned. "How much are they?"

She shook her head. "Don't even think about it. It's like a giraffe. Fascinating to look at. Impossible to own. It's just like a trip to the zoo."

"Okay."

He started after her, but she stopped him. "I'll go in alone. You'd be bored to death. Seriously. Sit on the bench. People watch. That's the other fun thing to do at a mall in Dubai."

…..

He sat at his desk pretending to work after Tony stormed out and Gibbs told Ellie to go home. It was closing on midnight and he still sat there, staring at his computer screen. Gibbs was still across from him, desk light on, reading a file with his glasses sitting on the end of his nose.

McGee sighed and shut down his computer. Still, he sat there. Gibbs took his glasses off and closed the file. Pushing McGee never worked.

Tim worried his mouth for a moment. "I don't know what to do."

"It's just a long weekend."

"You know there's an interview at the end of it."

Gibbs shrugged. "Opportunities can be good things."

"Tony can't wait to get rid of me."

"Well, you know better than that."

"Yeah," he nodded.

"Do you want this job, Tim?"

McGee shook his head slowly.

"Then why are you interviewing?"

"I'm 35 years old, and I'm still doing the same job I had 10 years ago."

"It's what the job is."

Tim winced. "How old were you when you became a dad?"

"24."

"I'm 35."

"Yeah, you said that. This about your biological clock, Tim?"

"I don't think I could find a better woman than Delilah. I mean, she's amazing."

"Agreed."

Tim leaned forward. "How did you know with…Shannon?"

Gibbs chuckled. "Prettiest girl I ever saw. Plus, she didn't take any of my crap. With her, I met my match. Is Delilah the one?"

"Don't know how to answer that, Boss. I just know I love her and I miss her. I know I want to be a husband and a dad. I want those things, Boss. Maybe, that's what I can have with Delilah. I worry that I'm going to get old and find out I only lived half a life."

Gibbs shook his head. "If this is half a life then it's a pretty impressive half."

McGee looked down at his keyboard. "Thanks for waiting for me."

Gibbs got up and grabbed his coat. "You're always worth the wait, Tim. Come on. I'll walk you out."

….

In the pool, she almost felt whole again. Balancing was weird, but her arms had grown stronger in the months since the explosion, and she had no trouble staying afloat. She closed her eyes as she lay on her back and floated. On weekends, she sometimes spent half a day in the pool.

"Delilah?"

"Yes?" She didn't open her eyes.

"Sunscreen."

One corner of her mouth curled. "You've put it on me three times already."

"The label here says that when you're in the water, you should re-apply it every hour. It's been 68 minutes."

"Will I always love this about you?" She murmured, eyes still closed.

"What? What did you say?"

She sighed and lifted her head. "You just want to feel me up. If you're so hot to get your hands on me again, then get in the water yourself with your sex lotion and catch me."

She saw him look around, wide eyed and it made her chuckle. "We're alone, Tim. I'm the only one who ever comes up to the roof pool to swim."

McGee looked around once more, put the lotion bottle between his teeth, and dived in.

….

He couldn't stop the smile. It kept popping back onto his face despite his efforts to temper it. It was embarrassing because it told her exactly what he was thinking.

She wheeled into the bathroom. "You're going to cut yourself if you try shaving over that silly grin on your face."

"It was right this time," he said looking at her in the mirror.

She nodded. "It was fun again."

"Maybe, the pool is the trick."

She shook her head. "Forgetting about my paralysis is the trick, my friend."

He nodded. "How many people are going to be at this party?"

She shrugged. "People from work mostly. DoD, embassy folk, Interpol, some CIA. Probably 20-25 people. We'll be at Rashid's home."

"Not at a restaurant?"

"You know they are funky about booze here. Muslim country. Technically, you need a license to drink even if you're a tourist. It's just easier to drink at people's homes."

"I don't like parties with a lot of strangers," he said as his grin faded.

"You're just feeling shy. People have been hearing about you for months. I get to show off my handsome boyfriend."

She backed out of the bathroom while he looked at his boring face and thinning hair and sighed.

…

Everyone at the party was drinking like a sailor on leave. He didn't even try to keep up. Within an hour, he'd been hugged or kissed by everyone in the room. Delilah's friends studied him like he was on display at the Smithsonian. It was the kind of situation that Tony would eat up. He would become the life of the party, but McGee had no skills for this. At some point in the evening, almost every person had invaded his personal space and draped their arms around his shoulders to have a private little chat about what a terrific gal Delilah was. Mostly, he nodded and smiled. They required little more of him.

Then came Justine, a blowsy British blonde in her fifties with too cleavage. She smelled of whiskey, peanuts, and expensive perfume. She herded him out onto a narrow, concrete balcony where he welcomed the cool air of a desert night.

"Pretty stuffy in there," she said as she crowded him against the railing.

"It feels nice out here."

Our Delilah is special to us."

"Me too."

"It took a lot of guts to come over here like she did."

He nodded. The paralysis had definitely triggered something in her. Before the explosion, she'd taken her physicality for granted. She'd joked with him on their first date that she hadn't been to a gym in years. When there had been no sense of her limits, testing them held no interest. Now, she wanted to push every boundary.

"She's bright, talented, committed, beautiful, and brave as hell."

It felt a bit like a lecture. He grimaced. "You're not telling me anything new."

"She can have children, you know. Paraplegic women give birth every day."

His face reddened and he looked away.

"You're mad she told me. I get that. I suppose I would be too, but treating her like she's too delicate will only push her away."

He wanted to be rude. She deserved that, but the whole theme of this party seemed to be about excess in all its variations. Drunk strangers invading his privacy just made sense.

"Paraplegic women have numerous risk factors for pregnancy. There are many ways to be parents," he replied tightly.

She held his arm. "She wants to prove she can do everything that an able bodied person can do. Let her stretch herself as far as she can go."

He stiffened but didn't pull away. There would only be another of Delilah's friends to latch on if he freed himself. "We aren't even engaged, Justine."

Justine sensed his distress. "We're a bit crazy over here. Ex-pats get tight. We're lonely. We need to create family when we're missing ours back home. We play hard and we're fiercely loyal to one another. It's a blessing and a curse, I suppose."

He relaxed. "I'm glad she has good friends here."

"Don't wait too long, Timothy," she said pushing a long fingernail into his side.

…

Delilah did a medley gangsta rap hits from the 90's all the way home to Ahmed's distinct disapproval. McGee wanted to lean forward and tell Ahmed to lighten up a little, but he also sensed a note of concern in the Arab. She would need a person like him in her life as she continued to test her limitations.

He lifted her on the bed, despite constant complaining that she could do it herself, and patiently pulled various nightgowns out of drawers until she found the "perfect one for sexy time".

She shouted out a few more alcohol-fueled promises of debauchery while he brushed his teeth, but he was relieved to find her fast asleep when he got back into the room. He pulled his cell out of his bag and checked the time in D.C. Ducky was probably on his 2nd cup of afternoon tea about now.

He dropped into the couch and waited. "Hello? Ducky?"

"Timothy! Is everything alright?"

"Just fine. Am I bothering you on a Sunday?"

"Not a bit. I am just sitting here reading the London Times. What can I do for you?"

Couldn't sleep. Just wanted to ask you a couple of questions."

"Of course!"

"Do you remember a conversation you and I had about a month ago about pregnancy and paraplegic women?"

"I'll say. You stormed out of here when I told you that Delilah could have a very healthy pregnancy."

"I stormed out?"

"You can be very stubborn when you want, you know."

"I apologize for that."

"Not necessary, my boy. It was very Gibbsian. Why are we having this conversation when you are halfway around the world? Have you and Delilah…."

"No, Ducky. We haven't formalized anything. Nothing. Being here just feels complicated."

"Delilah is lonely, I am sure."

"Delilah isn't the problem. I think I am. Why can't I make decisions? What am I waiting for?"

"Is there pressure for a decision to be made?"

"No."

"Then why are you in knots over this?"

"What am I waiting for, Ducky? Am I going to just spend the rest of my life in the bullpen catching cases?"

"Well, I've heard of worse legacies. You contribute greatly, Timothy, and are cared about by many. You must never lose sight of that."

McGee bit his lip. "Ducky, are you sorry you never married, never had children?"

The line went silent.

"Ducky?"

"I'm not sorry, Timothy. I've made choices. I've had adventures. I've lived a life worth living."

"No regrets?"

"When I was younger, I had regrets…not anymore."

"What changed?"

Ducky sighed. "You can never travel all roads, Timothy. You have to make choices. All choices have both rewards and consequences. Dwelling on what might have been is wasted time. I may not have fathered children, but I have loved people as if they were my children, and that's been satisfying enough for me."

"Thanks Ducky."

"Have you had your interview yet?"

"Tomorrow."

"I wish you success, Timothy."

"Thanks."

"Timothy?"

"Yeah."

"I want you to know that you are one of the rewards I've received from the choices I've made."

McGee smiled. "That's helps, Ducky. It helps a lot."

…

"I'll make breakfast," Delilah mumbled as she groped for her chair. Tim resisted the urge to jump up and insist he could do it for her.

"A piece of toast with peanut butter is fine," he called from the bathroom.

"You and your peanut butter."

He smiled into the mirror as he gelled his hair.

"You nervous?" She said wheeling into the bedroom with a plate of toast on her lap.

"I can't really tell," he said as he knotted his tie. "Being nervous is a natural state for me as you know."

"I'm nervous."

"Really?"

She nodded. "Mostly, I'm nervous that you'll take the job for my sake. I just don't think that's not a good enough reason."

Tim sat on the bed. "Being closer to you is important to me."

"I like having you in my bed."

"Me too."

"I also like being independent. I like finding out what I am capable of."

"You think I protect you too much?"

"I think it would be too easy to let you protect me."

"You're confusing me, Delilah."

"We've both reached for something in our careers that has required sacrifices to our personal lives."

He took the plate off her lap and reached for her hand. "Just say it."

Her eyes got teary. "I was so excited when this opportunity came up. I thought it would be perfect for you. But…"

He squeezed her hand. "It's okay. Keep talking."

She shook her head. "I'm not ready for you yet. In D.C., we have enough space to give each other room. Here, it's a tiny fishbowl. It would be the same group of people, the same places, the same activities. I'm still learning how to live this new life and I don't want any help. I want to do this on my own. I'm not ready to have you chasing after me with sunscreen."

"Seriously?"

"Come on," she sighed. "The sunscreen is a metaphor. You know what I mean."

"So, no new job?"

"I talked to him last night. Told him I wasn't comfortable with my boyfriend in the same office. He said it wasn't my decision to make, but I figured you wouldn't want it after this conversation."

"The guy I was going to interview with was at the party?"

"Yeah. He was the guy who took his shirt off and wrote "Fuck Me" on his chest with pink lipstick."

His eyebrows went up. "Wow. He would've been a great boss."

"Yes, it is a very weird little world we have here in Dubai."

McGee sighed and started loosening his tie.

"Would you have taken the job, Tim? You really would've left Tony and Gibbs and Abby?"

He pulled the tie over his head and started to unbutton his shirt. "No. I wasn't going to take the job."

She shook her head. "So, this was all for me."

"Some of it. And some of it was about pushing myself beyond what I know. I want to be a husband someday and a dad. I don't want to lose my chance at that by not taking risks."

She lifted herself, and leaned toward him. "Let me sit with you."

He pulled her into his lap.

She rested her head under his chin. "Tim, there isn't a deadline on any of this, is there?"

He kissed the top of her head. "I guess not. I worry about the distance. I worry that I could lose you to a smarter, braver guy. Although, if last night's crop of friends is any indication, I'm less concerned."

She giggled. "They take some getting used to. We see the threats before the rest of the world, and we usually spend all of our time trying to get people to pay attention. It's stressful. People need to blow off steam."

"You really think we have time?" He whispered into her hair.

"Yeah. We do. This weekend confirmed it. You're more than worth the wait."

"Remember when we fought on the phone a month or so about paraplegic women having their own children?"

"I do."

'Turns out I didn't really know what I was talking about."

She smiled. "I know."

"I'm thinking that one day…in the not too distant future, we might have some more conversations of that nature."

She planted a kiss on his chin. "I would like that very much."

…..

Dulles was quiet at 5 a.m. on a Tuesday morning. McGee liked it that way. Nothing moving but a few weary travelers and a guy cleaning floors. A young woman with tired eyes was mechanically going through the steps of opening a coffee kiosk, but Tim was too tired to put down his bag and search for cash.

Gibbs wasn't expecting him in at all, but he figured he'd get a few hours of sleep and then go in for the afternoon. It was better than sitting around his apartment trying to process Dubai. A businessman was curled up on two plastic seats sleeping and McGee smiled. The guy was curled up the same way DiNozzo did when he took forty winks on the floor beside his desk. In fact, the guy was wearing the same kind of Italian loafers Tony spent a fortune on last year. Worked them into every conversation he had for a month.

A thatch of brown hair stuck up on the back of the guy's head and McGee stopped. The guy had a small patch that was thinning. It was shaped like Florida. They'd argued about it for weeks. McGee took pictures and put them on the big screen. DiNozzo claimed it looked like Italy, a symbol of his heritage, but McGee argued it was clearly Florida. He finally had to put up an outline of the state overlaid on the photo to prove he was right.

"Tony?"

"Huh?" The man on the chairs twisted his body and slid onto the floor. He looked up at McGee, his face screwed up from sleep.

"What are you doing here?"

"Picking your ass up," he mumbled as he rubbed his eyes.

"I was going to take a cab."

"Dumb idea." DiNozzo stretched his arms out wide. He got to his feet. "Car's this way."

….

He stared down at the worn formica of the table. "I'm tired."

"Actually, you're McGee. Never forget that. Now, Evelyn here needs your breakfast order."

McGee looked up at the waitress. She was somewhere between 50 and 80 years old with more lines on her face than a county road map and a voice like the gravel roads that never made it on the map. She was always there whenever they showed up after a long night on a case. "Hi Evelyn."

"Well, hello McGee. Are we going to chit chat for awhile? 'Cause if we are, I need to tell the other 20 customers I'm serving that I'm going on break with my Navy boyfriends."

"Technically, we're civilians," he mumbled.

She rolled her eyes. "DiNozzo."

Tony smiled. "Don't mind him. He's jetlagged and ornery. He wants the ranch breakfast, eggs over easy, hash browns, bacon, whole wheat toast with strawberry jam. He also wants a pancake on the side. Extra butter and blueberry syrup. He needs a coffee, cream, and large O.J., no pulp."

McGee scowled. "I don't want all that."

"Yes, you do." He looked up at Evelyn. "He never eats when he travels. He's picky like a six year old. In Somalia, he lived on cookies for a week."

"Fascinating. And you?"

"You mean, besides you in a string bikini on a deserted beach." He wagged an eyebrow at her.

"For the love of God, DiNozzo! I got two tables of truckers looking to get back on the road. You start behaving or I'll send them your way." She shook her head.

"Okay! Breakfast burrito except no tortilla, only egg whites, no hash browns, light on the cheese, heavy on the black beans, and enough salsa to choke a horse. Plus, a coffee and water with lime."

She looked up at the ceiling. "Right. In other words, you want scrambled eggs with cheese, beans, salsa, coffee, and a glass of tap water."

"Actually, that's not exactly…" he said to her retreating back.

"Tony, why did you come and get me?"

"Cab rides are expensive."

McGee sighed. "I didn't take the job. Didn't even interview."

"I know. Gibbs talked to the head of DoD Dubai yesterday."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "From the sounds of the conversation, Gibbs was vetting the guy. Wanted to know if they deserved you."

"It's very different over there."

Tony nodded. "A bunch of bored, overworked bureaucrats and spooks. I went to a couple of parties in North Africa when I was looking for Ziva. They could put fraternities to shame."

"That's about right."

"And Delilah?"

His face softened. "She's great."

"Changed any?"

"Stronger. More independent. She actually seems…happy."

Tony studied him. "And…that's not good?"

Coffee appeared, but Evelyn got away before Tony could say anything to her.

McGee poured cream, and started stirring it slowly. "I just don't want to screw it up. She's special, you know."

"Oh, I know."

McGee put the spoon down. "Then what am I doing leaving her halfway across the world? If she's so special, why am I not there? And why is she so happy to be there?"

"She still needs the space to figure out life in wheelchair, right?"

"What if I lose her?"

Tony shook his head. "There are no guarantees. I followed my heart with Ziva and look where that got me."

"I know. Sorry about that."

Evelyn slid dishes on the table, and Tony stared down at his scrambled eggs. "And here I thought it was going to be fun picking you up."

"I don't want to miss out, Tony."

"Me neither."

McGee broke the yolk on his eggs. "So what do I do?"

"You got a great job, the best girlfriend in the world, and me. I figure you got it pretty good. So, enjoy the ride, my friend."

"You'll tell me if you think I'm screwing things up with Delilah?"

"Are you kidding?" Tony said grinning. "Your well-being is a particular obsession of mine."

"You're just happy I'm not going, aren't you?"

"I don't know about all that," Tony said as he stirred the beans into his eggs.

"I'll give you my pancake with extra butter and blueberry syrup if you admit that you're happy I'm staying."

"I'm watching my weight," he said studiously ignoring the butter sliding its way down the pancake.

"Blueberry syrup is your favorite, not mine," McGee said softly. "Although, I am sure those black beans are delicious."

Tony narrowed his eyes. "Okay. Give me the damn pancake."

"Admit you didn't want me to move."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Alright! It's true. You belong in the bullpen next to me where I can see you and prank you and remind you of all of your shortcomings."

McGee pushed the pancake to him. "I missed you too, Tony."

…..

The End