Troubled Brother by ceilidh

A/N:- Hello again, all, and - yes, my faithful McMuse has finally done the trick, and de-blocked me for this latest 'missing scene' story from Twisted Sister. Admittedly, it isn't the same idea that I originally had, but I hope you still enjoy it. I'm now working on another little ficlet, to settle some issues between Sarah and Gibbs.

For now, though, it's McGee and Gibbs discovering the meaning of family, and healing some private wounds along the way.

Spoilers, of course, for the truly brilliant Twisted Sister, along with a very brief reference to Probie, another of my all time favourite episodes. As always, I hope you enjoy!

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So a little lie sometimes was good for the soul. Yeah, for other souls, maybe – but clearly not for his. If it was, he'd be sleeping now, letting his exhausted body rest – not counting cracks in his ceiling.

Well, they weren't really cracks. They were just the usual wear-and-tear splinters of paint and plaster. But to a mind that craved sleep, but was too restless to find it, they were still a niggling discovery.

An addictive one, too. Kinda like Pringles. Once you started on 'em, it was damn impossible to stop. And when you graded each one on a scale of points, too, on how big/long/straight/curvy they were – yeah, Tim McGee dryly chided himself, you were either very, very tired or just very, very weird.

He'd reached fifty points already, and he was still as wide awake now as he'd been when he'd started

Maybe he should try visualising them as sheep instead. At least they'd be more entertaining, and – no, there was a thought that, as Tim groaned and frettishly rubbed his eyes, he just didn't want to finish.

Sheep.

Could you really electrocute them?

Could you keep the damn things still long enough to do it?

And surely they'd go 'baaaa' rather than 'bzzzzz', or more likely 'BAAAARGH!!!!' and – aw, jeez!

'McGee, you can be one sick puppy sometimes, and – ooooh, wiggly crack with spider. Double points'

Ruefully adding yet another hated chore to an ever growing to-do list, Tim then sighed into the darkness – any hope of drifting to peaceful dreams still denied by a mind too crowded with guilt to let him.

He could live with a harmless spider, but living with his conscience, knowing he'd deceived Gibbs? The man was a second father to him, and… damn it, what the hell had he been thinking?

Yes, of course he'd had to protect Sarah, and keep her safe, but… damn it, he should have told him.

Even though Gibbs had accepted his apology, Tim McGee was still struggling to accept it himself – his conscience re-roused by the words of reassurance which, perversely, had left him feeling even worse.

'Sometimes, McGee, a little lie? It's good for the soul-'

'Oh, yeah? Okay, boss, if lying's so good for my soul, then why the hell can't I sleep?'

Swallowing hard, Tim rubbed his eyes again, trying to relieve aches of exhaustion and frustration beyond.

The same question. The same answer. The same realization that, for once, his mentoring hero was wrong

Gibbs' word was law, of course. So were the rules that no-one on his team, not even Tony, dared to defy. Until now, he'd always followed that word, and those rules, to the absolute letter, but – no. Not now. However much he wanted to believe what Gibbs had told him, his conscience just wouldn't allow it.

Whatever way you sliced the pie, the result was still the same. Lying was lying. It was as simple as that.

Mmmm. Pie.

Oh, great. On top of this damn insomnia, now he was hungry too. Yeah, McGenius, way to go.

Still, what else was this god-forsaken hour for, but the failsafe comfort of mom's famous apple pie? And since she'd fretted over him so much on that trip home last weekend, that he'd gotten so skinny – well, as the dutiful son he'd always been, he'd offered no resistance to her inevitable solution.

Smiling now at the memory, Tim gave his stomach a soothing pat as he recalled the feast it had enjoyed. A whole weekend of mom's famous home cooking.

Thank God he'd found that personal trainer.

Of course, that massive 'mom parcel' she'd made up for him would take a lot of sessions to burn it off. But if this night's sleep had to be lost, at least he could do some constructive gut-crunching instead.

Quiet gut-crunching, though. He really didn't feel like another visit from Mr Happy along the hall, and-

-uh-oh, another sick-puppy thought.

Forget the sheep. He liked sheep. They were cute, and sweetly cuddly. There was nothing cute or sweetly cuddly, though, about his new neighbour, and… yeah, to hell with it.

Fresh resolve, if maybe not coherent thought, coursed through him now as Tim padded into the kitchen. To hell with playing Mr Nice Guy. Any more threats from that creep, and he'd get shredded instead.

Opening the hamper he'd brought home with him, Tim now brightened with slightly happier thoughts.

He'd need energy, of course, and lots of it, so – yes, after pie. Definitely after pie.

Then he frowned again. That was one seriously big pie – more than a midnight work-out could cope with.

He could just eat some now, of course, and leave the rest for tomorrow, but – no, then again, maybe not. Instead of letting it go stale, he'd just had a much better idea – one that would soothe his conscience too.

Gibbs had told him to call if he needed to talk, and Tim knew he'd still be up, even at this ungodly hour. And that talk would be a lot easier with a peace offering of apple, not to mention humble, pie.

Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Tim then picked up his cellphone, and hit speed-dial one.

"Uh, b-boss? Yeah, it's- um… n-no, she's fine, but, um… no, um… no, boss. No, I'm not-"

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It was kinda later than he'd expected, but the call he'd known he'd get that night had finally come.

Closing the connection, Gibbs now studied his phone in combined relief and exasperation. Judging by the shakiness in Tim McGee's voice, it had taken him that long to work out what to say.

Even then, he'd spoken so softly, and stammered so much, that Gibbs had barely heard him – any comment that he might have made about it held back by both his conscience, and his judgment.

The kid was still clearly upset by what had been one hell of a day, for both him and his sister. Making him feel worse by teasing him, for an affliction that he'd worked so hard to overcome – no, for the brief time Kelly had suffered those same taunts, the father in him just wouldn't allow it.

Instead, brushing fresh sawdust from his hands, Gibbs headed upstairs into the house's main den – casting an appraising glance through the chaos before, smiling slightly, he moved on into the kitchen.

Tim McGee was coming to see him to talk – not to fret over the piles of junk in his living room.

He'd still need somewhere to sit, of course, or at least to feel comfortable, so – oh, to hell with it.

Returning to the den, Gibbs lifted a box from his easy chair and set it, safely hidden, behind its back. Disturbed by the movement, a small framed photo slid into sight, causing him to involuntarily wince.

Shannon and Kelly. His beloved wife and cherished daughter, taken from him by such brutal force – this poignant snapshot of them together reminding him, inevitably, of his own, devastating secret.

Until a few months ago, no-one had even known they'd existed, let alone how tragically they'd died. Not even Ducky, one of his oldest and most trusted friends, had known anything about them.

And if there was one thing Gibbs hated, aside from red tape and undrinkable coffee, it was hypocrisy. How could he condemn Tim McGee for keeping quiet about his family, when he'd done the same thing?

From that alone, he'd had no right to criticise him for being so secretive over his sister – especially when he'd have faced the inevitable threat of Tony DiNozzo circling lasciviously around her.

Common sense, though, and protecting your family, at whatever cost, would always earn his approval – and Gibbs smiled now, in quiet pride, as he traced his fingers over Kelly's timelessly laughing face.

Regardless of its many consequences and repercussions against him, Tim McGee had earned it today.

From the moment his little sister had come to him, in such terrified need for his help, that had been it. Nothing, not even his own career, had mattered to him except keeping her safe, and clearing her name – the ferocity with which he'd defended her causing Gibbs to laugh now, in fatherly pride at the memory.

Anyone, himself included, who'd ever seen Tim McGee as a soft touch had been proven wrong today. Beyond all that sweet, chivalrous shyness – oh yes, Gibbs dryly reflected, the kid had pure steel beneath.

He had quite a temper, too, although it wasn't nearly so volatile, or as caustically voluble, as his sister's.

Push it too far, though, and timid Timmy McGee went through a change of Clark Kent-ish proportions – their mild-mannered geek-boy, transformed within seconds into the big brother to beat all big brothers.

And when it came to belittling his little sister, not even Jenny Shepard was above that big brother's wrath

Listening to her challenge his actions, criticism which he'd reluctantly accepted, had been one thing. Then again, faced with such a barrage of cold, hard facts against him, he hadn't exactly had much choice.

But as Jen had discovered, even Tim McGee's legendary patience under pressure still had its limits.

Telling him he'd brought the agency that he'd willingly die for into disrepute had been the final straw. And expecting him to put its reputation ahead of his sister's was a line that he just wasn't going to cross.

With soft but breathtaking force, he'd ensured that his Director would never make that mistake again.

Gibbs doubted if he'd ever forget the mixed emotions on Jen's face as he'd then stormed out of her office. Yes, she'd achieved her aim. She'd manipulated the boy, quite brilliantly, into doing what she'd wanted.

But Gibbs knew there'd have been no pleasure in forcing Tim McGee to walk out on the career he loved. Losing one of her flagship team's strongest assets would, he knew, have been the hollowest of victories.

Yet as he'd retrieved Tim's badge and gun from her table, he was sure he'd seen a hint of approval too – the same pride he'd felt when he'd faced him, unflinchingly, in that elevator, and told him the same thing.

"She's my sister"

In those few, quiet words, he'd shown how far he'd come – and how much further he was prepared to go.

Sarah was his family. She was his sister. Nothing, and nobody, would ever take precedence above her.

That loyalty came with a cost, though. A toll on his conscience that went way beyond simple exhaustion. Gibbs had sensed it, and recognised it, throughout his seemingly impossible mission to clear her name.

In protecting her, and defending her, Tim McGee had lied. He'd violated the honesty that ruled his soul.

He'd lost that part of himself today, a priceless part of him that he could never get back again, and – well no, Gibbs corrected himself, still smiling as he studied the photo in his hand, that wasn't entirely true

Tim McGee may have lost part of his soul today, but he'd also found something that was just as precious. Now he just needed a few words of fatherly wisdom to make him realize just how damn lucky he was.

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When he was ready, he would start talking. A troubled genius, Gibbs dryly noted, couldn't be rushed.

If he tried, then Tim McGee would just retreat further into his shell, and that wouldn't achieve anything.

So until his bowed head lifted, and his voice returned… no, Gibbs would gratefully take this silence – especially since it gave him the chance to concentrate on some of the best apple pie he'd ever had.

When he finally met the elusive Ma McGee, he'd definitely ask her to make a few extra for him, and –

"– I'm sorry, boss. I – I let you down."

He'd spoken so softly, even quieter than usual – but so unexpectedly that Gibbs still started in surprise.

'Damn it, McGee! This pie's too good for you to make me choke on it!'

Against this light-hearted rebuke, though, there was no hint of humour in Tim McGee's eyes. Instead, Gibbs saw an unnatural lethargy which hadn't been there when he'd faced him in that elevator.

More worryingly still, Gibbs realized he'd seen that lethargy, and the exhaustion beyond it, before.

Just as he'd done after he'd shot John Benedict in that alleyway, Tim McGee was retreating into himself, consumed by his conscience.

He wasn't so far gone now as he'd been then, of course – and Gibbs was determined to keep it that way.

"No you didn't, Tim. You surprised me, maybe, but - no, you didn't let me down," he said at last – taking advantage of the stunned silence that followed to smile, in rare warmth, through what he said next.

"Someone you loved was in trouble. Your sister came to you for help, knowing that you'd keep her safe. And what you did today, Tim, for what you were prepared to do to protect her… no, I'm proud of you."

That fake laryngitis had struck for real this time. Try as he might, Tim McGee just couldn't find his voice

He finally managed a multi-b'd 'bu-' and, to Gibbs quiet amusement, he tried all he could to finish it off. Inevitably, though, his tongue became so tangled that Tim gave up, and fell back into frustrated silence.

Watching surprise, relief and confusion then fight for space across his face, Gibbs felt his smile widen. There were times when this brilliant genius in front of him just couldn't see the wood for the trees. Those two degrees, and all that astonishing brain-power, didn't always let him see the blindingly obvious.

Time, Gibbs dryly decided, to give Timothy McGee, BSc, MA, a fatherly nudge in the right direction.

So aware of anxious green eyes following him, he now rose from his chair and strode over to the mantel. Lifting Shannon and Kelly's photo from its new home there, he paused for a moment, lost in memories.

Tenderly brushing some stray dust from its frame, he then placed it, with due reverence, in Tim's lap – meeting his startled stare of realization with a bittersweet smile as he drove his point quietly home.

"Family, Tim. Nothing in this life is more precious than family."

On the verge of replying, Tim then closed his mouth again until his voice had the chance to catch up – the words that finally came out of it still quiet, still nervously hesitant, but still heartfelt in their meaning.

"I've, um- never said this, boss, I've – I've never known if I should, but… well, I'm sorry, boss. I – I mean, to lose your whole family, it's… well, I – I can't begin to understand what that's like-"

To his surprise, Gibbs smiled, nodding approval as he sat back down beside him and patted his shoulder.

Through a moment of shared healing between them – yes, the boy was finally starting to see those trees. And he knew, from the compassion he saw in Tim's eyes, that he already understood what he said next.

"You won't understand it, Tim, you can't, unless you go through it. And I hope to God you never do-"

His point hadn't exactly been subtle, but Tim McGee knew him well enough by now to quietly accept it – and, to his silent gratitude, offer him a hesitant smile of sympathy for the pain that filled his next words

"There isn't a moment, in the day, Tim, when I don't think about them. And every one of them hurts. I still wonder what might have been if they'd lived, especially if Kelly had survived… try to imagine what she'd be like now-"

"She'd be beautiful. Just like her mom," Tim whispered, more to himself than anyone else – his dismay that Gibbs had heard him giving way to shy relief for the smile that eventually followed.

"Yeah, Tim. Yeah, she would," Gibbs agreed just as softly, giving Tim's shoulder a gentle squeeze – letting his hand rest there, making sure that Tim McGee understood, and fully appreciated, his next point.

"You know, if Kelly had lived, she'd be around Sarah's age now."

Tim's reaction was all he'd hoped for – a startled stare, then a nod of complete, crucial comprehension.

His reply, though – jeez, Gibbs dryly reflected, not even Babe Ruth could have hit a curveball like that.

"Yeah, boss, I figured she would be. I… um, I mean, you're only slightly older than our dad yourself. I think that's why you made such an impression on her, boss. You're… um, well, a – a lot like him-"

Now it was Gibbs' turn to stare. Two Jethro Gibbs in this world? Hell it could barely cope with one!

Judging by the way Tim McGee's mouth was twitching helplessly upwards, he was thinking the same.

It was a priceless moment of levity between them – ended, of course, as only Jethro Gibbs knew how.

*whack*

"Whatever you're thinking, McGee - stop thinking it"

"I'm… um, stopping it now, boss."

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Two in the morning. A time when most sane and sensible people were tucked up sleeping in bed – which explained why Jethro Gibbs was sitting in his den, wide awake, and putting the world to rights

Well, not the whole world, just Tim McGee's small corner of it – and, to his relief, it was working.

Stretched comfortably out in his chair, he was looking much happier now than when he'd arrived – enough for him to quietly venture a question that he wouldn't have dared to ask before now.

"What would you have done, boss? I – I mean, if that had been Kelly, instead of Sarah-"

Thrown by another exquisite left-fielder, Gibbs then felt a proud smile grow, unstoppably, across his face. Damn, he'd have to get this kid onto their softball team. With curveballs like these, they'd be unbeatable.

And if it finally won back their long lost league, and wiped those smirks from Bill Mead and his team – yes, Tim McGee wouldn't just be a hero to his little sister, he'd be a hero to everyone on the day-shift.

More immediately, though, he and his curveball kid had rather more serious matters to resolve – a task made much less daunting, and much more enjoyable, by another wedge of truly irresistible pie.

For such a simple question, though, maybe an inevitable one, Gibbs was finding it damn hard to answer.

It had been asked with a directness, a returned and heartfelt honesty, which he'd silently welcomed. Now, welcoming the frankness he'd seen in Tim McGee's eyes, Gibbs now answered it the same way

"I'd have gone to hell and back, Tim, to protect her. I wouldn't have stopped 'til I knew she was safe-"

He'd smiled as he'd spoken, in real pride for the courage it had taken McGee to ask him that question – not quite convincingly enough, though, to soothe still stubbornly lingering doubt from his conscience.

"But you wouldn't have made the mistake that I did?" Tim said at last, his voice now tellingly quiet – not giving Gibbs the chance to answer as he faced the lapse in judgment which just refused to let him go.

"You'd have told Mike Franks, wouldn't you? Told him the truth. Trusted him enough to let him help you."

Another strike-two curveball, met with the same surprise as the first, before Gibbs smiled in realization – his next words spoken as much in fatherly gentle patience as they were in their more familiar opposite.

"Probably, yes, but… this isn't about a hypothetical decision for me, Tim, it's about a real one for you. And when I told you I'd accepted your apology for it, McGee, you should know that I meant it."

That won him a slight smile as Tim nodded and, just as Gibbs knew he would, doggedly kept to the point

"Yeah, boss, I – I know, but- well, that doesn't change anything. I should have told you."

"…you wanted to, but didn't. I'd guess Sarah had a lot to do with that," Gibbs reminded him – still smiling as he dryly compared the shy and studious McGee against his petulant, rebellious sister.

"I'm guessing that happens a lot between you. She's, uh, not exactly Miss Shy and Retiring, is she?"

"Yeah, even I wonder at times if we're really related," Tim retorted, pulling a suitable face in return. "If I had a dollar from everyone who's asked me if she's really my sister, I could afford to retire tomorrow-"

Beyond their shared, appreciative laughter, there was another deception that now tugged at Tim McGee's conscience – but by the time he emerged from a sudden, unstoppable yawn, he'd completely forgotten what it was.

Besides, he was still struggling, through an increasingly muzzy mind, to defeat its first demon.

"For all that, though, boss, I'm… well, I'm – I'm still sorry I didn't come to you," he said at last – listening, in wide-eyed astonishment, to a quiet admission that he'd never imagined he'd hear.

"We all make mistakes, Tim. It's how we learn not to make them again," Gibbs told him gently – deciding this was as good a time as any, and a time that was long overdue, to confront one of his own.

"Mine was not telling Ducky, one of my oldest friends, about Shannon and Kelly, or how they died. That's something I've had to learn to live with, just as you'll learn to live with what you did today.

And as I've said already, your first duty was to Sarah. You had to protect her, and keep her safe. You're clearly damn good at it, too, so… yeah, Tim, I can understand why you didn't come to me. I may not have approved your methods, or how you went about it, but I can understand your reasons.

You were doing what was best for Sarah. That's why I accepted your apology, Tim. Both then and now-"

It had been quite a lecture. As he'd hoped, Tim McGee had raptly hung onto its every word.

Just to make sure, though, Gibbs let it sink in for a few more moments, then gently drove it gently home

"Tim, your first duty was to keep Sarah safe until you could prove her innocence, and you did that. You've shown to everyone who knows you what family means, that nothing should ever come above it.

And it's brought you closer to Sarah, too. Closer, I think, than either of you have been in a long time. It's cut through all her smart-mouthing attitude, and made her realize what you'd do to protect her.

When I told her you'd resigned because of her, and she started crying- yeah, Tim, I knew she meant it. If she didn't respect you before, at least to openly admit it… hell, she'll sure respect you now-"

That won him a faint smile, and an intriguingly red face, as Tim sighed and ruefully went on to explain it.

"Yeah, boss, I know. Yeah, she… um, made that pretty clear when I, uh… left her back at Waverly."

He'd hoped, against all others, that Gibbs would let it rest there. He really should have known better. And any temptation he might have had for gently editing the truth died before it could even strike him.

After today, he sourly reminded himself, I'm kinda maxed out on the whole lying and deception thing.

Prompted by a raised eyebrow that he could never defy, Tim then sighed, resigning himself to his fate

"Her new room-mate, boss. She, um, didn't realize I was her brother, and… um, well, she- uh…"

"-made a pass at you?" Gibbs finished for him through an astonishingly straight, deadpan face – that Marine-honed restraint tested, to its absolute limit, by what McGee sheepishly stammered out next

"Well, no, boss, not exactly, but… uh… she – she did think I was sweet, and, um… k-kinda hunky-"

Sweet and hunky, hell! Damn it, this baby faced assassin was just determined to bump him off.

Or maybe he'd been hanging around Abby too much, allowing her to tempt him over to the dark side – because only she could come up with something so inventively hinky as death by sweet Timmy McGee.

Still spluttering, Gibbs cast that assassin as serious a glance as a still suspiciously twitchy mouth allowed.

"And what did your little sister say to that?"

From the time he'd spent with her, Gibbs had already guessed what Sarah McGee's response had been. But for entertainment value alone, it was still pricelessly worth watching her brother struggle to repeat it.

And while that coffee mug still shielded Tim McGee's face, it wasn't big enough to hide its colour – a blush of embarrassment that steadily deepened as Tim sighed, and ruefully surrendered to the inevitable

"You mean after she'd laughed herself sick?"

Some sympathy would have been nice, or maybe more of that new understanding between them, but – well, not even he was naïve enough to believe that Jethro Gibbs would show him much of either.

The laughter that followed instead sounded so good, though, that Tim now cautiously joined in too. As he did so, he could feel more of the day's crushing, draining tension begin to lift from his shoulders.

To an exhausted body, this easy chair was so soft, and cosy, and comfy. Really, really, comfy.

Settling himself more snugly into it, Tim then yawned through a sudden, unstoppable wave of tiredness. His eyelids were so heavy now, and Gibbs' voice was sounding increasingly further away from him.

"Well, McGee, that's a little sister's right - to make life hell for their big brother, however big he is. Sarah's the only person in the world who can do that, and know she'll nearly always get away with it.

But she still respects you, Tim. Even if you didn't notice it, I saw that respect several times today. When you were working on that food-court tape, and when you arrested Madison in front of her - yeah, McGee, I think she finally realized what a crucial job you do, and how damn good you are at it.

And whatever happens between you, Tim, however much you do argue, and fall out with each other… yeah, you've both proven today, that'll never break the bond between you, and… McGee? McGee!"

Normally, of course, that bark of his name would bring a startled yelp of tongue-tied apology, but – no, for just this one time, Tim McGee stayed still and silent, answering it instead with a muffled snore.

Pillowing his head against his arm, he wasn't just sleeping either. He was completely out for the count. Not even a subtle hand-waft of coffee, or Gibbs' softly dry follow-up, came close to waking him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, hunky agent McGee. Am I boring you?"

Answered by a rising crescendo that could put a whole platoon of Marines to shame, Gibbs then sighed.

His eyesight was lousy, of course, and it was just his mischievous mind playing tricks on him, but – damn, he'd still swear he'd just seen the curtains beside him swing towards Tim McGee's gaping mouth.

Torn between pinching it shut to make him stop, and helpless laughter, Gibbs finally settled for the latter.

Okay, so he'd missed the main pep talk that he'd come all this way to hear in the first place, but – well, Gibbs knew he could give Tim McGee that same talk tomorrow, when he could fully appreciate it

Right now, oblivious to everything around him, he'd found a different, equally crucial peace of mind. In a place of safety, with someone he completely trusted, he'd finally relaxed enough to let himself sleep.

Draping his coat over Tim's shoulders, Gibbs watched him for a moment, just enjoying its precious rarity.

He could never show it openly, of course, but - no, along with Tony, this boy was the son he'd never had.

A son he'd be proud to have, too, Gibbs reflected, however many mistakes and misjudgments he made – a hand that so often whacked it in exasperation settling instead, with fatherly gentleness, onto Tim's head.

He wasn't entirely out of the woods yet, of course. 'Tommy' and 'Lisa' would both wickedly see to that.

For now, though, Tim McGee could soundly enjoy the sleep of the just, and – oh, for crying out loud!

"McGee?"

"Mmm… nnggg… wh… mmmm… b'ss-?"

"For the love of God, my ears, and my neighbours… shut up!!"