Shards To A Whole: Chapter 198

McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.


Chapter 198: In The End

In the movies, the story ends when the character dies. That's just how it is.

Or maybe it keeps going, but there's just sadness and some sort of epiphany of the value of life and holding your dear ones close for as long as you can.

And that's true.

Jackson's story is done.

Jethro, Leroy as his dad called him, has been holding his loves close these last two days, literally as well as figuratively. He's spent more time snuggled up to something warm and female then any time since his first marriage.

And it helps, some.

But mostly, now, as the funeral is over, and he's more or less beating his kids back into their cars to get them to go back to DC, there's just this huge pile of stuff.

Literal stuff.

A lifetime of stuff.

Sitting in a house.

And it's his job to deal with it.

Puppy dog eyes

Abby and Tim are giving him puppy-dog eyes, offering to stay and help. Tony and Ziva are being cooler about it, but pretty much because they know they aren't cute enough to pull off puppy dog eyes, but just as insistent. Ducky has declared he's staying and helping. The only ones he's not having any problems with are Jimmy and Breena, namely because an open-ended trip with a seventeen-month-old isn't much fun, and for Ducky to stay, Jimmy needs to get his butt back to DC and handle Autopsy.

"Really, Jethro, I can stay—" Tim's saying as he's putting their bags into the back of Palmer's van,

"Maybe I wasn't clear enough the first three times, I do not want Abby a minute farther away from her OB than absolutely necessary. I don't want you five hundred miles away from her, either. And I don't want either of you wasting your off time with me. You're gonna have better things to do with your personal days than help me sort things very soon. Go home. I'll be fine."

"You sure?"

Lessons in cute?

He's staring at Gibbs with big, worried eyes, and Gibbs is wondering if he's been taking lessons in cute from Abby. "Go home."

Tim nodded, hugged Jethro for a long time, and then handed him over to Abby, who'd been pouting at him through that whole conversation. She squeezed him tight.

"You call us. You need anything, you call. Even if not to talk. You don't have to talk. Just to see a friendly face on the other side of the Skype. You call."

Gibbs nodded and kissed her forehead and then firmly guided her into the Odyssey. He shut the door and said to Jimmy, who had his window open, "Get them out of here before they change their minds and I have to shoot them with tranquilizers to get them back into this van."

Jimmy saluted Gibbs and pulled away.

He felt Tony behind him, in the few seconds before he said, "We've got personal days and vacation days, and don't need to be near a doctor."

"I know, Tony. Go home. You're basically still on your honeymoon."

"Are you certain?" Ziva asked.

"I'm sure. There's nothing in this house Duck and I can't handle. I'll be back in a week or so."

Tony claps a hand on Gibbs' shoulder. "Like Abby said, you need anything, call. We're six hours away, faster if we use flashers."

"I'll be okay."

"I know." Tony hugged him.

Ziva cuddled in as well, reaching up to kiss him. "You will be. You really will."

He rests his head against her dark hair, aware of how, out of all of his kids, this is the one most similar to him, the one carrying many of the same burdens. He kisses the top of her head. Eli David died less than three years ago, and he's sure the memory of doing this, alone, is still very fresh for her.

"We should have gone with you."

She smiled at him and shook her head, understanding what he meant by that. "No. Not then. But never again will any of us mourn alone."

He knows that's true. Driving up on his own, not telling anyone, that was shock forcing him back into the patterns of old. He spent so many years on his own, the idea that there were people who would worry, who would travel five hundred miles just to sit with him, didn't occur to him.

And he didn't know how relieved he would be, how a flash of love and gratitude would spread through him when he heard the sound of a car pulling up, three doors opening and closing, and opened the door to see Ziva, Tony, and Ducky on his father's porch, and to be immediately wrapped in Ziva's arms.

He nodded and kissed her one more time, holding both of them tight, then let go. "I'll call if I need anything."

"Good," Ziva said as they headed to her car.

He watched them drive off, waving, and then walked to the front porch, sitting down on the steps. A moment later Ducky sat down next to him, handing him a cup of tea.

"Where shall we start, Jethro?"

Gibbs put the cup on the step next to him and rubbed his eyes. "I don't know, Duck, I don't know."

They started in the basement. Three piles: donate, toss, keep.

There aren't many things here he wants to keep. The last eight years were better, but this house isn't a bastion of good memories for him.

Ducky kept up a gentle stream of chatter. Mostly talking to himself. Gibbs is only half-listening, but he finds the sound of it comforting.

But it hits him, as he boxes up his dad's dishes, that there will be a day when Ducky's voice goes silent. That one day, he, and he assumes, Tim, will do this for Ducky and Penny, and he has to sit down for a minute to keep from bursting into tears. Ducky sees it, quiets, and just rests his hands on Jethro's shoulders.

He kept the Monopoly game. An old but well-loved baseball glove. Someone'll need to teach those girls how to play catch, and he's not feeling overwhelmingly optimistic on Tim or Jimmy's skills when it comes to that. Two end tables Jackson made, and his dad's tools. Gibbs doesn't have any use for Jackson's tools, his father was a mechanic first and then moved into electronics, but best he can tell, Tim might find them useful.

He kept a bundle of letters. They belonged to his parents. He hasn't read them. Won't read them. Before they head back to DC, he takes a few minutes and buries them with his parents.

He kept his dad's computers. Somewhere in there is his accounts, and he needs that information to handle the business. So they've got to go back to DC, where Tim'll sort through them and find what he needs to take care of the store.

And the rest of it got boxed up and given to Goodwill or tossed in a dumpster.

It took three days to empty the house.

In the store with family.

He's not even sure what to do with the general store. He knows his dad owns the building, but it's got to have bills and suppliers and all sorts of things, but he doesn't know what they are. Back when he was a kid, Jackson had tried to get him interested in running the store, but even if they had gotten on back then, he still would have found it painfully boring.

Fortunately the lawyer seems to have an idea of what to do with that, because he doesn't.

It took six days, but when he was done, the house was empty, and up for sale, the store was closed, and also up for sale. He loaded the few things he was keeping into his car, waited for Ducky to get his seat belt buckled and started back to DC.

"Thanks, Duck."

Ducky nodded. "When Mother died, I wanted the quiet of our home to grieve in. Her last few weeks had been so loud and traumatic…" Victoria Mallard lived to 101, which was about five years longer than she should have. That last month, when she was conscious she was out of her head, delirious from the Alzheimer's, often screaming, raging at imagined insults, or drugged into an almost comatose slumber. The Corgis, all six of them, upset at the strangers, hospice workers who had descended on the house to help him, spent hours barking. Nothing about their home was quiet those last few weeks. "That I wanted nothing more than quiet. But I think now that sharing it with a dear friend would have been a good thing."

"Yeah."

As they pulled out of Stillwater, it occurs to Gibbs that this really is the last time he'll come here. This chapter of his life is really over, and all that's left is memory.

Next

Shards To A Whole: Chapter 179

McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.


Chapter 179: The Dive

Two quarters of a game to cool down, get their minds off of Tony's past, and relax back into the idea that this is supposed to be fun, and that there's nothing he can do about the man he used to be was a good thing.

And it was a good game. The Buckeyes were evenly matched with UNC, so the game stayed close the whole time, keeping the four of them interested.

And when Ohio State won it with a three pointer that whispered through the hoop less than half a second before the buzzer, they were all shouting (Tony jumping up and down) with excitement.

Late night drinks and barbecue went very well with basketball.

Honestly, it looked like a dive. It's the dive-y-ist dive Tim's ever seen. A ramshackle, beat the hell up, the only reason the health inspector hasn't closed it down is they spend more money bribing him then they do on décor shack of a place. He's honestly nervous about bringing them here, let alone eating anything.

But it also came up over and over again on the list of barbecue joints you absolutely had to go to if you were anywhere near Chapel Hill.

And it smells like absolute heaven.

And they are men, engaging in a sacred male ritual, and sacred male rituals need meat that has been cooked over fire.

And since Tony is convinced that barbecue is hot dogs and burgers on the grill, Tim is considering it his duty, as both his friend and best man, to make sure he gets introduced to the joy that is spice rubbed slow cooked pork.

So it's late. They're in a dive. But the beer is cold and delicious, and the pulled pork and ribs are come-in-your-pants good. Tim loves food. He really does. But this is the first time he's ever honestly considered food to be almost orgasmic experience, and he's also very glad that this place is eight hours from home, because otherwise he'd be 210 again in about six weeks.

Tony is sucking the rib bones it's so good. (He'd tried to follow the rules. He started with the chicken, and that was awfully tasty, but he saw Gibbs' ribs and decided that God would probably forgive him some decadence for his bachelor party. Especially since there were no strippers involved.)

Gibbs, who usually isn't a big eater, has ordered seconds and thirds.

And it's not that Jimmy can't eat sugar, it's just that he has to adjust his insulin levels to do so, and thus usually avoids sugar so he doesn't have to inject himself. But he was happily gnawing away, telling them that this was totally worth the shot.

And, as in the past, when a certain amount of beer has been consumed and the girls aren't around, the conversation turned to sex.

Tony's looking at Gibbs and finally says, "So… not until your wedding? Really? Just, twenty years, seems like a really long time."

Gibbs just shrugs. He was eighteen when he met Shannon, and while it's true he was ambivalent on the yes sex or no sex before marriage issue (He's Christian and his church had been pretty clear about the only with your wife thing, but he was also eighteen, so having sex was something he was deeply interested in.) Shannon wasn't, and once he met her, the idea of doing it with someone else just made him sad.

They wait another beat, but Gibbs doesn't say anything, just eats more of his rib.

Then Jimmy elbows Tony and says, "You can't miss what you've never had. You want to talk about a long time, Breena made me wait until we got married. So, at thirty-two, long after I had thought I was done with terminal blue balls, I was back to being bestest friends with my right hand. That was hard."

"I think you mean you were hard," Tim says.

"That, too." Jimmy smirks and takes a drink. "Anyway, waiting until you get married when you get married before you're even old enough to drink, please."

"Drinking age was eighteen then."

Jimmy flashes Gibbs a you're missing the point look. "Great. Still, no sex to lots of sex, easy. Somewhat regular sex, start dating the hottest, most desirable woman on earth, and knowing exactly how good it's going to be and what you're missing, and because she's evil, making out with her on a regular basis but not having sex, that's har—difficult."

Tony's laughing at that. "I didn't think she was that religious."

"She was deeply religious, but that wasn't why she made us wait. Our first date she said to me, 'I've known a lot of guys over the years, and one thing I've noticed about all of you is that you're pretty possessive and you like to know that when something is yours it's really yours.' So I nodded at that, because, well, yeah, that's true. So she says, 'Look, I love guys. I love the way they feel and smell and look and touch me. I love kissing and making out and rubbing up against them, but I'm a virgin. I'm not having sex with any guy until I get married. That's my wedding present to my future husband. He'll know, absolutely, that I'm his and only his. And when that ring's on my finger I'm going to absolutely rock his world.' And she just smiled at me, and wrapped her lips around the straw in her drink, took a sip and finished up with, 'If that's not something you respect, well, this was fun. If it's something you do, then I'd like to see you again.'"

"What did you say to that?" Tim asks, smiling.

"You mean once some of the blood got back to my brain and I could form words?"

Tim nods.

"Marry me."

All three of them laugh at that.

"Then she said, 'How about we go on a second date first?' And we did, and it was the longest most sexually frustrated two years of my life. And then because God hates me, Dearing blew up NCIS on my wedding day, and since I'm a decent guy who wanted her to have a good time, too, we waited another week, until I was able to crawl out from under the mile-high stack of paperwork I had to deal with, get enough sleep so I could keep going for more than two minutes, and take the time to do it right."

"It was worth it," Gibbs says, sharing a look with Jimmy, one that understands what waiting for something you desire above everything else and then finally getting it is like.

"Oh yeah." He grins and shakes his head in wonder. "And, yeah, there's a real kick to knowing she's only been with me. It's stupid, because we aren't supposed to feel that way, but… I do. I'm the only guy who's gotten to see her naked. Only one who's ever enjoyed her body. And she was dead right, that was one hell of a wedding present."

Gibbs nods at that, too, agreeing. "It was expected when we got married. You'd be her one and only. And yeah, maybe you fooled around before you got married, but she didn't, or if she did, it was with you. And you didn't feel bad about liking it. Didn't feel like there was something wrong with you if you got a kick out of letting her learn what to do with a guy on you. Didn't feel like it was wrong to say she was yours. Bunch of guys were jerks about it, and that wrecked it for the rest of us, but we all feel it. Hell," he tips his head at Tim and Tony, "those two feel it, even if it's not quite the same."

Tim nods along with that, swallowing his beer and putting the glass down. "Certainly got a kick out of everything I've done with her that no other guy has."

"What have you done with Abby that no other guy has?" Tony asks, rib paused midway to his mouth. Sure, he knows that Tim's not vanilla about sex, but he's also fairly sure that if Tim's ever imagined it, then Abby's done it.

Tim smiles wide and fairly dirty. "Got her pregnant among other things, and 'other things' is all you get to know about that."

Tony, Jimmy, and Gibbs laugh.

"And there's definitely a thrill to everything I've done with her and no one else. It works both ways."

Gibbs smiles at that, eyes the waitress, looking like he might be thinking about fourths, but decides against it. "Yeah, it does."

Link

Jimmy's phone buzzes. He reaches for it, taps the screen, and smiles. "Speaking of the girls who make our lives worthwhile. Breena just sent me these." He turned the screen so they could all see. The first shot was Abby and Ziva, looking like they were taking a break from dancing. The next was Breena with Ziva, putting a little sparkly tiara on her head. There was a dim, grainy shot of all three of them dancing together.

Tim's looking at them, and says, "So it looks like a good time and minor hearing damage has been had by all."

"Yes."

"So, they home, or just taking a break?" Tony asks.

Jimmy flashes a quick text to Breena and thirty seconds later says, "Home. The pregnant matron of honor needed some sleep."

Tim checks his watch; it's 12:48. "She's going to be pissed about that. She hates how tired she is these days."

Tony notices that their waitress is sort of glaring at them. "I think we're overstaying our welcome."

So they settled up and headed to their hotel.

Next

Shards To A Whole: Chapter 178

McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.


Chapter 178: Gear Up

"McGee, DiNozzo, gear up. Dead Marine out of Chapel Hill," Gibbs says as he puts his phone down.

"Gibbs?" Ziva asks, perfect inflection of why aren't you bringing me along in her voice.

"Gonna be at least overnight, and I need someone here to keep an eye on things."

Tim glances over and sees Tony grabbing his go bag looking mildly pouty. He's been talking all day and all yesterday about how Ohio State is playing tonight and he can't wait to see it. Stuck in a crappy motel room dealing with a murder is not the way he wants to see that game.

When it hits him that Ziva's not coming, mildly pouty switched to downright unhappy.

"Boss," Tim says, hoping he sounds convincingly whiny. Ziva had gotten her part right, he's got to do his.

"One night alone won't kill her, Tim. Ziva's here, and so is Palmer. She'll be fine."

"But…"

"Head down, say goodbye, and we'll meet you at the van."

He glares a little at Gibbs before grabbing his go bag and heading down to the lab.

Abby sees him and bursts into a huge grin. "Does Tony have any idea?"

"None." The smile that's been trying to break out since Gibbs' phone rang (Palmer calling to let him know he was on the road.) spreads across his face. "We pulled it off perfectly. Utterly clueless. He's silently pouting about missing the game and sleeping alone." He steps in close and kisses her. "Are you going to be okay on your own?"

"Are you kidding? Ziva, Breena, and I have a fabulous night planned. It's going to be an absolute blast. There's a new gay club out on 10th and we are going to dance until our feet won't hold us up anymore. You guys go, have fun. See you tomorrow."

He kisses her again, slow and deep. "Tomorrow."

They were driving past UNC's stadium. Tony eyeing it longingly as Gibbs drove. "This is so wrong. I'm supposed to be at home, with Ziva, watching this game in high def on a sixty inch screen. Cold beer in one hand, Ohio State t-shirt on, cheering my guys to victory. Of all the bad times to get murdered. Where is this guy supposed to be?"

"Tony, check your go bag."

"McGee?" He stopped gazing at the stadium and flashed Tim his annoyed and confused look.

"Just do it."

Tony did, and his eyebrows drew together. He always keeps a change of clothing in there, they all do, that's the point of a go bag, but his has… "My Ohio State shirt?"

"See an envelope in there?" Tim asks as Gibbs pulls into the UNC stadium parking lot.

Tony dug around for a minute longer, and Tim started to get a little nervous, getting everything packed was Ziva's job, and he didn't get a chance to double check and make sure everything was in there the way it was supposed to be.

But Tony came up with it after a minute and looked inside.

For another minute, as Gibbs parked, Tony just stared at the tickets, eyes wide and disbelieving. Finally he looked up at them and said, "Four court side seats?"

"Jimmy's waiting for us at the gate." Tim smirked at him. "Still think you don't want Jimmy or I planning your bachelor party?"

Tony looked back down at the tickets in his hand. When Ohio State made it to the final eight and got slotted into the UNC stadium, he had tried to get tickets, and they were completely sold out. "How did you get tickets to this?"

"Remember, I've got that cousin, and he knew a guy, and… I don't pay attention to basketball, but Jimmy noticed Ohio State made March Madness this year, so we put this plan into action."

Tony turned to Gibbs. "You knew?"

His expression said, of course. "You didn't think they'd take you out to a strip club and buy you lap dances, did you?"

"Well, no. That's why I didn't want them planning this."

"You'd rather be watching strippers?" Tim asked. He'd been hoping Tony'd like this.

That jerked Tony out of his shock. "No. I mean, this is beyond awesome." And Tim can see that's genuine. He just hadn't been expecting anything even remotely like this and it was taking him a minute to get his head out of pouting mode into celebrate mode. "I just… Jimmy came up with this?"

"Yeah, so let's get him so you can say thanks, and then watch this thing."

"McGee, do you even know enough about basketball to follow a game?" And that sounded a whole lot more like normal Tony.

"It's soccer with hoops. I'll do okay."

Link

"Soccer with hoops?" Tony looked appalled and launched into a detailed exposition on the finer arts of basketball while stripping out of his work clothing into his fan clothing. He had half-noticed that Tim and Gibbs had both been a little more casual than usual for work clothing today, but not so much so that it was worth mentioning.

They found Jimmy a few minutes later, looking fairly relaxed, tucking his cell back into his pocket.

Tony smiled at him and said, "Tim tells me this was your idea?"

"Breena's really."

Tony nodded in appreciation of Breena. "You have the coolest wife ever."

"I agree."

"McGeek thinks this is soccer with hoops. Do you need a primer on basketball, too?"

Jimmy looked at Tim like he's a twit. "Soccer with hoops?"

Tim shrugged. "Eleven guys, start in the middle, run to the end, get the ball into the target, don't tackle each other, don't pick the ball up and carry it. Soccer with hoops."

Jimmy sighed and shook his head. "Lord, someone messed up your education. I played in junior high. I wasn't good or anything, but I at least know it's not soccer."

"Good." Tony said with a very wide and happy grin.

By conservative estimate there are nineteen million people in that stadium and they are all rabid UNC supporters. Home team at the home stadium and they are going bonkers.

To say they've gotten a few dirty looks, and some choice verbiage as they head to their seats due to Tony's shirt is an understatement.

But they are courtside, and luck had it they are on the Ohio State side of the court.

They get settled, comfortable, beer and dogs in hand, and are watching the pre-game show when the Ohio State Coach turns around to talk to one of the players and notices them.

"Tony DiNozzo?"

"Mark Ratham?"

Mark came forward and wrapped him in a back slapping hug. "What are you doing here, man?"

"Watching the game." He pulled back from Mark holding his shoulders. "Are you coaching?"

"Yeah, Bob Gilman got hit by a car last night, so I'm up."

Tony looked worried at that. Anything this close to a big game can mess with the cohesion of the team and that's a very bad thing. "Is the team going to be okay?"

"Oh, yeah, he'll be fine, so they'll be fine, but they want to keep him under 'observation' for twenty four hours. Those bastards at the hospital are UNC supporters."

"Oh." Tony nodded along. "Guy driving a UNC supporter, too?"

"Can't prove it, but I wouldn't doubt it. Look, game's starting in five, but if you want me to introduce you at halftime to the team, I'd be happy to."

"That'd be great."

Tim, Jimmy, and Gibbs are all giving him the fill us in look.

"Mark was my roommate sophomore and junior year. Seniors got singles in our house, so we split up then, but… yeah… a lot of my better college memories involve him. Wow. Haven't seen him in... twenty years."

"Spring break in Mexico?" Tim asked.

"Yeah. He got married and stopped coming. He was assistant coach for… I don't remember, some little school in corn country. Looks like he's moved up in the world."

Tim's, of course, heard all about Tony's college exploits. Everyone has. He'll talk your ear off about them. Though Tim has noticed the focus on what Tony did in college has shifted over the years. When he first started NCIS, he heard a lot more about partying and girls, and these days he hears a lot more about basketball.

Actually, these days, he hasn't heard a whole lot about Ohio State, period. It's probably been four years since Tony's brought it up, though he'll mention it when they're talking college type stuff.

Still, there's hearing the stories, which, Tim had figured were about two-thirds bullshit, and then there's seeing the guys on the team stare at Tony like he's some sort of mythological figure stepping out of the book and shaking their hands.

Twenty college kids are looking at Tony like he's some sort of God. One they pray to regularly.

And Tony is basking in it.

"Haven't seen you in forever, what are you doing these days?" Mark asks after introducing Tony around.

"Believe it or not, I'm a cop."

"You're a what?" Mark looks like he'd more readily believe Tony was a woman than a cop.

"Work for the Navy. I investigate crimes involving Navy or Marine personnel."

"You became a cop? Tony 'let me see how many laws I can break per night' DiNozzo became a cop?" Mark's laughing like this is the best joke ever.

"Not that many!" Tony's looking a little embarrassed.

"Dude, you didn't turn twenty-one until the end of your junior year, and good two-thirds of those girls were under eighteen." A little embarrassed had morphed to distinctly uncomfortable. Gibbs' eyes narrowed a little, and Jimmy crossed his arms. And Tim is suddenly understanding that there is a very big difference between having a daughter, and possibly having a daughter. Because while he definitely considers fooling around with underage girls a problem, he doesn't appear to be having the same sort of visceral reaction Gibbs and Jimmy are.

"So who are your buddies?" Mark asks, finally noticing there are three other guys here and two of them don't look even remotely happy about him.

Tim grinned. But there's no warmth there, and anyone who knows him knows that's not a friendly gesture, and he's kind of hoping Mark takes the hint to pull back after this. "Two more cops," he gestured at himself and Gibbs. "A medical examiner." Pointed to Jimmy. "And, oh" here he pointed back at Gibbs. "His father-in-law."

"You're married? You gonna tell me you've got the house, the dog, and the white picket fence next?"

"Not that far along yet, it's my bachelor party. Last I heard, you were married, too."

"Married didn't work out. At all. And, not that we aren't happy to see you here, but this is a lame-ass bachelor party. Hell, bachelor party is the best part of getting married. A bachelor party is the reason to get married! I was still drunk at the reception from mine… and the girls!"

Tim was deciding that Mark was the kind of guy he hated in high school, and fortunately didn't see much of in college. Tim can also see Tony's trying to figure out how to get out of this. There's only a few minutes more of halftime, and then they can get back to watching the game, hopefully without this clod hanging onto them.

"I'm having a great time."

"Oh." There's pity on Mark's face, and he's got a very clear expression of you're so whipped. "You want to come with us after the game? Turn this into a real bachelor party? There'll be pretty little girls begging for attention and booze galore. And I'm sure the boys would love to see you in action."

"Not my thing anymore." Tony flashed his patented DiNozzo charm smile and had stepped back from Mark.

Mark said, "Come on man, your pic, the one with the six girls and the beer bong, is still up on the wall of fame at our frat house." Mark turned toward the Tim, Jimmy, and Gibbs. "This here is the only man who made the wall of fame every single semester he was at Ohio State. There's still a little shrine to him at the Alpha Chi Delta frat house. So, come on, relive the glory days with the team? You're a hero, well, a myth, to these kids."

Tony sighed. "Mark, you see these three guys? They love my fiancée, almost as much as I do, and if I fool around on her, they will kill me and lose my body somewhere between here and home."

Tim and Jimmy are nodding and Gibbs is just coolly staring at Mark, very clearly signaling Get the hell out of here before I arrest you for statutory rape, and probably shoot you for resisting arrest along the way.

"Two-thirds of them under eighteen?" Gibbs asks Tony quietly, as Mark backs away from that stare and returns to his team.

The look on Gibbs' face is terrifying, so Tony answers honestly, "Yeah." Jimmy looks ready to hit Tony, too. "It was the '80s. We lived in a party frat. Girls are what make the party fun. ID checks were shaky at best back then, and we were famous for never, ever doing it. As long as you were cute enough that the guy at the door liked you, you got in. And Bob never saw a girl he didn't like. And we were all drunk, too. And when you're nineteen the idea that fourteen or fifteen is too young is silly because you still remember being fourteen and all you wanted to do then was get laid, and she's there, rubbing up against you, kissing you, tight and tiny little skirt, low cut top, clearly she knew what she was doing, so why not make some sweet young thing's night?"

Gibbs looks at Jimmy and Tim, letting them know they were about to see a practical application of instilling the Fear of Dad in someone, and then says, "You're gonna have girls. And so are they. Daughters and nieces, and they will be the light of your life, and you will love them more than you can even imagine, and assholes like the guy you used to be are going to be chasing after them. I hope you get an ulcer from worrying about them for each and every single one of those little girls you fucked!"

Tim's heard Gibbs swear before, he's fairly sure Tony has, too, but not sure about Jimmy. But, it's one thing to say fuck and mean I am irritated by the current set of circumstances and want something to express that and a whole other thing to say it and mean I am thirty seconds away from smacking the living hell out of you and the only reason I don't is because I know the man you are is not the man you use to be but so help me God if it ever looks like you are going to revert back to that guy I will kick your ass so hard you will limp for the rest of your very short life.

And Tim is deeply, sincerely, fervently glad that he's never had Gibbs that pissed at him, and that he's never done anything that will ever get Gibbs that pissed at him.

"Oh shit oh shit oh shit!"

Tony looks really disturbed and tries to laugh that off. "Come on, you were a Marine, you must have—"

"Stayed a virgin until my wedding night, when we were both twenty? Yeah, I did. And those two weren't fucking any little girls, either."

Tony's a little irked by that. He's fairly certain Tim or Jimmy would have happily slept with a fifteen or sixteen-year-old when they were nineteen if there had been one available. "Those two weren't fucking anyone period."

"Hey! I had a steady girlfriend junior and senior year of high school, and two more in college," Jimmy says. Tim cringes at that, now really wasn't a good time for Jimmy to forget his mental filter.

"Your high school sweetie, was she twelve?" Gibbs asks, eyes on Tony, very intense expression of pissed off not wavering. He's not looking at Jimmy at all.

"What? No!" Jimmy's utterly horrified by that idea.

"You love her?"

"Yeah."

"You go to her house, look her dad in the eye when you talked to him, and treat his daughter with respect?"

"Yes."

He glanced at Jimmy for a second, face relaxing a little. "Then we don't have a problem." Then he turned back to Tony, eyes hot and angry. "You do any of those things, Tony?"

"No."

"You get their names?"

"Some of them."

Gibbs looks disgusted as he says, "You at least make sure they had a good time?"

"Too drunk and too full of myself to ever think they might need more than me just being there."

Gibbs eyes narrowed even further, and Tim can see the muscles in his jaws clenching. "You treated them like blow up dolls and jerked off in them, probably hurt at least a few of them doing it."

Tony nods.

"Get 'em sick?"

"Some of them gave me gonorrhea, crabs, and the clap, and, yeah, I passed them on as well."

"Get 'em pregnant?"

"No one ever showed up with a kid that looked like me, but I know for a fact that I'm not shooting blanks, so I can't believe that I didn't get at least a few of them pregnant."

"Did they say yes?" Gibbs' voice is very low, very dangerous when he says this, and Tim is really hoping that if the truth to that is no, that Tony has the good sense to lie and lie more convincingly than he's ever lied before.

"None of them was ever unconscious or said no. But a lot of them were very drunk."

"Barely walk on their own, don't remember anything in the morning drunk?"

"Yeah."

"So yes, that's a problem."

"I know." And Tim thinks he really does, thinks that's why there haven't been any tales of the DiNozzo Party Machine in years.

"Good! And if need be, we are beating the idea that this is a problem with a two by four into any sons you, or they, may have."

"Yes, sir."

Gibbs looked satisfied that he had properly instilled the Fear of Dad into Tony and nodded. Then sat down in his seat, and looked in the direction of the now wrapping up half-time show.

A/N: So, no this chapter wasn't just a let's hate on Tony fest. I did want to do something to showcase exactly how far he's come from the DiNozzo Party Machine days. The man who was still going to Spring Break in Mexico at the age of thirty-five, land of the very-drunk and possibly underage girls is dead, and someone a whole lot better has replaced him. I wanted to take a second and look at the path he didn't take, and who he could have ended up. And to some degree, I wanted to touch on how the next generation of DiNozzos are going to be different from the previous two.

Next

Shards To A Whole: Chapter 176

McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.

Chapter 176: You're A Dad

"Did you get the results?" Tim asked Jimmy on Tuesday at lunch.

Tim knows the answer is yes. He can see it by the way Jimmy hasn't checked his cell, and the fact that he looks a lot more relaxed. Not necessarily happier, but more at peace, so the results on the genetic testing for the Trisomy 13 gene must have come back.

"Neither of us." He stabs a bite of his chicken breast. "It was just bad damn luck. If we want to do IVF and have the embryos screened ahead of time, we can, but since neither of us are carriers the chance of it happening again isn't any higher than it was the first time."

"So…"

Jimmy shakes his head. "No. We're not going to do that."

"Just gonna close your eyes and jump off the cliff again?"

"Hoping and praying for a soft landing the entire way down? Yeah."

"You sure…" Tim's not sure how to say this delicately, so he goes for blunt as hell, "if it's a money thing… I mean, I know our insurance won't cover that… Abby and I could help." He and Abby talked about, so he knows she's okay with it. It's not the sort of thing he'd just whip out on a whim.

Jimmy just blinks at him. "Uh… wow! That's just… Do you have any idea what that sort of thing costs?"

"Yeah. Which is why I brought it up."

Jimmy's looking at him in confusion. "How would you even know that?"

"When something scary happens to me or anyone I love, I research the hell out of it."

"Oh."

"So… ummm… yeah…"

"It's not a money thing. It's a… Neither of us wants to make babies by me jerking off into a cup while pumping her full of hormones to bolster egg production and then suck them out, mix in a pitri dish, let them grow a little, test them, and then put them back in. I mean…" He pokes at his food some more, gathering his thoughts. "It's supposed to feel good. It's supposed to be about joy and love and ecstasy… Making them is the fun part…" Jimmy shakes his head dismissively at that. "Making them is a fun part. Making them is supposed to feel as good as having them, and since it won't really change things, we're not willing to give that up, let alone go broke doing it."

Tim nods. He's not entirely certain how to reply to that. He gets what Jimmy is saying, and completely agrees with it, but "Good luck" seems flip and hollow, "I hope it works out" seems lame, but he does want to say something.

Finally he comes up with, "I can't wait to meet Molly's little brother or sister."

"You and me both."

"You going to start trying again right away?"

"Oh yeah. Tossed the condoms out last night. With any luck it'll be a really exciting Christmas at our house this year."

"I really hope so."

"Me, too." Jimmy took another bite of his grilled chicken salad. "Abby said you had news, too."

"Yeah. Don't want this getting around work, though." Which was probably half of why Abby decided he and Jimmy needed to have lunch out today and set it up. "When Jenner in Cybercrime gives his notice, I'll take his place."

Link

Jimmy smiles at that. "Department head by forty, who knew you were so ambitious?"

"Yeah. Well, assuming Jenner doesn't decide to stick around forever. Scuttlebutt has it he's been job hunting, though."

"You don't exactly look ecstatic."

"Don't get me wrong, I'm happy, but… the badge and the gun and running down bad guys… That's a really big part of who I am. I'm a cop."

Jimmy nods, getting that. "You're a dad."

"Yeah, and husband, and that comes first, and this is necessary to put that first. I can track cybercrime from home. I can sort financials, and hunt down the bad guys with my computer while Ke—McSciuto—"

"Ke—McSciuto?"

"That family name we haven't been telling anyone about."

"Yeah, Tim, I hate to break this to you, but all of your friends are cops, and even if they weren't, they aren't idiots. Absolutely no one hasn't figured out your mystery 'family name' is Kelly."

Tim sighs a little, rolls his eyes a little, and takes a bite of his flounder. "We're still going to wait to see if she's actually a girl, and then ask Jethro to make sure it's cool with him."

Jimmy nod and smiles. "You know, for a guy who'll wear a skirt and eyeliner to Shabbos, you're shockingly conservative about some things."

"I only did the eyeliner once." Which is true. Penny was at last Friday's Shabbos and… he's fairly sure it was fall out from rethinking everything that happened with his Dad, but he went all out on the Goth version of himself. Penny just looked at him when he and Abby came in, smiled, kissed his cheek, and asked what brand of eyeliner he liked, listened to his answer, and then acted like him in makeup was no big deal at all.

That had actually felt insanely good.

"I know."

"Just wanted to freak Tony out and let Penny see what it looked like."

"And you did a fine job of both of them. Last I heard, he was muttering about instituting a dress code, and had told me that if you try to wear makeup to his wedding that I'm to wrestle you to the ground and scrub it off."

Tim laughed at that. "I hadn't been planning on it… Anyway… McSciuto can be sleeping in her crib, and I can be hacking away in my office. I can be home at six every night. Sure, I might be chained to my computer and cell once I get there, and I might end up with three other Cybercrime Agents in my living room, but unlike Abby, my job can come home."

"Yep. You're a dad."

"Yeah. And I want to do it right. But… it still feels weird."

"Feels like you're changing. Like you don't quite know who you are?"

"Yeah."

"Welcome to the club, Tim. Give it a few months, once she's on the outside, you'll get settled again."

"I hope so."

Next

Shards To A Whole: Chapter 173

McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.


Chapter 173: Passing the Torch

For their fifth bootcamp, Gibbs ended up with two more kids.

He hadn't been expecting Ziva and Breena to show up, but if they wanted to come, he was fine with it. Plus, having Ziva's eyes and skills would make this more effective for everyone. He'd be able to get input from her for training for all three of them, which would be a very good thing.

He was taping up Breena's hands when he asked, "Are you… should you…" He's tripping over the question because it's kind of delicate and he's never actually had a direct conversation with Breena. Sure he's smiled at her, kissed her cheek, offered hugs when congratulations were in order, and told her to do things when that was necessary, and they've been part of the same conversation, but he's never actually spoken with just her.

But she seemed to get what he wasn't asking. "Do you think he'd let me anywhere near this if my doctor didn't say I'm healed up enough for it."

He nods. "Okay. Molly with Abby?"

"Yep. Rumor has it she and Tony are making dinner for the rest of us. Did Abby invite you for dinner?" Gibbs nods. "I'm thinking it might be just her cooking. When we left, Tony was trying to convince Molly she wanted to play games that didn't involve him having to move because he hurts all over."

Gibbs furrows his eyebrows.

Breena understands that he doesn't know why Tony's hurting. "They did yoga yesterday. Tim and Jimmy are fine. Tony pushed too hard."

He nods at that. He's had a few conversations with Tony over the last year along the lines of Tim and Jimmy are a decade younger than he is, in awfully good shape, and if he wants to keep up with them he's got to take better care of himself. "What sort of fighting have you done?"

"I punched a guy in sixth grade." That was about what he was expecting.

"Make a fist."

She did. It didn't look too bad. Someone, and here he's thinking Ed, taught her how to make a fist, and probably how to throw a punch.

"Ziver?"

"Yes, Gibbs."

He pointed to Tim and Jimmy, who also started paying attention to what he was saying. "Watch those two spar. First round, they do whatever they want. Second round, Jimmy, your job is to focus on following where Tim's going. Figure out where he's going to hit you and block him. Tim work on hitting exactly what you're aiming for, right hand or either foot." Jimmy's accuracy was solid at this point, but he was still having a hard time anticipating where a hit was going to come. Meanwhile, Tim had gotten his accuracy up to one hundred percent with his left hand, but right and feet were still iffy, especially on anything other than the first round. "Ziver, by the time they're done, I want a training plan from you for each of them."

Ziva smiled and led the boys to the ring.

"Okay." Gibbs turned his attention back to Breena. "You sure you want to be here?"

She looked very determined. "Do you think I'm any less angry, less sad, or less frustrated than he is?"

"No." Gibbs shook his head.

"Do you think I shouldn't be able to try and beat it out?"

"No."

"Then why are you asking? Because I'm cute and a girl?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm done sitting at home and crying. Taking down that wall felt good, going to the range felt good, and this might too, and maybe it won't help, but I've got to try."

"It'll help, maybe not enough, but it'll help. Come on." Gibbs led her to one of the punching bags. "Show me what you've got."

She looked at him, eyebrows high, apparently she'd been expecting something else. "Just hit it?"

"Yep. Hard as you like. Right now I just want to see you throw a punch."

So she did. Walloped it. No control. No finesse. Lots of anger, lots of force.

"How's your arm?"

"Shoulder hurts, wrist hurts."

Gibbs nods. "Watch." He made a fist and punched the bag. He didn't tape up his own hands because he didn't think he was going to be doing any punching, so he doesn't put much force into it. Then he put her hands on his hips, which startled her, and punched again. "Feel what I'm doing?"

"Yeah."

He did it again, slowly, very little force, with her hands on his shoulders, elbow, and then his wrist. "Now you."

She hit again, very hard, but this time her form was a lot better.

"Hurt?"

"Not as much."

"Good. Now, do it slow and do it right. When you've got your form mastered on your right arm, we'll move to your left, and once you've got it down, then you can beat on anything you want as hard as you want as long as you want. Until then, soft, slow, easy." He cocks his head at Tim and Jimmy. "Just because those two idiots were dumb enough to beat each other into a pulp does not mean hurting yourself is a good idea."

She smiled a little at that, and then focused on the punching bag and hit it, slowly, but her form was perfect.

Gibbs nodded, small smile on his face. "Keep doing that. I'm going to see how your man's doing."

He stands next to Ziva, who's leaning against the ropes watching Tim and Jimmy intently.

"You suggested she come?"

"Jimmy suggested she go shooting with them. Apparently that went well. Tearing down the wall went well, too. So now she is here. When I heard she was coming, I suggested coming with her so she would have someone to spar with. Neither of them will fight her."

Gibbs kept an eye on them while Jimmy ducked under Tim's punch and got him in the ribs with his elbow. "Probably a good plan."

Ziva watched them spar for another thirty seconds, Tim sweeping Jimmy's legs out from under him, and nodded. "Neither of them has enough control to fight someone without possibly injuring them."

"Yep."

"What sort of training plan do you want for them?"

"Little bit of everything. Started elbows and knees with Jimmy last week. Still working on fist and foot with Tim. He's better on defense. Jimmy's better attacking."

"I can see that. McGee usually wins?"

"Usually. They fight until one of them hits the canvas. Tim wears him down, defending, and then takes his legs out from under him. Jimmy still can't tell when he's not really going to punch and is about to trip him. How about when they finish their next round you and I show them how to really do this?"

"You want to fight me?" Ziva's shocked. They've never sparred before.

Gibbs grinned.

"You sure?"

He nodded.

"Okay. Rules?"

"No eyes, no balls." He didn't expect to be fighting today, so he didn't bring a cup, and he'd really prefer not getting nailed.

"I can do that."

There are a few things Gibbs knows going into this fight, the most important of them is that he is going to lose.

There was a time when he could have probably taken Ziva David.

But that time was twenty years ago, when he was as fast as she is and could use his size to his advantage. Now, he's too slow. He knows it. Has been too slow for a long time. And while it's true that age and guile beat youth and innocence, age and guile lose when they go up against youth, guile, experience, and superior training.

There's a reason why he's never actually sparred with Ziva before. Kate, sure, he sparred with her, because he knew he could take her, and that was that. But he saw Ziva David walk in, saw her moves and confidence, and knew he couldn't take her down without a gun, and knew that'd look awfully bad for his position.

So they've never sparred. As the Team Leader, part of his job is to be God on Earth, unassailable and unchallengeable. None of the three of them could ever see him go down. When he got to the point where he wasn't entirely sure he could still keep taking Tony down in hand to hand, he stopped making them do bootcamp.

But it's March. In ten months Tony'll be the Team Leader. Tim'll be moving along soon, too. There are other employees around the gym, and it's time to get the word out that the balance of power in the MCRT is shifting.

Ziva's their combat specialist. She's their fighter. And, honestly… he'd almost rather promote her to Team Leader. It's not anything against Tony. He's earned the position many times over and he's a great cop, with very good instincts, but Ziva's a little more focused, more dedicated, and a lot more dangerous. Basically, Tony's the better cop, but Ziva's the better leader. Ultimately, he'd like to see them share the leadership position, and he hopes that's how they'll handle it.

But for now, it's time to pass at least some of it on. And as he thinks about it, he does need to have a long chat with Tony and Tim and Ziva about what's coming up next year. They've got to start looking for replacements, getting a plan in order.

But all of that is for later.

The guys are finishing up. Breena's already come over to watch them, and Ziva wants to know if he'd like to tape up his hands.

He nodded, and she taped up his hands. He looks at her untaped hands, offering to tape her up, and she just shakes her head.

"No eyes." He's seen what she does with her fingers in a fight, and he wants to make sure they're clear.

"No eyes, no balls, and I will not touch your throat, either."

He sighed, sees Tim and Jimmy watching them, looking both amazed and a little scared, and gestures to the ring for Ziva. She headed in, and waited for him.

"Pay attention. This is what it looks like when someone who knows what she's doing fights. Anything she's willing to teach you, you learn." Tim, Jimmy, and Breena all nodded.

Gibbs' time sense slows down when he fights. That's always been true. It's part of what made him a good sniper, he could slow things down, see what was happening and anticipate what would happen next and then pull the trigger. But even slowed down, she is shockingly fast.

He's just trying to keep standing long enough to not be horrendously embarrassed. He got three solid hits on her and a few near misses when she did this thing where she was standing on one foot, kicked at his head with the other, forcing him to dodge back, shifting his weight onto one leg, and while her foot was whispering a quarter inch from his temple she hooked her forearm behind his weight-bearing knee and yanked hard, toppling him to the canvas.

His ears were ringing a little when he hit, but he was fairly sure the entire gym had gone silent at that. He knows Jimmy, Tim, and Breena were just staring at them, eyes wide and beyond shocked.

Ziva offered him a hand up, and he took it, wrapped his arm around her and kissed her on the cheek, big, fond smile on his face.

"Jimmy, how do you defend against that?" Gibbs asked. If he's going to get his ass kicked, they're going to learn from it.

"Don't get into a fight with Ziva."

That got a dry smile out of Gibbs. "Tim?"

"My Sig. I don't get into fist fights with people who can kick my ass that badly."

"Overkill. Breena?"

"One second you were standing up, the next you were on the canvas. I have no idea what happened in between."

"You're going to learn how to watch a fight so you can see what happened. Ziva?"

"Catch my foot up by your head and push backward. It's possible we both would have gone down. I may have gotten the hold I needed on his knee, but my balance was far enough off that it definitely would have taken me down." She turned away from Gibbs to speak to the other three. "I spent the first minute learning exactly how fast Gibbs is. The kick/grapple combination I took him down with takes split second timing, and after the first minute I was sure he couldn't match that speed, so I was safe to try it."

Gibbs nods at that. "Ziva, you're with Jimmy, you attack, he defends. These two are going to watch. Breena's gonna tell me what's happening. Tim's gonna tell me what to do about it."

"Come on, Jimmy," Ziva said. He ducked under the ropes, looking pretty nervous. "If you have a choice between defending or attacking, you want to defend. The defender has the advantage of responding. This is why, even though it looks like you are actually the better fighter, McGee keeps dropping you…"

Next

Shards To A Whole: Chapter 172

McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.

Chapter 172: Coffee or Why Jimmy's Got Game

They got coffee after. Well, they went to a coffee shop, but all three of them got cold drinks. Tim's thinking that even after drinking the whole bottle of water he brought with him, refilling it, drinking that, and spending a good ten minutes just letting cold water run over him, that he's still a few quarts low on his hydration.

"So, Abby got a Groupon for that?" Tony asked as he sat down, heavily, looking like he was fairly sure he was never, ever going to move again.

"Yeah, back before she got pregnant. The original idea was to do it with him. But pregnant means she shouldn't get her temperature over 102, and it's 105 in there."

link

"We'd go do yoga day once a month or so; Breena usually comes, too." Jimmy got out his phone and showed them a shot of him and Abby posing at the last place, then flicked to the shot of the girls together, and one of the three of them. "This was last time. Haven't done Bikram in years, but that was fun. After McSciuto's on the outside, we'll have to do that again."

"I'm volunteering for babysitting duty right here and now," Tony says, face serious.

"You really hated that, didn't you?" Jimmy says, shaking his head. He'd had a really good time, and managed to go two full hours without thinking about anything Trisomy or Jon related.

"Jimmy, parts of me I didn't know existed hurt on a cellular level right now. Each and every single nerve in both thighs are screaming at me."

"You didn't have to go quite that gung ho on it. Part of the idea is patience and easing into the poses," Jimmy answers.

Tony took a sip of his shake, shaking his head, obviously Jimmy's never spent any time with anyone who was ever serious about competitive athletics. Ease into it. Tony sighs and changes the topic a little. "So… Abby and Breena can do that?"

"Some of it," Tim replies. She's not as into it as Jimmy is, and he's got no idea how devoted to yoga Breena is.

"Breena's really bendy," Jimmy says with a fairly dirty smile on his face.

Tim grins. "So's Abby."

"Huh." Tony appears to be grasping some of the reason why you might want your spouse to be into yoga, even if you're under the impression that it's some sort of torture.

"Ziva's pretty flexible, too, right?" Jimmy asks.

"Oh, yeah. She likes… pilates. So, why did you start doing it?" Tony asks Tim. They both know Jimmy started in college after he was diagnosed with diabetes.

"Found out on my honeymoon that there are some benefits to being flexible."

Jimmy sits there, nodding, looking really smug.

"Like what kind of benefits?" At the beginning of the class Jamie had gone over the "benefits" of yoga, and Tony's pretty damn sure neither McGee or Palmer would be looking that smug if they were thinking about blood pressure, stress relief, or better posture.

"Have sex when you get home, see how it feels," Tim says with a smile.

"McGee, I hurt all over. The last thing I want to do when I get home is move."

"Then don't. Lay back and let her do you. It'll be worth it."

Tony stares at him, eyes slightly narrowed, while Jimmy nods and grins, saying, "The looser you start off, the more you can ramp the tension up, the harder you'll come."

Tim turns to Jimmy quickly. "Wait, Abby said she read that. Did you tell her that?"

"Yeah. She might have read it, too. I gave her some of my books five-six years ago. She finally test that out on you?"

"Uh huh."

"Good?" Jimmy asks.

"I'm doing yoga, and kept doing it even when she was sleeping every possible minute instead of doing it with me. Yeah, it's good."

"How did you even learn stuff like this?" Tony asks.

Jimmy shrugs. "Cosmo. Back when I was dating Melissa," he sees that Tim and Tony don't know who that is, so he clarifies, "in college, I saw one of hers, read something on Tantric sex, decided that was worth looking into further, and well, fifteen years later, I'm pretty good at yoga."

"I thought you started yoga after you got sick," Tony says.

"I did. I was dating her after I got sick. Look, Breena was with us when I said that, and it is true that I got interested in it and started doing it about eight months after I was diagnosed with diabetes. Just, diabetes wasn't precisely the motivating factor for why I started or why I kept doing it."

"You like tantric sex?" Tim asks. He's familiar with the idea, but hasn't felt any need to try it out, too much religion-y stuff to be really attractive to him.

"Meh." Jimmy wiggles his hand to indicate it was so-so. "Tried it, but never got into it much. Don't get me wrong, the positions are interesting, and the increased strength and flexibility are very good things, plus it was the first thing I ran into that really got into the idea of sex as an art, which I really did like, but I don't believe in Chakras, and don't feel any need to try and meditate during sex, I mean, I like to be paying attention to the sex when I'm having sex, so that part of it wasn't doing anything for me."

"Sex as an art?" Tony asks.

"Sure," Jimmy's nodding away at this. "I can't paint, write, or sculpt to save my life, but I'm a damn good lay. And I got that way because I studied and practiced. You weren't just born great at basketball, right?"

"I was born good at basketball."

"And then you really worked at it to get a whole lot better?"

"Yep."

"Well, on raw talent alone, I'm good at sex. And, in some ways almost dying was a very good thing for me, because it helped me figure out what was important to me and what and who I wanted to be. But I was also twenty, so basically, what I really wanted to do was have a ton of sex. And look, I was built like Tim, kind of tall and scrawny—"

"Hey!"

"Tim, you look a lot better than you did this time last year, and a ton better than this time two years ago, but you've got a ways to go."

"No I don't. I'm healthy. I look fine. I get enough exercise to keep me quick and limber and eat well enough to keep me trim. I do not need to be so cut that you can use me as muscular anatomy display."

Jimmy just sort of shrugs. "Anyway, I knew I was always going to be kind of goofy and a little awkward, and that I was never going to be broad shouldered or classically handsome, so I'd never be really hot at getting a woman in the first place, but I also figured that if I got great at sex, and looked really good naked, the chances of a girl deciding to sleep with me a second time would raise dramatically. And having sex a whole lot with one girl would work perfectly for my goal of getting laid a lot. So I read up and practiced. And suddenly, I was getting laid a whole lot more. Especially in college and my early twenties when the rest of the guys my age were still clueless. I've been shot down left, right, and any other direction you can imagine, but since I decided sex was worth studying and learning how to get good at, no girl I've been with has refused a second date."

"None of them?" Tim's kicking himself for not having figured that out on his own. Once Jimmy said it, it was blindingly obvious, but that was an idea that never crossed his mind. Yeah, he did eventually get good, but he was a hell of a lot closer to thirty than twenty, and really it wasn't until he started dating Abby again that he had the opportunity to really learn another person well enough to jump from good to great.

"None. Not saying I've never been dumped, but date one has always lead to dates two, three, four and on."

"So, you really did dump Lee?" Tony asks. Sure, he heard about it. And yes, Lee was using Palmer, but even with all of that, he never really believed that Jimmy ended it.

'It was great sex.'

"Yeah, I really did. Look, I'm not going to say I minded the sex, because, I mean… it was great sex, and who doesn't like that? But I wanted more than to be her weekly booty call. I love sex, but I love women too, and I wanted the whole package. Getting off at work is great, but I was still going home to an empty apartment, and that wasn't."

Tony takes another drink of his shake and just stares at Jimmy for a long minute, like he's really not sure he wants to ask this or not, but finally he does. "Okay, so how do you get good at sex if you don't have any pickup skills? Isn't step one find a woman to do it with you?"

"Nah. Don't get me wrong, you can read until your eyes fall out and you're never going to figure it out without a girl around, but still, step one isn't grab the first available girl. Step one was learn anatomy and some basic technique. Step two was read things girls write for themselves—"

"I told you that!" Tim says to Tony. "He saw me reading Ms and couldn't figure out why I'd do that."

"I told you that if you wanted to get to know more about women, you needed to get to know some women," Tony says.

"I'm close to my mom, sister, grandmother, my best friend was a girl, and one of my partners was a girl. I wanted to know about the stuff they wouldn't tell me."

Jimmy nods in agreement with that. "Women will not tell you that you can't find a clit, even with a flashlight and GPS. They won't tell you your technique sucks. They really won't tell you how they like to be kissed or touched. They expect you to magically know that stuff. What they will do is complain to each other about the fact that you suck at sex. And if you read them complaining, you start to pick up some tips real fast. And if you want expert level tips, go find erotica written for girls, by girls, preferably lesbians, and pay attention. Then, once you've got that set, you go find a real girl, and you start playing, and you pay even more attention to how she responds to what you're doing. I have had women compliment me because I can actually figure out when what I'm doing isn't working, like it's some sort of magic trick, and it's really not difficult, you've just got to get your brain doing the thinking. But especially in college, that made me the wizard of sex."

Tim laughs at that. Back in college and grad school his brain generally wasn't involved in sex at all. It was certainly very interested in it, but tended to check out once the actual sex happened.

"So, you're what, sitting in your girl's room, and you just pick up her Cosmo and read it?" Tony asks.

"Yeah, pretty much. I'd finished my homework, she was still working on hers, I hadn't brought anything else to read, and it's Cosmo, so it's got a three-quarters naked women on the cover next to a headline that reads something like 117 Tips to Make Him Come So Hard His Ears Melt—"

"Those things are always so overrated," Tim adds.

"They really are. I don't think any of the girls who write those things have ever had sex with an actual man."

Tony's just looking at them like they're both some sort of strange insect and he's not sure if he wants to study them or run away shrieking.

But Jimmy just continues on, "So, I was all in favor of coming so hard my ears melted, so I got reading. And yeah, dumb tips, a girl tries to rub my dick between her wrists like she's starting a fire, especially without lube, and I'm getting the hell out of there."

"What?!" Tony says, stunned, holding his wrists in front of him, about two inches apart, staring in stupefaction.

"Really dumb tips," Tim says as he nods. "You know, the 117 Ways to Make Her Come So Hard Her Ears Melt things they have in Maxim or Men's Health might be just as bad." Tim's seen Tony's copies of those magazines, but never been bored enough to read one.

"Nope." Tony's pretty certain about that.

"Nope? You know for sure?" Jimmy asks. Last time he read a Maxim he was in college, and like the Cosmo he thought there were lots of sexy pictures and not much worth reading inside.

"Ziva reads Maxim as well, and she's let me know which ones are good and which aren't."

"Ah. Well, anyway, I'm reading her Cosmo, enjoying the pictures, seriously that thing's like soft porn, laughing really hard at the suggestions, and a few pages later I found the stuff on Tantric sex, and that actually looked good, but it was only three pages long, so off to the library I went, and a few inter-library loans and two weeks later, I had some stuff worth reading, and a girlfriend who was actually pretty interested in seeing what we could do with it."

"Twenty-year-old-you walks up to the counter at the library and asks them to put sex books on hold for you?" Tim asks. Twenty-year-old Tim McGee would have spontaneously combusted if he tried to ask for help finding sex books.

"Twenty-year-old-me was bound and determined to get great at sex. Plus the girl at the counter was a freshman and really cute, so I practiced my flirting technique. She still thought I was a dork, and probably a pervert, but I got the books I was looking for. And then I had a whole lot of fun with them. I wasn't flexible or strong enough for a lot of the stuff in there, so next semester I signed up for the yoga gym class and have been doing it regularly since." Jimmy drinks some of his iced tea and stretches. "I should probably be getting home soon."

Tim checks his watch, it's a little after one. "Yeah. Bootcamp tomorrow?"

"See you then." Jimmy stood and headed off.

Tony took another sip of his shake. "I am so glad I'm not doing that tomorrow. I'm going home, filling the bathtub with cold water and ice, and not moving for a week."

"If you're hurting that bad, your body may be telling you more exercise is in order."

"What it's telling me is that I'm forty-eight and trying to become a pretzel is a bad plan. I don't feel like this after jogging or sparring."

"It was for a good cause. He didn't check his phone once the whole time we were out."

"I know. And I could see he was really smiling when we were talking. After I get back from my honeymoon, we'll bring Ziva and Breena and do it again."

"Good."

"Why couldn't you two be basketball fans? You know, normal guys do things like go to a game."

"This is better for you."

"Yeah." Tony got up very slowly and began limping toward the door.

"Did you really hurt yourself?" Tim asked, yeah, he's sore; he knows he did something that's not part of his usual routine, but he's not aching.

"I hope not."

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