Keryl Raist's Blog, page 19
October 8, 2013
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 229
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 229: So Good
It's so good.
She's hot and wet and wrapped around him, and it's just so fucking good. He's standing up and has his arms under her legs, his body and the wall keeping her up, and its hot and fast and deep, so, so deep, balls deep, buried in her body, every millimeter of his cock in soft, wet, hot, glorious, tight pussy, and they're going full out against the wall and she can kiss him and her hands are clenched in his hair as her lips move over his and her breasts rub against his chest and it's all so good.
It's better than good. This is just ten million shades of marvelous and its better than sex has ever been and he's just so high and tight and turned on and hard, so hard, never been this hard, his eyelashes are hard, pounding into her and she's riding him back just as fast, moaning his name, scratching his back bloody as she cries against him, coming in hot, clenching waves of pleasure.
She's on her back, missionary style, one leg over his shoulder, the other wrapped around his back, heel on his thigh. It's as fast as he can go, relentless, thrusting over and over, burying himself in her, chasing a blazing orgasm that's barely inches away.
And he feels so incredible. Like his whole body is going to come. Like every cell's about to tingle and pulse.
And so tight, she's a hot, slick vise, perfect friction, perfect pressure, so incredibly good, so close, wanting, moving, so hard he hurts, not quite there, almost, almost.
Her hand slides behind him, rubbing, cupping his balls and he's a whole level higher. Didn't think he could get more turned on than he is, but he was wrong. So hot, so hard, so wanting.
Fast, hot, slick, wet, velvet, silk, tight and thrust.
Her fingers find their target and blinding white hot pleasure pressure to go with fast and hard and hot and slick and tight and it's just the best orgasm ever, he's riding high on wet, thrusting pulses and scorching tingles through his whole body and God he's never, ever felt this good and…
"Tim! Wake up! Water broke!"
He was still three quarters in the dream, aware that something really important was happening, but he was also still coming and between that and sleep he was having a really hard time figuring out what was going on so he said, "Huh?"
Abby poked him, hard. "Water broke. Kelly's coming. We have to get to the hospital now!"
Okay, that got the brain re-engaged. "Okay," he's springing into action when something hits him. "How wet are you?"
"What?"
"Is it just your ass and the back of your thighs?"
She thought about that, seemed to be doing a little mental checking. "Yeah."
It's dark in their room so she can't see the fact that he's blushing like crazy. (Of course, even if the lights were on, he's also covered in a sex flush, so she would have missed the blush, but would have seen the cum dripping off of him and figured this out a little sooner.)
"Taste it."
"What?" Her voice sounds like he's completely lost it and she's not appreciating him going utterly insane right this second of all seconds.
He closed his eyes, feeling horrifically embarrassed by this. "Just had a wet dream. Might not be amniotic fluid."
She takes a tentative lick. He can't really see the expression on her face, but he can tell by her tone of voice she's annoyed. "You're cleaning that up."
"Yes, dear."
He kept the lights off. It's hard enough to get back to sleep if you get up and really do something, and light just makes that worse.
She comes out of the bathroom, washed up he assumes, and leans against the dresser, waiting for him to get done stripping off the sheets and putting new ones on.
"I was actually asleep, you know."
"Yeah. I guessed."
"I mean really asleep. Nothing hurt. No weird dreams. Just beautiful, restful, solid sleep. The kind I haven't had more than two hours of in a row for like three months."
"I'm really sorry."
He got the new sheets on and patted her side of the bed. "Let's see if you can get back to sleep."
"Hrmp."
"You can at least try. Got three more hours until normal wake up time."
She got into bed, and he snuggled up behind her.
"You cheated."
"Huh?"
"No orgasms. You cheated."
"I was asleep."
She's not buying that.
"If I had cheated, that wouldn't have happened. That hasn't happened since before I figured out how to jerk off, and trust me, that wasn't something that took me long to figure out."
She snorts a quick laugh at that. "Good dream?"
"Oh, God, yes!"
"How good?"
"Well, I got off without any touching, so pretty damn good."
"What were we doing?"
"If I answer that, is that a good thing, or is that just a get you horny and frustrated type of thing. 'Cause, if I fall off the wagon here, nothing happens. You do, and the results may be more troublesome than wet sheets."
She groaned. "Give me a general answer, and then I'll try to go back to sleep."
"Fucking each other so hard we were shaking the paint off the walls."
"Oh." That's a half moan half sigh all yes I want that NOW!
"Yeah. One day, soon, Kelly will be out, and you'll be all healed up, and Breena and Jimmy are going to babysit, and we're going to fuck until we can't anymore."
"That sounds go good."
"It will be." He kisses her shoulder. "And, sooner yet, when she's out, and there's no more danger, I will tell you all about it, every, single, scorching hot detail, and that time, we'll go soft and slow and just get used to it again, and that's going to be good, too."
He was settling back into sleep again when she asked, "So, how did you figure it out?"
"Huh?"
"How to jerk off. Said it didn't take you long to figure it out. How'd you figure it out?"
He rubs his eyes. "Ummm…" And thinks back. Obviously there was a time he didn't know how to do it, but the memory of that time was awfully fuzzy. After a few seconds it clicked. "Oh. Yeah. So, would have been eleven, and…well… okay, look, if you're an eleven-year-old guy, you're basically an erection on legs. It's poking up all the time and anything and nothing at all will cause one. And the whole time that's happening it feels like there's a massive spotlight on your crotch showing everyone on Earth that you've got a constant hard on."
She laughs at that.
"It really wasn't fun."
"I believe you. Still, I was at a sleepover when I got my first period, with all my friends, and bled all over the place, and of course my friend's mom wasn't home, just her dad, so… for some reason I'm just not feeling overwhelming sympathy to what was, in fact, a not wildly visible problem on your part."
"Fine, you win the puberty sucks contest. Still, wasn't much fun."
"Okay."
"Anyway, eventually, your eleven-year-old-male body takes care of the issue with some fairly intense dreams and waking up, horrified, with your pajamas glued to you. Oh, and yeah, telling your friend's dad 'I just started my period' probably wasn't fun, but I suddenly had all of this extra laundry, and the person who did the laundry was my mom, my Catholic mom, my Catholic mom, who has never, not once, in the almost 38 years I've known her, mentioned sex in my presence. In fact, the only reason I knew what was going on was one, brief, and horrendously uncomfortable conversation with my very Catholic grandfather about the 'facts of life' and how certain things would start happening to me soon, and that I should really just try to ignore it and channel my energies in more constructive directions."
"Okay, I'll give you a tie on the puberty sucks award."
"Thank you. So, it's the middle of the night, I'm in wet, sticky, clammy pajamas, and have to do something about it. Can't just shove them in the laundry hamper because she washes my clothing and, well, it's got a pretty distinctive smell, and… yeah… got to figure something out. We were in this little bungalow house and her room and bathroom were downstairs. So I creep off to the bathroom I shared with Sarah, pushed her tubby toys out of the way, put the pajamas in the sink to soak, and just wiped everything off.
"Okay, another thing about eleven-year-old-boys, they're not great on personal hygiene. They're usually still in the I-hate-baths phase of life. In fact, if I had to guess, this is the moment that ends the I-hate-baths phase of most guys' lives. So, first time it happens I take care of it with some toilet paper and leave it be.
"But I'm a eleven-year-old guy, so this isn't just a one-time thing. Second time it happened I did sleep through it and woke up, usual time, awfully crusty and literally glued to my pjs. And if there's something you don't want to do, it's yanking PJs that are cemented to your privates off.
"So, second time, into the shower I go. Thinking that if I get the PJs wet I can sort of peel them off. Anyway, I'm in there, slowly peeling the PJs off, and I noticed that felt pretty good, so once they were off I kind of kept messing around.
"And, soap, warm water, hard on, and yeah, it didn't take too long to figure out that if I was…" he pauses for a second to think of a good way to describe this, "thorough and vigorous in my washing technique that showers were a whole lot more fun, and I stopped having problems with sticky pajamas."
Abby laughed at that.
"And suddenly I no longer needed to be badgered to get showers. I was perfectly happy to do it as many times a day as I could. In fact I was starting to get lectured about using up too much hot water and how washing up three times a day wasn't good for my skin, which decided right about then was a good time to turn traitor and make my life miserable, but that's not really related to this."
Abby laughed at that too, taking his hand in hers and kissing his palm.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"I needed a good laugh."
He kissed her shoulder. "Anytime, baby, anytime. So, how about you? How'd you figure it out."
Abby sighed. "It's a dumb story."
"I like dumb stories."
"Okay. So, I'm eighteen—"
"Hold up. You were eighteen when you figured it out?"
"Yeah."
"You were having sex with other people before you started having sex with yourself?"
"I was eighteen before I got myself off. I'd messed around before that, but didn't manage to do it."
"How is that possible?" He gets up, circles around their bed, and settles in front of her, wanting to have this conversation face to face without making her have to roll over.
"Everything I could find focused on penetration, but that didn't do it for me and no one I knew had any real information about girls getting off."
"Really?" He looks utterly stunned by this.
"No, I'm making this up because I enjoy you staring at me in stupefaction. Yes, really. Quick, off the top of your head, tell me some pop culture reference about a girl masturbating?"
It takes a second but he comes up with something. "That song, 'When I think about you I touch myself.'"
"I was a sophomore in college when that came out, so that's got to be '91 or '92."
"Huh."
"Can you think of anything else, let alone anything that might be specific enough to be useful?"
He really thought about it, but… he was fourteen the year she was eighteen and his mom and dad were awfully strict about what he was allowed to watch or read. Sure, he snuck things, but nothing was springing to mind. "Ummm… nope."
"Yeah, and if there was, I didn't know about it. I mean, we all knew guys did it. Plenty of jokes about that. But, not so much on what to do about if you're a girl."
"Didn't you… get horny?"
"Sure. A lot."
"What'd you do about it?"
"Be really frustrated. Read Anne Rice books, which since I didn't know about the Beauty books, was pretty frustrating too. Probably should have read romance novels or Cosmo or something, probably would have let me know what target I should have been shooting for, but, they just always seemed so dumb, I couldn't make myself do it. Made out with boyfriends, also frustrating. Got some tattoos. Partied with Paulette. Messed around with myself, but didn't find the trick to it. Lots of 'intense dreams' as you put it. Got to college, met a guy, liked him enough to have sex with him and it was, well, okay. But if you're a girl, the idea is that sex, penetration, is supposed to get you off, but for most of us it doesn't work that way. So when I was messing around with myself, I didn't know what target I was aiming for.
"But while I didn't have much on female masturbation, pretty much everything agrees that sex is supposed to be a whole lot of fun. And I knew I wasn't frigid. I wanted it to be good. I was certainly eager for it. I knew there had to be a way to make it better. And he did, too, so one day he asked me to show him what I did with myself, and I didn't have an answer for that, because I really wasn't doing myself, which blew his mind, because like you he'd been doing himself for years and couldn't believe I wasn't."
"Yeah, well, it's kind of hard to believe. If you're a guy it's like figuring out how to breathe or blink. We're all pretty good with it on automatic."
"Wonderful. I'm taking back the puberty sucks award."
He nodded along with that, saying, "And I think it's clear you absolutely deserve it."
She stuck out her tongue at him, and he very lightly licked it.
"Look, I would have gone insane if I hadn't gotten off until I was 18."
She smiled at that. "Yeah, well, I probably wouldn't have had any trouble figuring it out myself if it had been seven inches long and sticking straight up in front of me."
He flashed her his self-depreciating look. "I was eleven, not nearly that big then."
"Was it the size of a clit?"
"No."
"I rest my point."
He chuckled a little at that, resting his hand on her belly, feeling Kelly squirm a bit. "So, you're 18. He's asking you for pointers, and you didn't have any."
"Exactly. But New Orleans was only a few hours away. So one Saturday we caught the bus, headed down, found a sex shop and bought out the instruction manuals."
"Jimmy's got a story like that, too."
"Really?" Her eyes lit up at that idea. "I haven't heard that story."
"Yeah, though his version of it involved hitting on the library girl while asking her to get the books on inter-library loan."
"Oh, God! I am so going to have to ask him about that. Anyway, we got the books, we read, we tried, and finally knowing what to aim for, figuring it out got a whole lot easier."
"Huh. Never thought about that."
"Yeah, well, when did you figure out how to get a girl off?"
"This might be another difference between California and Louisiana, but Sex Ed class in eighth grade had full-on sketches of the anatomy, what was what, and what it all did. I mean, I didn't know what to do with a clit until I was twenty-one and actually had a real girlfriend, but I knew they existed and why they existed long before that."
Abby thinks about that. She did have health class in eighth grade, and remembered the curriculum being mostly how babies were made, menstruation, and don't ever have any sex at all until you get married because there's his horrible new disease out there and we don't know a whole lot about it but if you get it you'll die. "Or it could be our age difference showing. For all I know that might have been standard for eight grade, when you got there, but that was the year I was a senior in high school."
"Could be."
"So, really, three times a day?"
He smiles at her, chuckling. "More than that sometimes; that's just what I was doing in the shower. All of us have a story about the time we decided snag mom's Victoria's Secret catalog and locked ourselves in the bathroom to see how many times we could do it until we couldn't anymore."
That makes her laugh. "So, if we ever have any boys, I'm thinking they'll be in charge of doing their own laundry about the time they turn ten."
"Yeah, that would have headed off a lot of embarrassment. Or at least not asking them about it if they suddenly feel a burning need to do their own laundry. You ever hear Tony's story about that?"
"Tony's got a story about that?"
"Oh yeah." He's got a wicked grin on his face. That was a pretty late night (somewhat inebriated) conversation between him, Tony, and Palmer, and it was awfully funny and made Tim very glad he'd never been at boarding school. "Dealing with mom is one thing. Boarding school, where you've got no privacy, and get issued two pairs of pajamas and one set of sheets per week is a whole other story."
That got another laugh. "Poor boy."
"Yeah."
She squeezed his hand. "I should try to get some more sleep."
"Okay."
Next
Chapter 229: So Good
It's so good.
She's hot and wet and wrapped around him, and it's just so fucking good. He's standing up and has his arms under her legs, his body and the wall keeping her up, and its hot and fast and deep, so, so deep, balls deep, buried in her body, every millimeter of his cock in soft, wet, hot, glorious, tight pussy, and they're going full out against the wall and she can kiss him and her hands are clenched in his hair as her lips move over his and her breasts rub against his chest and it's all so good.
It's better than good. This is just ten million shades of marvelous and its better than sex has ever been and he's just so high and tight and turned on and hard, so hard, never been this hard, his eyelashes are hard, pounding into her and she's riding him back just as fast, moaning his name, scratching his back bloody as she cries against him, coming in hot, clenching waves of pleasure.
She's on her back, missionary style, one leg over his shoulder, the other wrapped around his back, heel on his thigh. It's as fast as he can go, relentless, thrusting over and over, burying himself in her, chasing a blazing orgasm that's barely inches away.
And he feels so incredible. Like his whole body is going to come. Like every cell's about to tingle and pulse.
And so tight, she's a hot, slick vise, perfect friction, perfect pressure, so incredibly good, so close, wanting, moving, so hard he hurts, not quite there, almost, almost.
Her hand slides behind him, rubbing, cupping his balls and he's a whole level higher. Didn't think he could get more turned on than he is, but he was wrong. So hot, so hard, so wanting.
Fast, hot, slick, wet, velvet, silk, tight and thrust.
Her fingers find their target and blinding white hot pleasure pressure to go with fast and hard and hot and slick and tight and it's just the best orgasm ever, he's riding high on wet, thrusting pulses and scorching tingles through his whole body and God he's never, ever felt this good and…
"Tim! Wake up! Water broke!"
He was still three quarters in the dream, aware that something really important was happening, but he was also still coming and between that and sleep he was having a really hard time figuring out what was going on so he said, "Huh?"
Abby poked him, hard. "Water broke. Kelly's coming. We have to get to the hospital now!"
Okay, that got the brain re-engaged. "Okay," he's springing into action when something hits him. "How wet are you?"
"What?"
"Is it just your ass and the back of your thighs?"
She thought about that, seemed to be doing a little mental checking. "Yeah."
It's dark in their room so she can't see the fact that he's blushing like crazy. (Of course, even if the lights were on, he's also covered in a sex flush, so she would have missed the blush, but would have seen the cum dripping off of him and figured this out a little sooner.)
"Taste it."
"What?" Her voice sounds like he's completely lost it and she's not appreciating him going utterly insane right this second of all seconds.
He closed his eyes, feeling horrifically embarrassed by this. "Just had a wet dream. Might not be amniotic fluid."
She takes a tentative lick. He can't really see the expression on her face, but he can tell by her tone of voice she's annoyed. "You're cleaning that up."
"Yes, dear."
He kept the lights off. It's hard enough to get back to sleep if you get up and really do something, and light just makes that worse.
She comes out of the bathroom, washed up he assumes, and leans against the dresser, waiting for him to get done stripping off the sheets and putting new ones on.
"I was actually asleep, you know."
"Yeah. I guessed."
"I mean really asleep. Nothing hurt. No weird dreams. Just beautiful, restful, solid sleep. The kind I haven't had more than two hours of in a row for like three months."
"I'm really sorry."
He got the new sheets on and patted her side of the bed. "Let's see if you can get back to sleep."
"Hrmp."
"You can at least try. Got three more hours until normal wake up time."
She got into bed, and he snuggled up behind her.
"You cheated."
"Huh?"
"No orgasms. You cheated."
"I was asleep."
She's not buying that.
"If I had cheated, that wouldn't have happened. That hasn't happened since before I figured out how to jerk off, and trust me, that wasn't something that took me long to figure out."
She snorts a quick laugh at that. "Good dream?"
"Oh, God, yes!"
"How good?"
"Well, I got off without any touching, so pretty damn good."
"What were we doing?"
"If I answer that, is that a good thing, or is that just a get you horny and frustrated type of thing. 'Cause, if I fall off the wagon here, nothing happens. You do, and the results may be more troublesome than wet sheets."
She groaned. "Give me a general answer, and then I'll try to go back to sleep."
"Fucking each other so hard we were shaking the paint off the walls."
"Oh." That's a half moan half sigh all yes I want that NOW!
"Yeah. One day, soon, Kelly will be out, and you'll be all healed up, and Breena and Jimmy are going to babysit, and we're going to fuck until we can't anymore."
"That sounds go good."
"It will be." He kisses her shoulder. "And, sooner yet, when she's out, and there's no more danger, I will tell you all about it, every, single, scorching hot detail, and that time, we'll go soft and slow and just get used to it again, and that's going to be good, too."
He was settling back into sleep again when she asked, "So, how did you figure it out?"
"Huh?"
"How to jerk off. Said it didn't take you long to figure it out. How'd you figure it out?"
He rubs his eyes. "Ummm…" And thinks back. Obviously there was a time he didn't know how to do it, but the memory of that time was awfully fuzzy. After a few seconds it clicked. "Oh. Yeah. So, would have been eleven, and…well… okay, look, if you're an eleven-year-old guy, you're basically an erection on legs. It's poking up all the time and anything and nothing at all will cause one. And the whole time that's happening it feels like there's a massive spotlight on your crotch showing everyone on Earth that you've got a constant hard on."
She laughs at that.
"It really wasn't fun."
"I believe you. Still, I was at a sleepover when I got my first period, with all my friends, and bled all over the place, and of course my friend's mom wasn't home, just her dad, so… for some reason I'm just not feeling overwhelming sympathy to what was, in fact, a not wildly visible problem on your part."
"Fine, you win the puberty sucks contest. Still, wasn't much fun."
"Okay."
"Anyway, eventually, your eleven-year-old-male body takes care of the issue with some fairly intense dreams and waking up, horrified, with your pajamas glued to you. Oh, and yeah, telling your friend's dad 'I just started my period' probably wasn't fun, but I suddenly had all of this extra laundry, and the person who did the laundry was my mom, my Catholic mom, my Catholic mom, who has never, not once, in the almost 38 years I've known her, mentioned sex in my presence. In fact, the only reason I knew what was going on was one, brief, and horrendously uncomfortable conversation with my very Catholic grandfather about the 'facts of life' and how certain things would start happening to me soon, and that I should really just try to ignore it and channel my energies in more constructive directions."
"Okay, I'll give you a tie on the puberty sucks award."
"Thank you. So, it's the middle of the night, I'm in wet, sticky, clammy pajamas, and have to do something about it. Can't just shove them in the laundry hamper because she washes my clothing and, well, it's got a pretty distinctive smell, and… yeah… got to figure something out. We were in this little bungalow house and her room and bathroom were downstairs. So I creep off to the bathroom I shared with Sarah, pushed her tubby toys out of the way, put the pajamas in the sink to soak, and just wiped everything off.
"Okay, another thing about eleven-year-old-boys, they're not great on personal hygiene. They're usually still in the I-hate-baths phase of life. In fact, if I had to guess, this is the moment that ends the I-hate-baths phase of most guys' lives. So, first time it happens I take care of it with some toilet paper and leave it be.
"But I'm a eleven-year-old guy, so this isn't just a one-time thing. Second time it happened I did sleep through it and woke up, usual time, awfully crusty and literally glued to my pjs. And if there's something you don't want to do, it's yanking PJs that are cemented to your privates off.
"So, second time, into the shower I go. Thinking that if I get the PJs wet I can sort of peel them off. Anyway, I'm in there, slowly peeling the PJs off, and I noticed that felt pretty good, so once they were off I kind of kept messing around.
"And, soap, warm water, hard on, and yeah, it didn't take too long to figure out that if I was…" he pauses for a second to think of a good way to describe this, "thorough and vigorous in my washing technique that showers were a whole lot more fun, and I stopped having problems with sticky pajamas."
Abby laughed at that.
"And suddenly I no longer needed to be badgered to get showers. I was perfectly happy to do it as many times a day as I could. In fact I was starting to get lectured about using up too much hot water and how washing up three times a day wasn't good for my skin, which decided right about then was a good time to turn traitor and make my life miserable, but that's not really related to this."
Abby laughed at that too, taking his hand in hers and kissing his palm.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"I needed a good laugh."
He kissed her shoulder. "Anytime, baby, anytime. So, how about you? How'd you figure it out."
Abby sighed. "It's a dumb story."
"I like dumb stories."
"Okay. So, I'm eighteen—"
"Hold up. You were eighteen when you figured it out?"
"Yeah."
"You were having sex with other people before you started having sex with yourself?"
"I was eighteen before I got myself off. I'd messed around before that, but didn't manage to do it."
"How is that possible?" He gets up, circles around their bed, and settles in front of her, wanting to have this conversation face to face without making her have to roll over.
"Everything I could find focused on penetration, but that didn't do it for me and no one I knew had any real information about girls getting off."
"Really?" He looks utterly stunned by this.
"No, I'm making this up because I enjoy you staring at me in stupefaction. Yes, really. Quick, off the top of your head, tell me some pop culture reference about a girl masturbating?"
It takes a second but he comes up with something. "That song, 'When I think about you I touch myself.'"
"I was a sophomore in college when that came out, so that's got to be '91 or '92."
"Huh."
"Can you think of anything else, let alone anything that might be specific enough to be useful?"
He really thought about it, but… he was fourteen the year she was eighteen and his mom and dad were awfully strict about what he was allowed to watch or read. Sure, he snuck things, but nothing was springing to mind. "Ummm… nope."
"Yeah, and if there was, I didn't know about it. I mean, we all knew guys did it. Plenty of jokes about that. But, not so much on what to do about if you're a girl."
"Didn't you… get horny?"
"Sure. A lot."
"What'd you do about it?"
"Be really frustrated. Read Anne Rice books, which since I didn't know about the Beauty books, was pretty frustrating too. Probably should have read romance novels or Cosmo or something, probably would have let me know what target I should have been shooting for, but, they just always seemed so dumb, I couldn't make myself do it. Made out with boyfriends, also frustrating. Got some tattoos. Partied with Paulette. Messed around with myself, but didn't find the trick to it. Lots of 'intense dreams' as you put it. Got to college, met a guy, liked him enough to have sex with him and it was, well, okay. But if you're a girl, the idea is that sex, penetration, is supposed to get you off, but for most of us it doesn't work that way. So when I was messing around with myself, I didn't know what target I was aiming for.
"But while I didn't have much on female masturbation, pretty much everything agrees that sex is supposed to be a whole lot of fun. And I knew I wasn't frigid. I wanted it to be good. I was certainly eager for it. I knew there had to be a way to make it better. And he did, too, so one day he asked me to show him what I did with myself, and I didn't have an answer for that, because I really wasn't doing myself, which blew his mind, because like you he'd been doing himself for years and couldn't believe I wasn't."
"Yeah, well, it's kind of hard to believe. If you're a guy it's like figuring out how to breathe or blink. We're all pretty good with it on automatic."
"Wonderful. I'm taking back the puberty sucks award."
He nodded along with that, saying, "And I think it's clear you absolutely deserve it."
She stuck out her tongue at him, and he very lightly licked it.
"Look, I would have gone insane if I hadn't gotten off until I was 18."
She smiled at that. "Yeah, well, I probably wouldn't have had any trouble figuring it out myself if it had been seven inches long and sticking straight up in front of me."
He flashed her his self-depreciating look. "I was eleven, not nearly that big then."
"Was it the size of a clit?"
"No."
"I rest my point."
He chuckled a little at that, resting his hand on her belly, feeling Kelly squirm a bit. "So, you're 18. He's asking you for pointers, and you didn't have any."
"Exactly. But New Orleans was only a few hours away. So one Saturday we caught the bus, headed down, found a sex shop and bought out the instruction manuals."
"Jimmy's got a story like that, too."
"Really?" Her eyes lit up at that idea. "I haven't heard that story."
"Yeah, though his version of it involved hitting on the library girl while asking her to get the books on inter-library loan."
"Oh, God! I am so going to have to ask him about that. Anyway, we got the books, we read, we tried, and finally knowing what to aim for, figuring it out got a whole lot easier."
"Huh. Never thought about that."
"Yeah, well, when did you figure out how to get a girl off?"
"This might be another difference between California and Louisiana, but Sex Ed class in eighth grade had full-on sketches of the anatomy, what was what, and what it all did. I mean, I didn't know what to do with a clit until I was twenty-one and actually had a real girlfriend, but I knew they existed and why they existed long before that."
Abby thinks about that. She did have health class in eighth grade, and remembered the curriculum being mostly how babies were made, menstruation, and don't ever have any sex at all until you get married because there's his horrible new disease out there and we don't know a whole lot about it but if you get it you'll die. "Or it could be our age difference showing. For all I know that might have been standard for eight grade, when you got there, but that was the year I was a senior in high school."
"Could be."
"So, really, three times a day?"
He smiles at her, chuckling. "More than that sometimes; that's just what I was doing in the shower. All of us have a story about the time we decided snag mom's Victoria's Secret catalog and locked ourselves in the bathroom to see how many times we could do it until we couldn't anymore."
That makes her laugh. "So, if we ever have any boys, I'm thinking they'll be in charge of doing their own laundry about the time they turn ten."
"Yeah, that would have headed off a lot of embarrassment. Or at least not asking them about it if they suddenly feel a burning need to do their own laundry. You ever hear Tony's story about that?"
"Tony's got a story about that?"
"Oh yeah." He's got a wicked grin on his face. That was a pretty late night (somewhat inebriated) conversation between him, Tony, and Palmer, and it was awfully funny and made Tim very glad he'd never been at boarding school. "Dealing with mom is one thing. Boarding school, where you've got no privacy, and get issued two pairs of pajamas and one set of sheets per week is a whole other story."
That got another laugh. "Poor boy."
"Yeah."
She squeezed his hand. "I should try to get some more sleep."
"Okay."
Next
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 228
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 228: Sublimation
Sublimation is the ability to divert your desire for something, say sex, into some other action.
Tim's been sublimating the ever living shit out of his sex drive.
He's got protocols set for all of the computer searches he usually runs for when he goes on leave. Draga may not be able to jump into investigating and crime scene work ten minutes after getting to NCIS, but he will be able to run any search Tim usually does. (Actually, with the level of detail Tim's got on these protocols, Gibbs will be able to run the searches.)
Couldn't locate laid-back with a GPSHe's really going after their case. He's even leaving Gibbs in the dust on occasion, which is actually kind of frightening to Tony and Ziva, because Tim's supposed to be the laid-back one, and right now Tim couldn't locate laid-back with a GPS and a team of skilled trackers.
If they gave out modern, sensitive, caring, doting husband awards, he'd be in the running for gold. (Seriously, the three new LabRats keep staring at him as he continually bops down with little treats for Abby, wondering how he's got time for it all, when they aren't wishing he wasn't trying to teach them how to do their jobs. Yes, Major Mass Spec is tetchy, but they're lab techs, all with multiple advanced degrees in this subject, they do not need some field agent hovering around telling them how to talk to the equipment.)
He's gotten sixteen chapters of the latest Deep Six written.
And he's gotten really obsessed about making the perfect glass of iced-coffee.
And okay, he's not quite as annoyed or tense as he was in Afghanistan, but it's also only day six.
Shower time is the hardest part of the day, and he means that in the sense of both difficult and stiff. Traditionally, if he's still got a hard on by the time he gets into the shower, he takes care if it while washing up.
And he still needs to wash up.
So it's not like he can just ignore it and let it wither.
And really, it's not like he can just sort of wash around it and hope getting wet is enough. Okay, he could do that, but he's personally fastidious and finds that idea really gross.
So, he's found himself thinking, several times, of the sage advice that if you shake it more than twice, you're playing with yourself, so the application of soap has been somewhat perfunctory, but enough to get the job done. And, he has noticed that he's keeping the water temperature a lot lower than he likes as encouragement to get out of there fast.
Male physiology and female physiology is not precisely the same thing. Specifically women do not have prostates.
And, granted, he's not a women, so he's not sure if there is some sort of female analog to this (though he doesn't see how there could be) but his body is sending him some very clear signals along the lines of 'Gosh, now would be a very good time to just clear the pipes out' by way of what feels like a very full, very swollen, and very sensitive prostate.
Now, normally, when he's feeling this, it's because Abby's playing with it and he's maybe, at most, an hour or two away from getting off. Usually he's a whole lot closer. And when Abby's playing with him, this is a very welcome sensation because he knows it means he's going to cum like a geyser when he gets off, and that's always a very good thing.
And, look, he read Cryptonomicon and thought that section where Waterhouse didn't get any privacy for six weeks in a row which resulted in him being very aware of his prostate the whole time was really funny.
Living it, feeling this way 24/7 is significantly less funny.
It's also producing some side effects that are highly reminiscent of junior high, and he's really not appreciating the fact that just standing up too fast can result in his clothing rubbing against him in a way that will produce a hard-on.
And while it's true that he's actively sublimating the hell out of his sex drive (or trying at least) it's also true that he's letting Breena and Jimmy head to the pool with Abby, because he'd rather gouge out his eyeballs than do anything disrespectful toward Abby, and well, if he's at the pool, where the girls in the tiny, wet bikinis are, he's going to have to gouge out his eyeballs to avoid that, and really, he needs his eyes.
Jimmy asked him about it on Saturday after dinner. (Nine days down, five to go.) He'd taken the three girls to the pool. Tim stayed home to "write" and was in charge of dinner. After the meal, he and Jimmy took care of dishes while the girls commiserated about how not fun being pregnant is while Molly slept in what will very soon be Kelly's room.
"So, really, you stayed home to write?" Jimmy asks, taking a wet pot from Tim and starting to dry it.
"Yes. Been writing a whole lot lately." He scrubbing away on the forks. (Doing dishes by hand also got added to the sublimating to-do list.) "I've got hard deadlines for my books, you know."
"Uh huh."
"And I don't know how much time I'll have for it after Kelly's born."
Jimmy nods. "True."
"So I want to get as much done as I can."
"Makes sense. Total bullshit, but it makes sense. Come on, why are you hiding?"
Tim put the scrubby down, and started rinsing the forks. "Because I'm the idiot who swore off sex when his wife went on pelvic rest, but didn't stop making out with her."
Jimmy laughed. "God, no wonder you're climbing the walls." Jimmy rubbed his shoulder, which was still sore from last week, realizing there was a reason why Tim was so… energetic… at Bootcamp last Sunday, and had the sinking suspicion he was going to get killed tomorrow.
Tim smiles, appreciating that Jimmy gets what he means by swore off sex. "Just got to make it to Thursday."Jimmy laughed at that, too. "Nothing says classy like running off two seconds after your kid's born to jerk off. Friday, Tim, maybe Saturday. Trust me, you'll be busy."
"Wonderful." Tim hands over the forks, and Jimmy sticks them in the dishwasher flashing him a look that says you've got one of these for a reason.Tim rolls his eyes. "I'm suddenly feeling some empathy for Tony. Wonder if he just never takes care of it himself. 'Cause I know I've been looking at all of them, all the time, and thinking about every woman I lay eyes on. Not just the pretty ones, I mean, if there's better than even odds the person in front of me doesn't have a penis, I'm interested."
Jimmy laughed, full out, wiping the tears from his eyes, laughed at that. When he calmed himself down he said, "Wait, you're really watching Breena?"
"What, did you just meet me? Of course I'm watching her. And Ziva. Vance's secretary. Gladys in Accounting. All of those nameless girls that wander about the building. And Abby, mostly Abby, but yeah, all of them."
He takes three steps to the left, and drags Jimmy along. There's no direct line of sight from their kitchen into the living room where the girls are. There is a good view of the dining room window which reflects whatever's in front of the TV, and in this case, that's Abby and Breena on the sofa, Breena rubbing Abby's hips and they're both in the sundresses they changed into after leaving the pool. Abby's is long and black, but pretty low cut. Breena's is short, pink, with a halter top. Lots of beautiful soft, round, succulent pregnant female anatomy in light-golden tan and rose tinged cream on display and it's killing Tim. "You tell me you're not looking at that and liking it, and I will hit you and call you a liar. And if you even try to tell me you spent four hours in the pool with both of them in little, wet bathing suits and didn't look and didn't like looking, then you're not just gay, you're dead!"
Jimmy smiled, looking amused and a little guilty. "Okay, yeah, that was nice. Abby was rubbing sunblock on Breena, and Breena's got a new bikini. Shame you missed it."
Tim groaned quietly, eyes closed, trying not to imagine it, and finally said, "Yeah, well, unlike you, I'm not getting laid tonight, so I don't need to be any more wound up than I already am."
Jimmy laughed at that, too. "So, nothing at all?"
"Fooling around, but she can't get off, so I'm not either."
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh, but…"
"Hey, it's not easy for her, either."
"I guess not." And it occurs to Jimmy that it might not just be being eight months pregnant that has Abby on such a short fuse lately. "So what are you going to do tonight?"
"Pray she goes into labor."
That made Jimmy laugh, too.
There is a point in every pregnancy, though it differs from woman to woman and pregnancy to pregnancy, where everything becomes uncomfortable.
This point is when pregnancy stops being measured in weeks and starts to be measured in years.
And thus, somewhere around twenty years pregnant, which may have felt like thirty or thirty-four or whatever weeks the day before, everything on earth becomes an annoyance.
Everything.
And clothing, which must press up close against the now multiple years-long pregnant woman's body, is the worst offender. No matter how sheer, how light, how comfortable the clothing looks, wearing it is sheer torture. The item of clothing in question could be a caftan made of spider silk, and it would still be annoying.
And only two things make that torture worse: A: summer heat, which just adds to the general desire to say fuck it, I'll go naked, and B: looking at your pregnant-self naked and deciding you'd rather scratch out your eyes than see yourself like that again.
And fine, maybe not every woman goes through this. Abby's not exactly conducting a scientific poll here, but she certainly is going through it, and Breena certainly did, and that's enough for her to declare that this is a universal constant, and one that sucks mightily.
And if Breena's right, it isn't getting better anytime soon, because, sure Kelly could show up any day, but really, she's still five days off. Or, by the way time is passing right now, eighty-seven years.
Having gotten to this point in the pregnancy, Abby has come to several conclusions: A: She's never doing this again. They want more babies, Tim can figure out how to get himself pregnant. B: Clothing manufacturers are sadistic assholes. C: Summer is evil. D: Their air conditioning is not nearly powerful enough. E: Kelly better hurry the hell up and show up soon. F: Tim needs to stop giving her big, sad puppy dog eyes every time she snaps at him because that just makes her feel sad and guilty on top of mad. And G: EVERYTHING IN THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE SUCKS!
She was expounding on this topic at great length when Breena gave her a long hug, rubbed her back a little, and said, "I've thrown up four times today. The pharmacy ran out of my anti-nausea meds, so I'm on the second best version until Monday. It'll get better soon, and it's not nearly as bad as it could be." And that kind of took the wind out of her sails.
Abby looked at Breena, sighed, and said, "I know. I just hate this!"
"Every woman does. This part has to suck otherwise you won't decide that trying to get the kid out, which isn't a walk in the park, is worth it no matter how much it hurts."
The sound of Jimmy laughing hysterically in the kitchen stopped their conversation. Breena looked at Abby, shaking her head. "What do you think they're talking about?"
"That kind of laugh? They're talking about sex or making fun of Tony, or making fun of Tony when it comes to sex. Did I tell you Tim laughed so hard he cried when I told him what I added to the honeymoon pack?"
"Yeah. So did Jimmy. Though Ziva told me they had a good time with those books."
"Yay! I didn't hear back on if he used anything from what I added."
"He did. She approved of that, too. Though I think she told him it was us adding the things we liked best and thought any guy really needed to know how to do."
"Ahhh… If it kept his ego happy and let her have a good time, it's all good."
"Yep."
A few seconds later Tim and Jimmy came into the living room from the kitchen. Breena looked up at them, smiling, and said, "Sounded like you were having fun in there."
Jimmy sat next to Breena, wrapping his arm around her and kissed her. "Always. So, we should probably get going. Molly wakes up at six no matter what. She doesn't get the idea of Sunday."
"Sounds good. You wanna go grab her?"
"Sure." Jimmy scooted next to Abby to give her a goodbye hug, and then headed up to get Molly. Breena hugged Abby and Tim, and a minute later they headed off, quietly, sleeping toddler snuggled onto Jimmy's shoulder.
Tim sat on the sofa next to Abby, hand resting on her belly. Her fingers laced with his. And as annoying as being pregnant was, as much as everything hurts and five days from now some really scary stuff is going to happen, she can see Molly on Jimmy's shoulder, and the image of Tim carrying Kelly is hitting her really hard. So she's crying a little, snuggling against him.
He pets her hair, not sure what's going on, but that's not exactly something new these days. She'll tell him when she gets herself under control.
And she does. The c-section is scheduled for the 18th. Assuming it goes well, they'll get to go home on the 21st. Which means eight days from now, Tim will walk into this house with her, carrying their baby cuddled against his chest.
And damn if that didn't make his eyes tear up a little, too.
Next
Chapter 228: Sublimation
Sublimation is the ability to divert your desire for something, say sex, into some other action.
Tim's been sublimating the ever living shit out of his sex drive.
He's got protocols set for all of the computer searches he usually runs for when he goes on leave. Draga may not be able to jump into investigating and crime scene work ten minutes after getting to NCIS, but he will be able to run any search Tim usually does. (Actually, with the level of detail Tim's got on these protocols, Gibbs will be able to run the searches.)
Couldn't locate laid-back with a GPSHe's really going after their case. He's even leaving Gibbs in the dust on occasion, which is actually kind of frightening to Tony and Ziva, because Tim's supposed to be the laid-back one, and right now Tim couldn't locate laid-back with a GPS and a team of skilled trackers.If they gave out modern, sensitive, caring, doting husband awards, he'd be in the running for gold. (Seriously, the three new LabRats keep staring at him as he continually bops down with little treats for Abby, wondering how he's got time for it all, when they aren't wishing he wasn't trying to teach them how to do their jobs. Yes, Major Mass Spec is tetchy, but they're lab techs, all with multiple advanced degrees in this subject, they do not need some field agent hovering around telling them how to talk to the equipment.)
He's gotten sixteen chapters of the latest Deep Six written.
And he's gotten really obsessed about making the perfect glass of iced-coffee.
And okay, he's not quite as annoyed or tense as he was in Afghanistan, but it's also only day six.
Shower time is the hardest part of the day, and he means that in the sense of both difficult and stiff. Traditionally, if he's still got a hard on by the time he gets into the shower, he takes care if it while washing up.
And he still needs to wash up.
So it's not like he can just ignore it and let it wither.
And really, it's not like he can just sort of wash around it and hope getting wet is enough. Okay, he could do that, but he's personally fastidious and finds that idea really gross.
So, he's found himself thinking, several times, of the sage advice that if you shake it more than twice, you're playing with yourself, so the application of soap has been somewhat perfunctory, but enough to get the job done. And, he has noticed that he's keeping the water temperature a lot lower than he likes as encouragement to get out of there fast.
Male physiology and female physiology is not precisely the same thing. Specifically women do not have prostates.
And, granted, he's not a women, so he's not sure if there is some sort of female analog to this (though he doesn't see how there could be) but his body is sending him some very clear signals along the lines of 'Gosh, now would be a very good time to just clear the pipes out' by way of what feels like a very full, very swollen, and very sensitive prostate.
Now, normally, when he's feeling this, it's because Abby's playing with it and he's maybe, at most, an hour or two away from getting off. Usually he's a whole lot closer. And when Abby's playing with him, this is a very welcome sensation because he knows it means he's going to cum like a geyser when he gets off, and that's always a very good thing.
And, look, he read Cryptonomicon and thought that section where Waterhouse didn't get any privacy for six weeks in a row which resulted in him being very aware of his prostate the whole time was really funny.
Living it, feeling this way 24/7 is significantly less funny.
It's also producing some side effects that are highly reminiscent of junior high, and he's really not appreciating the fact that just standing up too fast can result in his clothing rubbing against him in a way that will produce a hard-on.
And while it's true that he's actively sublimating the hell out of his sex drive (or trying at least) it's also true that he's letting Breena and Jimmy head to the pool with Abby, because he'd rather gouge out his eyeballs than do anything disrespectful toward Abby, and well, if he's at the pool, where the girls in the tiny, wet bikinis are, he's going to have to gouge out his eyeballs to avoid that, and really, he needs his eyes.
Jimmy asked him about it on Saturday after dinner. (Nine days down, five to go.) He'd taken the three girls to the pool. Tim stayed home to "write" and was in charge of dinner. After the meal, he and Jimmy took care of dishes while the girls commiserated about how not fun being pregnant is while Molly slept in what will very soon be Kelly's room.
"So, really, you stayed home to write?" Jimmy asks, taking a wet pot from Tim and starting to dry it.
"Yes. Been writing a whole lot lately." He scrubbing away on the forks. (Doing dishes by hand also got added to the sublimating to-do list.) "I've got hard deadlines for my books, you know."
"Uh huh."
"And I don't know how much time I'll have for it after Kelly's born."
Jimmy nods. "True."
"So I want to get as much done as I can."
"Makes sense. Total bullshit, but it makes sense. Come on, why are you hiding?"
Tim put the scrubby down, and started rinsing the forks. "Because I'm the idiot who swore off sex when his wife went on pelvic rest, but didn't stop making out with her."
Jimmy laughed. "God, no wonder you're climbing the walls." Jimmy rubbed his shoulder, which was still sore from last week, realizing there was a reason why Tim was so… energetic… at Bootcamp last Sunday, and had the sinking suspicion he was going to get killed tomorrow.
Tim smiles, appreciating that Jimmy gets what he means by swore off sex. "Just got to make it to Thursday."Jimmy laughed at that, too. "Nothing says classy like running off two seconds after your kid's born to jerk off. Friday, Tim, maybe Saturday. Trust me, you'll be busy."
"Wonderful." Tim hands over the forks, and Jimmy sticks them in the dishwasher flashing him a look that says you've got one of these for a reason.Tim rolls his eyes. "I'm suddenly feeling some empathy for Tony. Wonder if he just never takes care of it himself. 'Cause I know I've been looking at all of them, all the time, and thinking about every woman I lay eyes on. Not just the pretty ones, I mean, if there's better than even odds the person in front of me doesn't have a penis, I'm interested."
Jimmy laughed, full out, wiping the tears from his eyes, laughed at that. When he calmed himself down he said, "Wait, you're really watching Breena?"
"What, did you just meet me? Of course I'm watching her. And Ziva. Vance's secretary. Gladys in Accounting. All of those nameless girls that wander about the building. And Abby, mostly Abby, but yeah, all of them."
He takes three steps to the left, and drags Jimmy along. There's no direct line of sight from their kitchen into the living room where the girls are. There is a good view of the dining room window which reflects whatever's in front of the TV, and in this case, that's Abby and Breena on the sofa, Breena rubbing Abby's hips and they're both in the sundresses they changed into after leaving the pool. Abby's is long and black, but pretty low cut. Breena's is short, pink, with a halter top. Lots of beautiful soft, round, succulent pregnant female anatomy in light-golden tan and rose tinged cream on display and it's killing Tim. "You tell me you're not looking at that and liking it, and I will hit you and call you a liar. And if you even try to tell me you spent four hours in the pool with both of them in little, wet bathing suits and didn't look and didn't like looking, then you're not just gay, you're dead!"
Jimmy smiled, looking amused and a little guilty. "Okay, yeah, that was nice. Abby was rubbing sunblock on Breena, and Breena's got a new bikini. Shame you missed it."
Tim groaned quietly, eyes closed, trying not to imagine it, and finally said, "Yeah, well, unlike you, I'm not getting laid tonight, so I don't need to be any more wound up than I already am."
Jimmy laughed at that, too. "So, nothing at all?"
"Fooling around, but she can't get off, so I'm not either."
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh, but…"
"Hey, it's not easy for her, either."
"I guess not." And it occurs to Jimmy that it might not just be being eight months pregnant that has Abby on such a short fuse lately. "So what are you going to do tonight?"
"Pray she goes into labor."
That made Jimmy laugh, too.
There is a point in every pregnancy, though it differs from woman to woman and pregnancy to pregnancy, where everything becomes uncomfortable.
This point is when pregnancy stops being measured in weeks and starts to be measured in years.
And thus, somewhere around twenty years pregnant, which may have felt like thirty or thirty-four or whatever weeks the day before, everything on earth becomes an annoyance.
Everything.
And clothing, which must press up close against the now multiple years-long pregnant woman's body, is the worst offender. No matter how sheer, how light, how comfortable the clothing looks, wearing it is sheer torture. The item of clothing in question could be a caftan made of spider silk, and it would still be annoying.
And only two things make that torture worse: A: summer heat, which just adds to the general desire to say fuck it, I'll go naked, and B: looking at your pregnant-self naked and deciding you'd rather scratch out your eyes than see yourself like that again.
And fine, maybe not every woman goes through this. Abby's not exactly conducting a scientific poll here, but she certainly is going through it, and Breena certainly did, and that's enough for her to declare that this is a universal constant, and one that sucks mightily.
And if Breena's right, it isn't getting better anytime soon, because, sure Kelly could show up any day, but really, she's still five days off. Or, by the way time is passing right now, eighty-seven years.
Having gotten to this point in the pregnancy, Abby has come to several conclusions: A: She's never doing this again. They want more babies, Tim can figure out how to get himself pregnant. B: Clothing manufacturers are sadistic assholes. C: Summer is evil. D: Their air conditioning is not nearly powerful enough. E: Kelly better hurry the hell up and show up soon. F: Tim needs to stop giving her big, sad puppy dog eyes every time she snaps at him because that just makes her feel sad and guilty on top of mad. And G: EVERYTHING IN THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE SUCKS!
She was expounding on this topic at great length when Breena gave her a long hug, rubbed her back a little, and said, "I've thrown up four times today. The pharmacy ran out of my anti-nausea meds, so I'm on the second best version until Monday. It'll get better soon, and it's not nearly as bad as it could be." And that kind of took the wind out of her sails.
Abby looked at Breena, sighed, and said, "I know. I just hate this!"
"Every woman does. This part has to suck otherwise you won't decide that trying to get the kid out, which isn't a walk in the park, is worth it no matter how much it hurts."
The sound of Jimmy laughing hysterically in the kitchen stopped their conversation. Breena looked at Abby, shaking her head. "What do you think they're talking about?"
"That kind of laugh? They're talking about sex or making fun of Tony, or making fun of Tony when it comes to sex. Did I tell you Tim laughed so hard he cried when I told him what I added to the honeymoon pack?"
"Yeah. So did Jimmy. Though Ziva told me they had a good time with those books."
"Yay! I didn't hear back on if he used anything from what I added."
"He did. She approved of that, too. Though I think she told him it was us adding the things we liked best and thought any guy really needed to know how to do."
"Ahhh… If it kept his ego happy and let her have a good time, it's all good."
"Yep."
A few seconds later Tim and Jimmy came into the living room from the kitchen. Breena looked up at them, smiling, and said, "Sounded like you were having fun in there."
Jimmy sat next to Breena, wrapping his arm around her and kissed her. "Always. So, we should probably get going. Molly wakes up at six no matter what. She doesn't get the idea of Sunday."
"Sounds good. You wanna go grab her?"
"Sure." Jimmy scooted next to Abby to give her a goodbye hug, and then headed up to get Molly. Breena hugged Abby and Tim, and a minute later they headed off, quietly, sleeping toddler snuggled onto Jimmy's shoulder.
Tim sat on the sofa next to Abby, hand resting on her belly. Her fingers laced with his. And as annoying as being pregnant was, as much as everything hurts and five days from now some really scary stuff is going to happen, she can see Molly on Jimmy's shoulder, and the image of Tim carrying Kelly is hitting her really hard. So she's crying a little, snuggling against him.
He pets her hair, not sure what's going on, but that's not exactly something new these days. She'll tell him when she gets herself under control.
And she does. The c-section is scheduled for the 18th. Assuming it goes well, they'll get to go home on the 21st. Which means eight days from now, Tim will walk into this house with her, carrying their baby cuddled against his chest.
And damn if that didn't make his eyes tear up a little, too.
Next
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 227
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 227: Rest
There are many things Tim McGee is very good at. And he quite enjoys a large percentage of the things he's very good at. (Cleaning. He's very good at it, doesn't much like it, but his mom made sure he knew how to keep a tidy house.)
And as the first weekend of pelvic rest dawned on them, he was ready to combine the fact that he loves pampering Abby with the fact that he's very good at it, hopefully producing something that is a lot of fun for both of them.
They're on call, but the phone didn't buzz, so they slept in.
Well, he slept in. She dozed and rested. She's hit the point where she has to wake all the way up to roll over, and she's big and uncomfortable enough she can't lie in one position for more than an hour and a half, so, not a lot of solid, deep sleep for her.
But when he did wake up, she was sleeping, so he quietly grabbed some clothing and crept out of the house in search of treats.
An hour later, he was back with her favorite breakfast goodies, stuff for lunch and dinner, more snacks, flowers, and some massage oil that smelled good.
He put breakfast on a tray with the flowers, tucked the oil into his pocket, and headed up. He's hoping that he can keep them in bed for a whole lot of the weekend. And he's aware of the fact that spending a weekend in bed without having sex is going to be… difficult, but still, resting is important, Abby's supposed to be taking it easy, so he's grabbing any and everything he can find to make her want to stay in bed.
When he got up there, Abby looked like she was still dozing, so the tray went on his dresser, the massage oil went on the bedside table, and he shucked off his clothing and snuggled back into bed with her.
"Where'd you go?" she sounded sleepy.
"Out, got some goodies."
Goodies.She started the laborious process of rolling over to face him, and eventually got flipped over and asked, "What sort of goodies?"
"Food." He pointed behind him at his dresser. "Breakfast is over there. Got you hazelnut croissants and chocolate ones for me, some fresh berries, honeydew melon."
That got an excited look out of Abby. She levered herself up to look and smiled. He grinned, kissed her, and rolled out of bed to get the tray.
Cap and NatashaWith breakfast over, he moved onto part two of the plan, movies. Somehow they hadn't managed to see any of the Captain America movies (somehow means Cap is fine, but not either of their favorites, so watching his movies got booted to the bottom of the list, but Black Widow, who Tim does like and Abby really likes, is in Winter Soldier, so, anyway, Captain America movies.) and well, there was likely never going to be a better time to rectify that, so he was ready to swing into action.
But he also knew that right now, hours and hours of lying in bed really doesn't feel all that hot to Abby's back or hips.
So he had a plan, one he thought was a pretty good.
Namely, they don't have the greatest bathtub on earth, but it's big enough for both of them to sit in, especially if she's between his legs leaning back against his chest.
Granted he hasn't checked to see how much water displacement both of them in there with her pregnant will produce, but he's fairly sure they'll be able to get enough water in there to make her feel more comfortable, and that's all that matters.
Meanwhile, his Kindle doesn't have a huge screen, but it's really high def, and they've got a little rack that the soap and scrubby goes on, and that rack should work just fine for movie viewing.
So, he cleaned up breakfast and asked her to run a cool bath for them, which she did, and then surprised her with movies in the tub.
That got them to afternoon nap time. He wasn't feeling very sleepy, and had the sinking suspicion that she wasn't either. So instead of just snuggling up and snoozing he began gently nuzzling along the back of her neck, placing soft, wet kisses just below her hairline.
"What are you doing?"
He kissed her one last time before saying, "Making love." They hadn't been touching each other… Okay, that's not true, several hours of snuggling shows they've been touching, they hadn't been touching each other since the pelvic rest diktat. Part of that is just well, it's really frustrating to get into it and have to stop. But, he's missing the closeness of it. Cuddling is fine, but he'd like to take the time to make her feel good, as good as he can, and if that's not sex, well, it's not sex, but it's still making love.
"Think that's a good plan?" Because she knows how frustrating this might be, too.
"Yeah. Wanna make you feel good. Doesn't have to be sex. We can still kiss and pet and cuddle. Got some new massage oil, though I'd rub you all over, ease the sore bits. It's every woman's fantasy, right? Hours and hours of cuddling. No sex, no having to have sex, just lots of cozy adoration."
She laughed and tugged on him enough to get across the idea that she wants to be facing him, and these days it's just easier for him to scoot to the other side of her than it is for her to roll over. So he did, and she smiled, saying, "Baby, you're good at sex. That's the fantasy of women who hooked-up with men who are bad in bed."
He laughed at that. "We'll get through."
"We'll? I didn't notice Dr. Draz saying you couldn't get off."
"She didn't say I needed to cut caffeine out of my diet, either. I did that. I'm doing this, too. You don't get to get off, I don't, either."
"You're going to give up sex? For twelve days?" Abby looked stupefied by that.
He grins his sexy grin at her. "Unless you want me to give you a show, yeah, I am."
She closes her eyes and seems to be thinking about that, then sighs, and says, "No. Too much temptation, too frustrating." She's quiet for a minute. "Why?"
"Why?" He's not getting why this isn't self-evident.
"Yeah. Why? Last I checked you really, really like sex, and you don't have to do this."
He strokes his palm across her cheek, tangling his fingers in her hair, then trailing his fingers down her throat to her shoulder. "Last I checked, you don't like it any less than I do, and you're right, I love sex! But if you don't get to have it because it's necessary to keep our baby safe, then I don't either."
She smiles at him, sweet and warm, and then kisses him, gently. "You think you can go twelve days?"
"Fourteen really, and two down, twelve to go, and we'll find out. I mean, just because I haven't since… God… 1989 doesn't mean I can't. You think you can make it?"
"I have to. And I have done this before, that one Lent."
"Let me guess, that was a really good Easter for you."
She smiles. "I remember enjoying it."
He laughs at that. "Look, I know exactly what I'm doing that first shower after Kelly's on the outside, but… You're already going through a whole hell of a lot more on this make-babies thing than I am, so, well, I can do this."
She kisses the tip of his nose and then grinned. "Eight days."
"What?"
"That's how long I think you're gonna last."
"I'm not going to cheat!" He looks mocked appalled. He knows that mostly they're kidding around. Though he is going to do this, because he can, and because it matters, and just, well, it's really not fair and it really sucks that she has to do this, so she shouldn't have to do it alone.
"Sure. You're going to sleep naked, cuddled up against me every night, and not jerk off when you're alone."
"That's the plan."
"Uh huh." She's not buying it.
"Your faith in me is overwhelming," he says dryly.
"Hey, you're the one telling me you haven't gone more than a week since you were eleven."
"Well, okay, yeah. But I haven't had any reason to not go more than a week. I've got a reason now."
"Okay."
"So, massage, kissing, petting?"
"Definitely massage. Play kissing and petting by ear?"
"Fine by me."
He hasn't really made out, just messing around, no expectation that sex would result since… high school. And he's never been a jerk about it, basically his set of rules for sex go something like this: she sets the boundaries, I follow them, and if she set the line at no sex, then he took what she was willing to give and didn't push.
But since high school, he's pretty much dated girls who followed the first-two-dates-expect-kissing-and-if-things-are-going-well-sex-on-the-third rule, and just making out wasn't really part of the experience.
Pretty much, if he got to second base, he was going to slide into home, too.
And for the most part that made him awfully happy.
So, this is different.
And it's not like he and Abby aren't affectionate in non-sex ways. Not like there isn't plenty of kissing and cuddling and petting and it doesn't result in sex.
Or maybe it's like all of it results in sex. Like for them sex is just an ongoing constant with highs and lulls, but all of it is sex.
And perhaps this is a redefining of sex. Abby moaning breathily while he rubs her calves, taking the time to really get into those sore muscles and work on helping the swelling go down certainly feels good to him. And it's not the same sort of good as hearing her moan like that when he slips into her, but... it's not precisely different, either.
It's all pleasure and love and the bond holding them to each other no matter what might come.
He smiles up at her, looking away from her leg, and asks, "When you were in school did they have those lists of like 100 ways to show love that aren't sex?"
She gives him a very perplexed look. "You know, California and Louisiana really aren't the same place at all."
"I'll take that as a no."
"Why would you need something like that? When I was in school they didn't think we needed help to figure out how to express affection without sex."
"Supposedly to help cut down on teen pregnancy and combat STDs or something."
"Did it work?"
"I remember us mocking it viciously, and those of us who could more or less running out to get laid as quickly as possible out of spite."
That gets a laugh out of Abby. "And the next two weeks has you thinking about that?"
"Yeah."
"Any good suggestions on the list?"
"I remember making cookies together and buying diamonds was on the list."
"I'm in favor of cookies. And really, buying diamonds? Because sixteen-year-olds always have that kind of cash laying around."
"I'm not sixteen anymore, got some cash now." He smiled at her on that, and then added, "And yeah, mocked it viciously! It did appear to have been written by people who had never had sex or had never been teenagers, let alone teen males, but, the main idea, that sex wasn't the end all and be all of love, I was thinking about that."
She nods. "And…"
"And maybe there's not really a line. Maybe that's what they got wrong, and why that list felt so stupid. Maybe it's all sex, or all love, or… I don't know." He's having a hard time coming up with words for the nebulous concept bouncing around in his head. "I know this is going to be frustrating, but pulling completely away, not touching at all, not making love, it'd be so lonely." He ran his hand up her leg, rippling his knuckles along the belly of her calf, coaxing another happy moan out of her. "That's so good. And okay, it's not the same good, but it is the same good, right?"
"Different branches of the same tree."
He smiles, liking that idea. "Yeah." She'd been sitting, back against their headboard, and he'd been sitting cross-legged at her feet, one foot in his lap, the other leg bent at the knee as he worked on it. He gently took her foot out of his lap, and scooted around so he could sit next to her, right arm and leg behind her, cuddling her close, left hand on her face, left leg stretched along hers.
"My body craves yours." He stroked his hand along her shoulder and arm. "But it's not just that, not just this," and the way he's touching her leg gets across the idea that "this" means her body, "I wouldn't crave it, wouldn't need it, if you weren't in it. But since you are, I do, all the time."
She traced her fingers over his face, feather light touches across his cheek and jaw, thumb trailing over his lip. He's not a lot taller than she is, but most of the difference is in torso length, so her face is a good two inches below his, but light pressure on the back of his head got across the idea that she wanted to kiss him, so he lowered his face to hers, and she did kiss him, soft and slow and thorough.
And like anytime they really touch he feels it, the gathering of pleasure, the desire for more, the electric joy of her skin on his, the comfort of another heart that cherishes his, all of it is there.
And it is frustrating, because limits are frustrating. But the sweetness of making love to each other is worth the frustration.
Foot!"You're staring." Abby says, not opening her eyes. It's hours later, post dinner, post cookies (and yeah, it wasn't sex, but it was fun and awfully tasty), they're lying in bed (again). She's trying to sleep, but the small squirming person inside her is making that difficult, and the feel of Tim's eyes glued to her stomach (he had been writing) isn't helping.
"She's moving."
"I know, I can feel it."
"Yeah, but I can see it, and that's new." His hand lands on her stomach, resting gently. Then his finger traced down the outside of her stomach as Kelly kicked or stretched or whatever at the same time from the inside. "She's really in there."
Abby smiles a little, filing this under things guys don't really get because it doesn't happen to them, and says, "Yeah, she is."
Next
Chapter 227: Rest
There are many things Tim McGee is very good at. And he quite enjoys a large percentage of the things he's very good at. (Cleaning. He's very good at it, doesn't much like it, but his mom made sure he knew how to keep a tidy house.)
And as the first weekend of pelvic rest dawned on them, he was ready to combine the fact that he loves pampering Abby with the fact that he's very good at it, hopefully producing something that is a lot of fun for both of them.
They're on call, but the phone didn't buzz, so they slept in.
Well, he slept in. She dozed and rested. She's hit the point where she has to wake all the way up to roll over, and she's big and uncomfortable enough she can't lie in one position for more than an hour and a half, so, not a lot of solid, deep sleep for her.
But when he did wake up, she was sleeping, so he quietly grabbed some clothing and crept out of the house in search of treats.
An hour later, he was back with her favorite breakfast goodies, stuff for lunch and dinner, more snacks, flowers, and some massage oil that smelled good.
He put breakfast on a tray with the flowers, tucked the oil into his pocket, and headed up. He's hoping that he can keep them in bed for a whole lot of the weekend. And he's aware of the fact that spending a weekend in bed without having sex is going to be… difficult, but still, resting is important, Abby's supposed to be taking it easy, so he's grabbing any and everything he can find to make her want to stay in bed.
When he got up there, Abby looked like she was still dozing, so the tray went on his dresser, the massage oil went on the bedside table, and he shucked off his clothing and snuggled back into bed with her.
"Where'd you go?" she sounded sleepy.
"Out, got some goodies."
Goodies.She started the laborious process of rolling over to face him, and eventually got flipped over and asked, "What sort of goodies?""Food." He pointed behind him at his dresser. "Breakfast is over there. Got you hazelnut croissants and chocolate ones for me, some fresh berries, honeydew melon."
That got an excited look out of Abby. She levered herself up to look and smiled. He grinned, kissed her, and rolled out of bed to get the tray.
Cap and NatashaWith breakfast over, he moved onto part two of the plan, movies. Somehow they hadn't managed to see any of the Captain America movies (somehow means Cap is fine, but not either of their favorites, so watching his movies got booted to the bottom of the list, but Black Widow, who Tim does like and Abby really likes, is in Winter Soldier, so, anyway, Captain America movies.) and well, there was likely never going to be a better time to rectify that, so he was ready to swing into action.But he also knew that right now, hours and hours of lying in bed really doesn't feel all that hot to Abby's back or hips.
So he had a plan, one he thought was a pretty good.
Namely, they don't have the greatest bathtub on earth, but it's big enough for both of them to sit in, especially if she's between his legs leaning back against his chest.
Granted he hasn't checked to see how much water displacement both of them in there with her pregnant will produce, but he's fairly sure they'll be able to get enough water in there to make her feel more comfortable, and that's all that matters.
Meanwhile, his Kindle doesn't have a huge screen, but it's really high def, and they've got a little rack that the soap and scrubby goes on, and that rack should work just fine for movie viewing.
So, he cleaned up breakfast and asked her to run a cool bath for them, which she did, and then surprised her with movies in the tub.
That got them to afternoon nap time. He wasn't feeling very sleepy, and had the sinking suspicion that she wasn't either. So instead of just snuggling up and snoozing he began gently nuzzling along the back of her neck, placing soft, wet kisses just below her hairline.
"What are you doing?"
He kissed her one last time before saying, "Making love." They hadn't been touching each other… Okay, that's not true, several hours of snuggling shows they've been touching, they hadn't been touching each other since the pelvic rest diktat. Part of that is just well, it's really frustrating to get into it and have to stop. But, he's missing the closeness of it. Cuddling is fine, but he'd like to take the time to make her feel good, as good as he can, and if that's not sex, well, it's not sex, but it's still making love.
"Think that's a good plan?" Because she knows how frustrating this might be, too.
"Yeah. Wanna make you feel good. Doesn't have to be sex. We can still kiss and pet and cuddle. Got some new massage oil, though I'd rub you all over, ease the sore bits. It's every woman's fantasy, right? Hours and hours of cuddling. No sex, no having to have sex, just lots of cozy adoration."
She laughed and tugged on him enough to get across the idea that she wants to be facing him, and these days it's just easier for him to scoot to the other side of her than it is for her to roll over. So he did, and she smiled, saying, "Baby, you're good at sex. That's the fantasy of women who hooked-up with men who are bad in bed."
He laughed at that. "We'll get through."
"We'll? I didn't notice Dr. Draz saying you couldn't get off."
"She didn't say I needed to cut caffeine out of my diet, either. I did that. I'm doing this, too. You don't get to get off, I don't, either."
"You're going to give up sex? For twelve days?" Abby looked stupefied by that.
He grins his sexy grin at her. "Unless you want me to give you a show, yeah, I am."
She closes her eyes and seems to be thinking about that, then sighs, and says, "No. Too much temptation, too frustrating." She's quiet for a minute. "Why?"
"Why?" He's not getting why this isn't self-evident.
"Yeah. Why? Last I checked you really, really like sex, and you don't have to do this."
He strokes his palm across her cheek, tangling his fingers in her hair, then trailing his fingers down her throat to her shoulder. "Last I checked, you don't like it any less than I do, and you're right, I love sex! But if you don't get to have it because it's necessary to keep our baby safe, then I don't either."
She smiles at him, sweet and warm, and then kisses him, gently. "You think you can go twelve days?"
"Fourteen really, and two down, twelve to go, and we'll find out. I mean, just because I haven't since… God… 1989 doesn't mean I can't. You think you can make it?"
"I have to. And I have done this before, that one Lent."
"Let me guess, that was a really good Easter for you."
She smiles. "I remember enjoying it."
He laughs at that. "Look, I know exactly what I'm doing that first shower after Kelly's on the outside, but… You're already going through a whole hell of a lot more on this make-babies thing than I am, so, well, I can do this."
She kisses the tip of his nose and then grinned. "Eight days."
"What?"
"That's how long I think you're gonna last."
"I'm not going to cheat!" He looks mocked appalled. He knows that mostly they're kidding around. Though he is going to do this, because he can, and because it matters, and just, well, it's really not fair and it really sucks that she has to do this, so she shouldn't have to do it alone.
"Sure. You're going to sleep naked, cuddled up against me every night, and not jerk off when you're alone."
"That's the plan."
"Uh huh." She's not buying it.
"Your faith in me is overwhelming," he says dryly.
"Hey, you're the one telling me you haven't gone more than a week since you were eleven."
"Well, okay, yeah. But I haven't had any reason to not go more than a week. I've got a reason now."
"Okay."
"So, massage, kissing, petting?"
"Definitely massage. Play kissing and petting by ear?"
"Fine by me."
He hasn't really made out, just messing around, no expectation that sex would result since… high school. And he's never been a jerk about it, basically his set of rules for sex go something like this: she sets the boundaries, I follow them, and if she set the line at no sex, then he took what she was willing to give and didn't push.
But since high school, he's pretty much dated girls who followed the first-two-dates-expect-kissing-and-if-things-are-going-well-sex-on-the-third rule, and just making out wasn't really part of the experience.
Pretty much, if he got to second base, he was going to slide into home, too.
And for the most part that made him awfully happy.
So, this is different.
And it's not like he and Abby aren't affectionate in non-sex ways. Not like there isn't plenty of kissing and cuddling and petting and it doesn't result in sex.
Or maybe it's like all of it results in sex. Like for them sex is just an ongoing constant with highs and lulls, but all of it is sex.
And perhaps this is a redefining of sex. Abby moaning breathily while he rubs her calves, taking the time to really get into those sore muscles and work on helping the swelling go down certainly feels good to him. And it's not the same sort of good as hearing her moan like that when he slips into her, but... it's not precisely different, either.
It's all pleasure and love and the bond holding them to each other no matter what might come.
He smiles up at her, looking away from her leg, and asks, "When you were in school did they have those lists of like 100 ways to show love that aren't sex?"
She gives him a very perplexed look. "You know, California and Louisiana really aren't the same place at all."
"I'll take that as a no."
"Why would you need something like that? When I was in school they didn't think we needed help to figure out how to express affection without sex."
"Supposedly to help cut down on teen pregnancy and combat STDs or something."
"Did it work?"
"I remember us mocking it viciously, and those of us who could more or less running out to get laid as quickly as possible out of spite."
That gets a laugh out of Abby. "And the next two weeks has you thinking about that?"
"Yeah."
"Any good suggestions on the list?"
"I remember making cookies together and buying diamonds was on the list."
"I'm in favor of cookies. And really, buying diamonds? Because sixteen-year-olds always have that kind of cash laying around."
"I'm not sixteen anymore, got some cash now." He smiled at her on that, and then added, "And yeah, mocked it viciously! It did appear to have been written by people who had never had sex or had never been teenagers, let alone teen males, but, the main idea, that sex wasn't the end all and be all of love, I was thinking about that."
She nods. "And…"
"And maybe there's not really a line. Maybe that's what they got wrong, and why that list felt so stupid. Maybe it's all sex, or all love, or… I don't know." He's having a hard time coming up with words for the nebulous concept bouncing around in his head. "I know this is going to be frustrating, but pulling completely away, not touching at all, not making love, it'd be so lonely." He ran his hand up her leg, rippling his knuckles along the belly of her calf, coaxing another happy moan out of her. "That's so good. And okay, it's not the same good, but it is the same good, right?"
"Different branches of the same tree."
He smiles, liking that idea. "Yeah." She'd been sitting, back against their headboard, and he'd been sitting cross-legged at her feet, one foot in his lap, the other leg bent at the knee as he worked on it. He gently took her foot out of his lap, and scooted around so he could sit next to her, right arm and leg behind her, cuddling her close, left hand on her face, left leg stretched along hers.
"My body craves yours." He stroked his hand along her shoulder and arm. "But it's not just that, not just this," and the way he's touching her leg gets across the idea that "this" means her body, "I wouldn't crave it, wouldn't need it, if you weren't in it. But since you are, I do, all the time."
She traced her fingers over his face, feather light touches across his cheek and jaw, thumb trailing over his lip. He's not a lot taller than she is, but most of the difference is in torso length, so her face is a good two inches below his, but light pressure on the back of his head got across the idea that she wanted to kiss him, so he lowered his face to hers, and she did kiss him, soft and slow and thorough.
And like anytime they really touch he feels it, the gathering of pleasure, the desire for more, the electric joy of her skin on his, the comfort of another heart that cherishes his, all of it is there.
And it is frustrating, because limits are frustrating. But the sweetness of making love to each other is worth the frustration.
Foot!"You're staring." Abby says, not opening her eyes. It's hours later, post dinner, post cookies (and yeah, it wasn't sex, but it was fun and awfully tasty), they're lying in bed (again). She's trying to sleep, but the small squirming person inside her is making that difficult, and the feel of Tim's eyes glued to her stomach (he had been writing) isn't helping."She's moving."
"I know, I can feel it."
"Yeah, but I can see it, and that's new." His hand lands on her stomach, resting gently. Then his finger traced down the outside of her stomach as Kelly kicked or stretched or whatever at the same time from the inside. "She's really in there."
Abby smiles a little, filing this under things guys don't really get because it doesn't happen to them, and says, "Yeah, she is."
Next
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 226
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 226: Preparations
So, instead of an appointment with Dr. Draz the next afternoon, they ended up having a chat with Leon.
Like every Friday a case hasn't gone hot, they've got Shabbos at Tony and Ziva's so that's soon enough to explain what's going on to the family. Let them really talk about it.
But, since they know maternity leave starts no later than the 18th, Abby talking to her boss about it sounded like a good plan, and for while he's off, Tim has a few ideas of something he'd like to do, but he needed to float them by Vance before doing them.
"Agent McGee, Mrs. McGee, what can I do for you?"
Tim looked at Abby, but she didn't seem to want to talk, so he said, "We had another doctor's appointment last night. So, we now know that no later than 8:00 on 18th, Kelly's coming out."
Leon raises an eyebrow. Abby had let him know that things were not going as smoothly as they had hoped a month ago. So he's not sure if this is good news or not, but whatever it is they're still here and not in the hospital, so it can't be all bad news. "Congratulations. I take it you are up here to revisit your maternity leave plans?"
"Thanks, Leon. And yes. They'd really like it if I didn't move around more than strictly necessary. So unless she decides to head out sooner than expected, I'm thinking the 12th will be my last day. That should give Tom enough time to get a feel for the lab and up and running on his own."
Vance nods at that.
"And we need to re-do the job offer for Draga, hopefully he'll be able to start on the 15th instead of the 1st like we'd agreed," Tim adds.
Vance nods at that as well. "And you're still thinking of taking four weeks off?" he asks Tim.
"Yeah. I've got the time, might be more depending on how things go, but I don't assume I'll be entirely off."
"I thought the reason we hired Draga was so you could be completely off."
"Well, yes, among other things. It's not MCRT work I'm thinking of doing."
Vance looked at him curiously.
"I figure I'll need permission from you to do this. I want to hack Cybercrime. And everyone who works down there. On any device they work with. So, here, at home—"
Vance laughing cut him off.
"Sir? Bad plan? Privacy issues?"
Vance smiled at him and shook his head. "It's a fine plan, and I'll be very interested to see what your results are, however, it's not a plan you are going to execute with a brand new baby in the house."
"Sir?"
Vance smiles, shaking his head, chuckling. "Take it from someone who's done this before, McGee. You're not going to want to do anything more complicated than buying the groceries those first few weeks. So don't. I especially do not want you trying to hack Cybercrime when you're not at your full potential. Wait until you're rested again, then go after it, because I am intensely interested in seeing what you'll find when someone with a real A game goes up against them."
"Yes, sir."
"If I remember correctly, you're the one who built the main protective firewall that NCIS's systems hide behind."
"Yes, sir."
"So, shouldn't that tip them off to who is doing this?"
"If they're paying attention. I'm very interested in who comes to visit you about being hacked by the MCRT."
"And if anyone does?"
"Tell them it's a security check. The only ones who notice I've been there will be the ones who are really on the ball."
"Then I hope to have twelve people come visit me."
Tim highly doubts that will happen but he says, "Yes, that would be nice, wouldn't it?"
He kissed Abby, who headed for the elevator and from there down to the lab, and then went to his desk. He was standing on the landing, leaning, forearms against the railing, looking down at the Bullpen, and something hit him: where were they going to stick Draga?
Sure while he was out, Draga could use his desk, but theoretically he'd come back and it'd be the five of them for at least five months. So, they're going to need a place to put him.
And really, there are only two spaces, next to his desk or next to Gibbs' because it's not like the far side of Tony or Ziva's desks can be modified.
He's thinking that if they take the divider out between Gibbs and the empty space next to him, push the flat screen and printers flush against the back wall, and angle the desk in the empty space toward them, that would give them…
A really awkward work space, and the only good thing about it would be that Draga wouldn't be exiled off from the rest of the group.
Another angleTake the divider out between his desk and the next one…
And it's still awkward.
And he likes his divider, damn it. It's got all his stuff on it, and it's not like Gibbs uses his.
Square off Gibbs and Ziva's desks, shove them both closer to the dividers and squeeze one in between them?
No. They'd be tripping over Draga and his stuff and it'd be a mess.
He more felt Tony stop next to him than saw him. "What you looking at?"
"Figuring out where we're going to put Draga. We'll have to stick him somewhere for half a year."
"Good point."
"You gonna take Gibbs' desk again?"
another view"No. Don't need the symbol of it this time. He'll take yours or his, whichever one of you leaves first." Tony scans over the space. "Do we really need two big screens? Let alone four printers?"
"What are you thinking?"
"The big screen and printers behind Gibbs's desk. I've never seen us use the printers. And he's got what, a fax machine back there? When was the last time we used that?"
"Good point. Ziva doesn't need that TV behind her desk either. I certainly don't use the one next to my desk."
"Yeah, not like we need it to catch the news anymore. We've all got live streaming on our phones."
"So, get rid of the desk behind his with all that stuff. Move the big screen next to the other big screen. Square her desk off so it's flush against the divider. Shove his desk over a bit toward hers, and stick Draga's desk flush against the divider, facing it?"
Tim thinks about that, it'll do. "Sure. And when Gibbs leaves Draga can fully unpack and just expand into the space."
"He'll be back toward us."
"Nothing's perfect, and it's better than the first four plans I came up with. So, feel like helping me with some rearranging?"
"We don't have to do it now, do we?"
Tim shrugs. "Well, no. I guess not." Draga won't be there for at least two more weeks, maybe, if he can start sooner, he might not. They'd agreed on the first, and he might be busy until then. So, it doesn't have to happen right this second.
Tony looks at him. "You're nesting again, aren't you?"
"Probably. But that's not all of it." They stood there, staring over the bullpen, as Tim told Tony what had happened last night.
"This is good, right? Kelly on the outside, we're all happy and excited, right?"
"I am, or would be, but Abby's terrified, so that's hard."
"Oh."
"Yeah. And I get a c-section is more dangerous." He looks up at the ceiling. "But, it doesn't feel that way to me. Surgeons and precision and everyone knows what they're doing and…"
"You've got a set game plan, know what's going to happen, and there feels like less of a shot of unexpected."
"Yeah. Three incisions, reach in—"
"Okay, you can stop that right there. I do not need nearly that much detail on how this works. Talk to Jimmy about that."
"Jimmy's the one who told me that. He's actually done three of them."
"Of course he has. I'm perfectly comfortable with the idea of being the guy who goes nowhere near the business end of things when it comes to how babies get out."
Tim laughs at that. "Ziva's gonna love that."
Tony bumps Tim's shoulder with his own. "Ziva doesn't want to get anywhere near the business end of things, either."
Tim laughed at that, too.
"Come on, lets let Gibbs and Ziva know what's going on."
Next
Chapter 226: Preparations
So, instead of an appointment with Dr. Draz the next afternoon, they ended up having a chat with Leon.
Like every Friday a case hasn't gone hot, they've got Shabbos at Tony and Ziva's so that's soon enough to explain what's going on to the family. Let them really talk about it.
But, since they know maternity leave starts no later than the 18th, Abby talking to her boss about it sounded like a good plan, and for while he's off, Tim has a few ideas of something he'd like to do, but he needed to float them by Vance before doing them.
"Agent McGee, Mrs. McGee, what can I do for you?"
Tim looked at Abby, but she didn't seem to want to talk, so he said, "We had another doctor's appointment last night. So, we now know that no later than 8:00 on 18th, Kelly's coming out."
Leon raises an eyebrow. Abby had let him know that things were not going as smoothly as they had hoped a month ago. So he's not sure if this is good news or not, but whatever it is they're still here and not in the hospital, so it can't be all bad news. "Congratulations. I take it you are up here to revisit your maternity leave plans?"
"Thanks, Leon. And yes. They'd really like it if I didn't move around more than strictly necessary. So unless she decides to head out sooner than expected, I'm thinking the 12th will be my last day. That should give Tom enough time to get a feel for the lab and up and running on his own."
Vance nods at that.
"And we need to re-do the job offer for Draga, hopefully he'll be able to start on the 15th instead of the 1st like we'd agreed," Tim adds.
Vance nods at that as well. "And you're still thinking of taking four weeks off?" he asks Tim.
"Yeah. I've got the time, might be more depending on how things go, but I don't assume I'll be entirely off."
"I thought the reason we hired Draga was so you could be completely off."
"Well, yes, among other things. It's not MCRT work I'm thinking of doing."
Vance looked at him curiously.
"I figure I'll need permission from you to do this. I want to hack Cybercrime. And everyone who works down there. On any device they work with. So, here, at home—"
Vance laughing cut him off.
"Sir? Bad plan? Privacy issues?"
Vance smiled at him and shook his head. "It's a fine plan, and I'll be very interested to see what your results are, however, it's not a plan you are going to execute with a brand new baby in the house."
"Sir?"
Vance smiles, shaking his head, chuckling. "Take it from someone who's done this before, McGee. You're not going to want to do anything more complicated than buying the groceries those first few weeks. So don't. I especially do not want you trying to hack Cybercrime when you're not at your full potential. Wait until you're rested again, then go after it, because I am intensely interested in seeing what you'll find when someone with a real A game goes up against them."
"Yes, sir."
"If I remember correctly, you're the one who built the main protective firewall that NCIS's systems hide behind."
"Yes, sir."
"So, shouldn't that tip them off to who is doing this?"
"If they're paying attention. I'm very interested in who comes to visit you about being hacked by the MCRT."
"And if anyone does?"
"Tell them it's a security check. The only ones who notice I've been there will be the ones who are really on the ball."
"Then I hope to have twelve people come visit me."
Tim highly doubts that will happen but he says, "Yes, that would be nice, wouldn't it?"
He kissed Abby, who headed for the elevator and from there down to the lab, and then went to his desk. He was standing on the landing, leaning, forearms against the railing, looking down at the Bullpen, and something hit him: where were they going to stick Draga?Sure while he was out, Draga could use his desk, but theoretically he'd come back and it'd be the five of them for at least five months. So, they're going to need a place to put him.
And really, there are only two spaces, next to his desk or next to Gibbs' because it's not like the far side of Tony or Ziva's desks can be modified.
He's thinking that if they take the divider out between Gibbs and the empty space next to him, push the flat screen and printers flush against the back wall, and angle the desk in the empty space toward them, that would give them…
A really awkward work space, and the only good thing about it would be that Draga wouldn't be exiled off from the rest of the group.
Another angleTake the divider out between his desk and the next one…And it's still awkward.
And he likes his divider, damn it. It's got all his stuff on it, and it's not like Gibbs uses his.
Square off Gibbs and Ziva's desks, shove them both closer to the dividers and squeeze one in between them?
No. They'd be tripping over Draga and his stuff and it'd be a mess.
He more felt Tony stop next to him than saw him. "What you looking at?"
"Figuring out where we're going to put Draga. We'll have to stick him somewhere for half a year."
"Good point."
"You gonna take Gibbs' desk again?"
another view"No. Don't need the symbol of it this time. He'll take yours or his, whichever one of you leaves first." Tony scans over the space. "Do we really need two big screens? Let alone four printers?""What are you thinking?"
"The big screen and printers behind Gibbs's desk. I've never seen us use the printers. And he's got what, a fax machine back there? When was the last time we used that?"
"Good point. Ziva doesn't need that TV behind her desk either. I certainly don't use the one next to my desk."
"Yeah, not like we need it to catch the news anymore. We've all got live streaming on our phones."
"So, get rid of the desk behind his with all that stuff. Move the big screen next to the other big screen. Square her desk off so it's flush against the divider. Shove his desk over a bit toward hers, and stick Draga's desk flush against the divider, facing it?"
Tim thinks about that, it'll do. "Sure. And when Gibbs leaves Draga can fully unpack and just expand into the space."
"He'll be back toward us."
"Nothing's perfect, and it's better than the first four plans I came up with. So, feel like helping me with some rearranging?"
"We don't have to do it now, do we?"
Tim shrugs. "Well, no. I guess not." Draga won't be there for at least two more weeks, maybe, if he can start sooner, he might not. They'd agreed on the first, and he might be busy until then. So, it doesn't have to happen right this second.
Tony looks at him. "You're nesting again, aren't you?"
"Probably. But that's not all of it." They stood there, staring over the bullpen, as Tim told Tony what had happened last night.
"This is good, right? Kelly on the outside, we're all happy and excited, right?"
"I am, or would be, but Abby's terrified, so that's hard."
"Oh."
"Yeah. And I get a c-section is more dangerous." He looks up at the ceiling. "But, it doesn't feel that way to me. Surgeons and precision and everyone knows what they're doing and…"
"You've got a set game plan, know what's going to happen, and there feels like less of a shot of unexpected."
"Yeah. Three incisions, reach in—"
"Okay, you can stop that right there. I do not need nearly that much detail on how this works. Talk to Jimmy about that."
"Jimmy's the one who told me that. He's actually done three of them."
"Of course he has. I'm perfectly comfortable with the idea of being the guy who goes nowhere near the business end of things when it comes to how babies get out."
Tim laughs at that. "Ziva's gonna love that."
Tony bumps Tim's shoulder with his own. "Ziva doesn't want to get anywhere near the business end of things, either."
Tim laughed at that, too.
"Come on, lets let Gibbs and Ziva know what's going on."
Next
October 7, 2013
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 225
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 225: June 4th
June 4th Jimmy and Breena had their Nuchal Fold test scheduled for the late afternoon.
Tim and Abby took off for it, too.
If there was bad news, they wanted to be there, able to comfort right away.
And if it was good news, well, that's even better when shared.
Same place/different placeSo, instead of sitting in their own OB's office (next appointment, tomorrow afternoon) they're in a different OB's office.
Tim's thinking there's got to be a warehouse somewhere that sells OB office waiting rooms. The shape's a little different, and the colors are taupe and mauve instead of taupe and cream, but this is pretty much the exact same place, down to the same magazines.
"You'd think an OB's office would have better chairs," Abby says to him.
They're on this little sofa-like thing. It might be a love seat or a settee, Tim doesn't know precisely what the difference between those things is. She's sitting next to him, back to him, as he rubs gently over her low back and hips. They've been hurting on and off all day, and usually sitting down helps with that, but today's just being obnoxious and it's not really helping at all.
It felt like a lot of waiting. It always does.
"You think they're okay?" Tim asks her.
"Yeah." She squeezes his hand, and maybe she's not sounding all that certain, after all, it didn't seem like it took this long when they got their Nuchal Fold test done, but…
They've got to be okay. They just have to. Please!
All smiles
When Jimmy and Breena came out, all smiles and soul deep relief, Tim felt the grin spread across his face, and saw Abby hop (well, if she was less pregnant it would have been a hop, it was more of a lurch) up enthusiastically to hug them both.
When they got home, after a very happy, very fun, almost giddy dinner out, she flipped on the TV and settled in front of it, kneeling behind the exercise ball, leaning against it, rocking gently.
"I just can't seem to shake this," she said, forearms crossed over the top of the ball, her head against them. Yes, dinner had been a blast, but her back just kept aching. Not all the time, but enough so that it was really annoying.
"You're pregnant."
She just looks up from the ball at him, flashing her so done with you look. "Thanks, that's something I somehow wasn't aware of."
Tim realized that might have been unnecessarily poking the porcupine, so he retreats. "Sorry. Captain Obvious here. You want me to get you some Tylenol?"
"Yes."
He was back a minute later with a glass of ice water and two Tylenol. "What do you want to watch?"
"Don't care. Just want to veg."
"Okay. Want me to rub your back some more?"
"Please."
He sat cross-legged behind her, pressing his palms into her sacrum.
She sighed. "That helps. It's been coming and going all day."
"Umm…" He's not really listening, just hearing her voice, paying attention to his hands on her skin, finding the tight spots and working on them.
"Like…" Her voice trailed off as he hit something especially good. "Oh, that's nice."
He smiled, happy to have found a good spot.
"It's not like it's knives in my back or anything. I mean, when I'd get working or paying attention to something else, it'd kind of go away, but it just kept coming back."
He nodded. He'd had that kind of pain before. Low grade yuck that you can banish to the background by keeping your brain busy and then as soon as you don't have something else to pay attention to it jumps back to the foreground.
"A few times, I'd be loading up samples, and I'd have to stop for a minute, but then it'd ease up, and I'd go back to it… Oh, holy shit…"
"Abby?" He was getting a little worried because that 'Oh, holy shit' didn't sound happy.
"I am too stupid to let out of the house. I'm pregnant. With low back pain. That's been coming and going all day."
Tim's eyes went wide as what that was dawned on him. "You mean contractions."
"Yeah. Sometimes you feel them in your low back."
"Well, how many, how long, when?" He sounded awfully panicky as he says that.
"I don't know. All day?"
He leaped up, getting ready to grab the go bag and head directly to the hospital at whatever the highest rate of speed his car can obtain is.
"I don't think we need to race to the hospital this second."
He looked at her like she's insane. "I think we do. I think we need to be there right now!"
"You remember Dr. Draz saying that eventually I'd start to get some contractions, and that that was when we should make sure that we had an appointment for the next day?"
Okay, yeah, he did remember her saying that. And they do, in fact, have an appointment for the next day. But he was under the impression she meant something different by 'some contractions' than what Abby's been having, so he says, "Yeah. Braxton-Hicks contractions. That's like one here, one there, maybe a few more and then they stop. Not on and off all day."
Abby thought about that for a second, and seemed to be focusing on how long she's been feeling this way. "Okay, good point, help me up."
"Thank you."
They live three miles from St. Francis Hospital. Normal drive time (assuming you follow the speed limits) is about seventeen minutes. Tim got them there so fast Abby hadn't even gotten off of holding for the OB that was on call with their practice.
So, it was about nine seconds after walking in that chatting on the phone became something of a moot point, because they were able to see Dr. Draz face to face.
"Lucky thing I'm on call for tonight. Tell me what's going on."
So Abby did.
"How often have they been happening?"
"I don't really know. Didn't put it together until five minutes ago. But, maybe three times an hour for like the last eight hours, maybe all day."
"Okay. Let's get you in a gown and checked out."
This time Dr. Draz did the ultrasound herself, and a quick internal exam as well, took off her gloves, then spent another moment feeling Abby's belly.
"You're at negative two station," she said as she helped Abby sit up. "Which means Kelly's as far away from the cervix as she can get. Half-way effaced, so that means your cervix is thinning out, and you're one centimeter dilated. My guess is this is just the starting round. Sort of like when you turn the key and the engine revs a few times but nothing happens. Your placenta is still right near the cervix." She checked her notes. "You're at thirty-five weeks and four days right now, and we'd really like to see Kelly stay in there until thirty-seven weeks, thirty-eight is better."
"Well, yeah, it probably is, but Kelly seems to have a different opinion about that," Abby said.
"And well she might. But my guess, having seen this roughly seventeen thousand times, is that this is going to peter out. Tomorrow there'll be no contractions. Usually the baby's all the way down before your body gets really serious about trying to get her out. This is just a warm up round."
"So what does that mean?" Tim asks.
"It means you're going home. It means you're going to go to sleep. It means…" she flips through her calendar, "that unless the contractions pick up before then, come 8:00 AM on June 18th you two are going to come in here, and I'm going to deliver Kelly."
"It means a c-section," Abby said, very sad.
"Yes. She's probably about four, four and a half pounds now, and your placenta hasn't moved. It's not going to. With where your placenta is, this kind of warm up labor isn't a major risk for hemorrhage. Real contractions, the kind you need to push a baby out, they are."
"Okay, what else?" Tim asked.
"Pelvic rest from now until then. No sex." She looks at Tim and decides that extra clarification is probably in order. "No orgasms at all. No strenuous activity. No mildly exerting activity. If you don't have to do it, don't do it."
"Can I work?"
"Can you do your work sitting down? You don't have to spend all day, every day lying down, but I don't want you up and walking around all the time, too. So, it's an honest question, if you go to work, will you stay sitting down? If you can say yes to that, then you can go to work."
"How much walking around can I do?"
Dr. Draz thinks about it, realizing that if she comes up with a specific number Tim will get Abby a pedometer to measure it, making sure she takes not one step more than that, but if she's vague about it it'll just panic them worse. "Call it a thousand steps a day, give or take a bit. And the lower you can get that number the better, and no, days aren't cumulative. You do seven hundred steps one day, you do not get to do thirteen hundred the next.
"How about the pool?"
"If you mean, 'Can I go to the pool and lay around in the water feeling cool and not hurting?' Yes. Go, do, enjoy. Anything that helps you stay comfortable is a good thing. If you mean, 'Can I dive and swim laps,' no.
"If your water breaks, you come in. If you have more than three hours in a row of contractions every ten minutes, you come in. If you start bleeding, you come in, immediately."
"Okay."
Dr. Draz checked her calendar again. "We've got an appointment tomorrow afternoon. We'll cancel that. We'll schedule for the 8th, if that works for you?"
They both nod. Like either of them is going to say, "Nope, too busy. We'll just skip it and hope for the best."
"We'll do another one on the 12th, and one more on the 17th, and if everything remains on track, 'round about 10:00 AM on the 18th you'll be holding Kelly."
That takes Tim's breath away. Just that level of specific, this is going to happen when and how, hit him really hard. He's holding onto Abby, and squeezes her tight while inhaling fast.
"Wow."
Dr. Draz grins. "Yeah. So get dressed. Go home. Rest. Come back if the contractions get regular. It's not likely, but it's possible this time tomorrow we'll have Kelly out."
The ride home is quiet. Very quiet.
They get to a stop sign and Tim gently strokes her face. She turns into the caress and kisses his palm.
"How's your back feeling?"
"Just regular sore right now."
"Okay."
Two more minutes and they're home. He crosses to her side of the car to open the door for her and give her a hand out, but leaves her maternity bag in the car, not feeling very certain about the whole go to sleep and everything will just keep going on like before thing.
By that point it really was go to bed time. So they headed to their bedroom, and started the traditional nightly routine of settling down.
He knows this flavor of silence. She's scared. Really scared.
They get into bed and he curls around her, holding her close, her back snug against his chest, his arm under her neck, and his other hand resting on Kelly's baby bump. "Talk to me?"
"I'm so scared."
"I know." He kisses her shoulder. Having a pretty deep basket of irrational fears of his own, he's not about to call her out on hers. But he doesn't want her panicked, either. "But it's going to be all right."
"You don't know that! And even if it is 'all right,' we're still defining all right as Dr. Draz slicing me open."
"I know."
There's anger and irritation under the fear when she says, "And look, I know why we're doing this. I get it. I understand that it's safer to go in, get her out, and get everything taken care of fast. I get not wanting to have uncontrollable bleeding. Okay, I get it. I do. But I'm still scared. And I hate being scared because it's stupid, but I'm still scared and it's still my body that's going to get cut open. It's my spine they're going to shove a needle into. Something goes wrong with this, I may never walk again, may never feel anything below my chest. Lots of women end up with pain shooting down one leg for the rest of their lives after a slightly messed up epidural and a really messed up one..." She shakes her head, and he squeezed her a little tighter.
Tim thought for a moment, holding her, stroking her stomach, chin resting on her shoulder. "General anesthetic?"
She sounds annoyed, not at him, mostly at the idea that there really isn't a better option than an epidural. "More risk for Kelly. The epidural is safer for both of us, and I'll come out of it faster… I know that… But I've still got to sit there and let them shove a needle into my spine. And if I'm not perfectly still or if something gets messed up…"
"I'll be with you."
"Not for that part. Before and after, yeah. But they don't let the Dad in for the epidural."
"Oh." He hadn't known that, and the idea of having to sit out there and wait while someone sticks a needle into Abby's spine hits him pretty hard, too. He's realizing that's not going to be a fun couple of minutes for either of them.
She seems to understand him finally really getting that and says, "Yeah."
He's not sure what to say, so he holds onto her, snuggling her close to him, and hopes his touch is comforting.
"At least we know what's going to happen."
She shrugs at that. Yes, that's a bit of a comfort. Instead of a huge host of unknowns, for example trying a vaginal delivery and ending up hemorrhaging is now off the list of potential outcomes, there's a pretty specific list of unknowns, and a good, hard deadline two weeks from now.
"And we know it's not going to happen any later than the 18th."
She nods.
"Get to see her in not more than two weeks. This time, two weeks from now, we'll be in the hospital, holding her. Maybe you'll be nursing. Maybe we'll be snoozing. But this time two weeks from now, she'll be out."
That gets a little smile. "I know. And I want it. And I can't wait. And I'm still scared."
He kisses her again. "I'd make it better or take it from you if I could."
"I know."
Next
Chapter 225: June 4th
June 4th Jimmy and Breena had their Nuchal Fold test scheduled for the late afternoon.
Tim and Abby took off for it, too.
If there was bad news, they wanted to be there, able to comfort right away.
And if it was good news, well, that's even better when shared.
Same place/different placeSo, instead of sitting in their own OB's office (next appointment, tomorrow afternoon) they're in a different OB's office.Tim's thinking there's got to be a warehouse somewhere that sells OB office waiting rooms. The shape's a little different, and the colors are taupe and mauve instead of taupe and cream, but this is pretty much the exact same place, down to the same magazines.
"You'd think an OB's office would have better chairs," Abby says to him.
They're on this little sofa-like thing. It might be a love seat or a settee, Tim doesn't know precisely what the difference between those things is. She's sitting next to him, back to him, as he rubs gently over her low back and hips. They've been hurting on and off all day, and usually sitting down helps with that, but today's just being obnoxious and it's not really helping at all.
It felt like a lot of waiting. It always does.
"You think they're okay?" Tim asks her.
"Yeah." She squeezes his hand, and maybe she's not sounding all that certain, after all, it didn't seem like it took this long when they got their Nuchal Fold test done, but…
They've got to be okay. They just have to. Please!
All smilesWhen Jimmy and Breena came out, all smiles and soul deep relief, Tim felt the grin spread across his face, and saw Abby hop (well, if she was less pregnant it would have been a hop, it was more of a lurch) up enthusiastically to hug them both.
When they got home, after a very happy, very fun, almost giddy dinner out, she flipped on the TV and settled in front of it, kneeling behind the exercise ball, leaning against it, rocking gently.
"I just can't seem to shake this," she said, forearms crossed over the top of the ball, her head against them. Yes, dinner had been a blast, but her back just kept aching. Not all the time, but enough so that it was really annoying.
"You're pregnant."
She just looks up from the ball at him, flashing her so done with you look. "Thanks, that's something I somehow wasn't aware of."
Tim realized that might have been unnecessarily poking the porcupine, so he retreats. "Sorry. Captain Obvious here. You want me to get you some Tylenol?"
"Yes."
He was back a minute later with a glass of ice water and two Tylenol. "What do you want to watch?"
"Don't care. Just want to veg."
"Okay. Want me to rub your back some more?"
"Please."
He sat cross-legged behind her, pressing his palms into her sacrum.
She sighed. "That helps. It's been coming and going all day."
"Umm…" He's not really listening, just hearing her voice, paying attention to his hands on her skin, finding the tight spots and working on them.
"Like…" Her voice trailed off as he hit something especially good. "Oh, that's nice."
He smiled, happy to have found a good spot.
"It's not like it's knives in my back or anything. I mean, when I'd get working or paying attention to something else, it'd kind of go away, but it just kept coming back."
He nodded. He'd had that kind of pain before. Low grade yuck that you can banish to the background by keeping your brain busy and then as soon as you don't have something else to pay attention to it jumps back to the foreground.
"A few times, I'd be loading up samples, and I'd have to stop for a minute, but then it'd ease up, and I'd go back to it… Oh, holy shit…"
"Abby?" He was getting a little worried because that 'Oh, holy shit' didn't sound happy.
"I am too stupid to let out of the house. I'm pregnant. With low back pain. That's been coming and going all day."
Tim's eyes went wide as what that was dawned on him. "You mean contractions."
"Yeah. Sometimes you feel them in your low back."
"Well, how many, how long, when?" He sounded awfully panicky as he says that.
"I don't know. All day?"
He leaped up, getting ready to grab the go bag and head directly to the hospital at whatever the highest rate of speed his car can obtain is.
"I don't think we need to race to the hospital this second."
He looked at her like she's insane. "I think we do. I think we need to be there right now!"
"You remember Dr. Draz saying that eventually I'd start to get some contractions, and that that was when we should make sure that we had an appointment for the next day?"
Okay, yeah, he did remember her saying that. And they do, in fact, have an appointment for the next day. But he was under the impression she meant something different by 'some contractions' than what Abby's been having, so he says, "Yeah. Braxton-Hicks contractions. That's like one here, one there, maybe a few more and then they stop. Not on and off all day."
Abby thought about that for a second, and seemed to be focusing on how long she's been feeling this way. "Okay, good point, help me up."
"Thank you."
They live three miles from St. Francis Hospital. Normal drive time (assuming you follow the speed limits) is about seventeen minutes. Tim got them there so fast Abby hadn't even gotten off of holding for the OB that was on call with their practice.
So, it was about nine seconds after walking in that chatting on the phone became something of a moot point, because they were able to see Dr. Draz face to face.
"Lucky thing I'm on call for tonight. Tell me what's going on."
So Abby did.
"How often have they been happening?"
"I don't really know. Didn't put it together until five minutes ago. But, maybe three times an hour for like the last eight hours, maybe all day."
"Okay. Let's get you in a gown and checked out."
This time Dr. Draz did the ultrasound herself, and a quick internal exam as well, took off her gloves, then spent another moment feeling Abby's belly.
"You're at negative two station," she said as she helped Abby sit up. "Which means Kelly's as far away from the cervix as she can get. Half-way effaced, so that means your cervix is thinning out, and you're one centimeter dilated. My guess is this is just the starting round. Sort of like when you turn the key and the engine revs a few times but nothing happens. Your placenta is still right near the cervix." She checked her notes. "You're at thirty-five weeks and four days right now, and we'd really like to see Kelly stay in there until thirty-seven weeks, thirty-eight is better."
"Well, yeah, it probably is, but Kelly seems to have a different opinion about that," Abby said.
"And well she might. But my guess, having seen this roughly seventeen thousand times, is that this is going to peter out. Tomorrow there'll be no contractions. Usually the baby's all the way down before your body gets really serious about trying to get her out. This is just a warm up round."
"So what does that mean?" Tim asks.
"It means you're going home. It means you're going to go to sleep. It means…" she flips through her calendar, "that unless the contractions pick up before then, come 8:00 AM on June 18th you two are going to come in here, and I'm going to deliver Kelly."
"It means a c-section," Abby said, very sad.
"Yes. She's probably about four, four and a half pounds now, and your placenta hasn't moved. It's not going to. With where your placenta is, this kind of warm up labor isn't a major risk for hemorrhage. Real contractions, the kind you need to push a baby out, they are."
"Okay, what else?" Tim asked.
"Pelvic rest from now until then. No sex." She looks at Tim and decides that extra clarification is probably in order. "No orgasms at all. No strenuous activity. No mildly exerting activity. If you don't have to do it, don't do it."
"Can I work?"
"Can you do your work sitting down? You don't have to spend all day, every day lying down, but I don't want you up and walking around all the time, too. So, it's an honest question, if you go to work, will you stay sitting down? If you can say yes to that, then you can go to work."
"How much walking around can I do?"
Dr. Draz thinks about it, realizing that if she comes up with a specific number Tim will get Abby a pedometer to measure it, making sure she takes not one step more than that, but if she's vague about it it'll just panic them worse. "Call it a thousand steps a day, give or take a bit. And the lower you can get that number the better, and no, days aren't cumulative. You do seven hundred steps one day, you do not get to do thirteen hundred the next.
"How about the pool?"
"If you mean, 'Can I go to the pool and lay around in the water feeling cool and not hurting?' Yes. Go, do, enjoy. Anything that helps you stay comfortable is a good thing. If you mean, 'Can I dive and swim laps,' no.
"If your water breaks, you come in. If you have more than three hours in a row of contractions every ten minutes, you come in. If you start bleeding, you come in, immediately."
"Okay."
Dr. Draz checked her calendar again. "We've got an appointment tomorrow afternoon. We'll cancel that. We'll schedule for the 8th, if that works for you?"
They both nod. Like either of them is going to say, "Nope, too busy. We'll just skip it and hope for the best."
"We'll do another one on the 12th, and one more on the 17th, and if everything remains on track, 'round about 10:00 AM on the 18th you'll be holding Kelly."
That takes Tim's breath away. Just that level of specific, this is going to happen when and how, hit him really hard. He's holding onto Abby, and squeezes her tight while inhaling fast.
"Wow."
Dr. Draz grins. "Yeah. So get dressed. Go home. Rest. Come back if the contractions get regular. It's not likely, but it's possible this time tomorrow we'll have Kelly out."
The ride home is quiet. Very quiet.
They get to a stop sign and Tim gently strokes her face. She turns into the caress and kisses his palm.
"How's your back feeling?"
"Just regular sore right now."
"Okay."
Two more minutes and they're home. He crosses to her side of the car to open the door for her and give her a hand out, but leaves her maternity bag in the car, not feeling very certain about the whole go to sleep and everything will just keep going on like before thing.
By that point it really was go to bed time. So they headed to their bedroom, and started the traditional nightly routine of settling down.
He knows this flavor of silence. She's scared. Really scared.
They get into bed and he curls around her, holding her close, her back snug against his chest, his arm under her neck, and his other hand resting on Kelly's baby bump. "Talk to me?"
"I'm so scared."
"I know." He kisses her shoulder. Having a pretty deep basket of irrational fears of his own, he's not about to call her out on hers. But he doesn't want her panicked, either. "But it's going to be all right."
"You don't know that! And even if it is 'all right,' we're still defining all right as Dr. Draz slicing me open."
"I know."
There's anger and irritation under the fear when she says, "And look, I know why we're doing this. I get it. I understand that it's safer to go in, get her out, and get everything taken care of fast. I get not wanting to have uncontrollable bleeding. Okay, I get it. I do. But I'm still scared. And I hate being scared because it's stupid, but I'm still scared and it's still my body that's going to get cut open. It's my spine they're going to shove a needle into. Something goes wrong with this, I may never walk again, may never feel anything below my chest. Lots of women end up with pain shooting down one leg for the rest of their lives after a slightly messed up epidural and a really messed up one..." She shakes her head, and he squeezed her a little tighter.
Tim thought for a moment, holding her, stroking her stomach, chin resting on her shoulder. "General anesthetic?"
She sounds annoyed, not at him, mostly at the idea that there really isn't a better option than an epidural. "More risk for Kelly. The epidural is safer for both of us, and I'll come out of it faster… I know that… But I've still got to sit there and let them shove a needle into my spine. And if I'm not perfectly still or if something gets messed up…"
"I'll be with you."
"Not for that part. Before and after, yeah. But they don't let the Dad in for the epidural."
"Oh." He hadn't known that, and the idea of having to sit out there and wait while someone sticks a needle into Abby's spine hits him pretty hard, too. He's realizing that's not going to be a fun couple of minutes for either of them.
She seems to understand him finally really getting that and says, "Yeah."
He's not sure what to say, so he holds onto her, snuggling her close to him, and hopes his touch is comforting.
"At least we know what's going to happen."
She shrugs at that. Yes, that's a bit of a comfort. Instead of a huge host of unknowns, for example trying a vaginal delivery and ending up hemorrhaging is now off the list of potential outcomes, there's a pretty specific list of unknowns, and a good, hard deadline two weeks from now.
"And we know it's not going to happen any later than the 18th."
She nods.
"Get to see her in not more than two weeks. This time, two weeks from now, we'll be in the hospital, holding her. Maybe you'll be nursing. Maybe we'll be snoozing. But this time two weeks from now, she'll be out."
That gets a little smile. "I know. And I want it. And I can't wait. And I'm still scared."
He kisses her again. "I'd make it better or take it from you if I could."
"I know."
Next
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 224
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 224: The Lab
Fume hood, Major Mass SpecJune 1, 2015 marked the first of the major work changes. The lab was no longer Abby's and Abby's alone.
While it's true that the Navy Yard hosts the premier MCRT and the hub of all of the ins and outs of NCIS, it didn't host the best lab. (Not saying anything about the talent of the Navy Yard lab, just the physical layout and technology.) The best lab was at Norfolk.
And it's not that Norfolk was any sort of a major NCIS hub. Yes, there are tons of Navy Personnel out of Norfolk and Hampton Roads, but not so much as to require their very own state-of-the-art lab with three techs.
What Norfolk's lab did was the processing of any trace for any Agent Afloat floating closer to the east coast of the United States than Europe.
So, when Sequester hit, and Vance had to sit down with the NCIS Accounting Department and find the least painful ways to tighten his budget, one thing that stuck out was he had two NCIS bases less than 200 miles apart. One of them already covered any major crimes that happened in the territory of the other, and while it's true the other had the better lab, he could move the equipment and people to DC, shut down Norfolk, and save fourteen million dollars a year by consolidating.
After all, if you're already floating five hundred miles east of Norfolk, the added half hour of helio time to get your trace to DC instead of Norfolk really isn't an issue.
Plus, since Dearing's bomb more or less went off right in front of the lab, when they rebuilt that area, a few extra storage spaces had been added, and converting them into extra lab space only required knocking down some walls, installing better ventilation and lighting, and moving the lab from Norfolk up to DC.
The whiteboard, soon to be covered with
"work" stuff.So on June 1st, six months after it should have happened, (Because one thing politicians are good at is getting their own pet projects funding extensions, and Virginia's senators might not agree on a whole lot, but keeping plush Federal jobs in their state is one of those things, so miraculously additional funding for six more months showed up out of the ethers.) Abby McGee walked (waddled, it's really hard to look particularly dignified and in command when you're so pregnant you feel like the kid is dangling between your knees) into what was no longer her lab, and got ready to start a new job.
Boss.
Dworkin, Corwin, and Benedict have been transferred up. Technically she and Benedict have the same rank, but she's got seniority, so it's still her lab.
But it's also not her lab. It's no longer her space. It's not home away from home. Now it's just the place where she works. And that, along with other voices, the lack of music, and a collection of little dohickies that aren't hers is disconcerting.
And she's no longer Abbs. Not down here. Not anymore. She's not a pet. She's not the NCIS mascot. Not to them. She's… McGee. Which feels kind of weird. She's gotten used to it being her last name, but until today, no one besides Leon (and occasionally Tim when he's feeling frisky) calls her that.
But now… "McGee, where do you want…" "McGee, is it okay…" "McGee, how about we…"
Finally she'd had enough of that. "Okay, all of you, right here." And her new techs (Lab rats? Assistants? God, she hates this.) gathered around.
Lab guide"Look. I know you all call each other by your last names, but I'm Abby. And, unless you really hate it, I'm calling you three by your first names, too. There's one guy I call by his last name, and that's Gibbs. And none of you are Gibbs, so unless you hate your first names, I'm using them. Plus, my husband works here, and works down here," She points at her second computer, though it's occurring to her that might not be as easy to do, what with three other people down here now. "and everyone around here already calls him McGee, because he's been McGee his whole life and I've only been McGee since November."
They nod. "Okay, Abby." Dworkin… Roger, says.
"Good."
She hates the fact that Roger, Eva (Corwin), and Tom (Benedict) are all lugging and unpacking but she's not. It's not that she's doing nothing, but, in that she can't move anything heavy, and right now, everything is heavy, so instead of moving she's keeping track of the new inventory.
And yeah, it's kind of neat that they're slapping bar codes on everything and scanning them all in, but still, it feels lazy to be the one waving the scanner around when they're all carrying in heavy boxes.
And while she hadn't enjoyed the period while they were getting the storage space up to lab capacity, (they tried to keep the dust under control, but she did end up with a few contamination issues) she would have to admit that the extra space is nice.
And, okay, yeah, it's not exactly painful to admit that Norfolk did have all the cool toys and she can't wait to play with them.
Tim came down in the afternoon, was introduced to everyone, ("Tom, Roger, Eva, this is McGee!") and also came to the conclusion that just popping down to do whatever it was he wanted workwise wasn't going to happen anymore.
"His" computer.Mainly, he'd gotten down there, sat at what he thinks of as "his" computer (after all, it's got the little black hearts she put on the keyboard for him) and noticed that it was already turned on, and working, and running a search.
And, if that computer's already working, then, well… It's doing lab work, for the lab, in the lab, so pre-empting that to do casework isn't cool.
So he looks around at four scientists all mucking about with science-y stuff, and realizes that the days of him being the back-up lab tech are over.
If he's ever down here to read Major Mass Spec, run trace, help with an experiment, or do the computer stuff, it means something's gone very wrong.
And if he's down here doing his job, just sharing the space with her, then one of the other people down here aren't doing their job.
So he kisses Abby, smiles a little sadly at her, and she sees it, understands, nods and smiles back, also a little sad, and heads up to MTAC, where he'll commandeer one of their computers so he can work faster.
They weren't on an active case, so it wasn't too hard to get out for dinner at a reasonable time. So they were heading toward food (neither of them felt like cooking) when Tim asked, "So, how is it?"
"Honestly, weird with a side of feeling left out."
He doesn't say anything, but his look gets across tell me more.
"I imagine I'm feeling a lot like Draga's gonna feel when he starts up. They're a team. They've got systems and rhythms and know how to read each other and how everyone works. And I'm not part of that."
"You'll get there."
"Sort of. I'll get, at most, a month with them, then three off." NCIS offers twelve weeks of maternity leave, and as of this point, Abby was planning on taking all of them. "By the time I get back, they'll have the new lab all set, and I'll be the outsider, in my own space."
"Sorry."
She shakes her head. Nothing she can do about it. "At least I know none of these guys are psychos."
"True."
"And they do good work."
"Also true."
"And with four of us, we'll have trace processed faster, and I'll be able to get done working at a reasonable time more often."
"Yep."
"So why does this suck?"
He squeezed her hand and gave her an understanding smile. "It'll get better. You all looked pretty happy setting up the scanning electron microscope."
"That was fun. It can actually get micron level detail."
"That's cool."
"Yeah, it is."
[image error] At her most collaborative.June 3rd Team Gibbs caught a case, and for the first time ever, the new lab set into action.
And, it was bumpy. Abby's used to doing everything, not delegating. At her absolute most collaborative, she works with Tim, the guy she can read at a glance and the only person on earth she can type in tandem with on the same keyboard. Occasionally she had deigned to allow other specialists into her lab to help her with something, and generally they work on separate parts of a project together.
But breaking down a task, giving everyone a different part, actually delegating, that's not in her skillset.
Likewise, she's got her evidence handling system in place, and to say that it's complicated and works only for her is something of an understatement.
And the worst part is, she can see this isn't working. At all. So it's got to change. She can't just sort of share a space with them, let them handle Afloat business, and her Navy Yard business. They've got to be a team.
"Okay." The other three look up at her. They'd been milling around, sort of watching her, because she wasn't really letting them into the job. "How do you guys do this?"
"Tom's on intake. He makes sure everything is accepted, registered, cataloged, and then sorted into what we'll be doing with it. Eva handles prints and computer searches. I do the testing, and when Tom's done with intake he helps out with whichever one of us needs the help," Roger answers.
"Okay, who does mock-ups, re-creations, blood spatter, and the like?"
The three of them just look at each other. "We don't," Roger answers.
"You don't?"
"No. The medical guys on board handle blood spatter. And we don't do mock-ups or re-creations of the crime scenes."
"Okay. Then I'm on that if need be. How about audio or visual processing?"
"Last time we had any of that, we sent it to you," Eva said.
"Good point. I'm on that, too. So, I'm thinking for right now you guys keep doing it your way. I'll float in and out and lend a hand on whatever needs extra hands, and if we've got any of the stuff you don't do, I'll handle it."
They nod.
"When I get back from leave, we're going to start from the ground up and figure out how to do this the most efficient way. It sounds like you've got a good system in place, but any system can get better, so we'll figure out what that is."
Tom smiled at that. "We like better."
Abby smiled back at him, and yeah, if he knew her better, he'd know that was a forced smile, but she's the boss and it's her job to make this team work. "I like better, too."
Next
Chapter 224: The Lab
Fume hood, Major Mass SpecJune 1, 2015 marked the first of the major work changes. The lab was no longer Abby's and Abby's alone.While it's true that the Navy Yard hosts the premier MCRT and the hub of all of the ins and outs of NCIS, it didn't host the best lab. (Not saying anything about the talent of the Navy Yard lab, just the physical layout and technology.) The best lab was at Norfolk.
And it's not that Norfolk was any sort of a major NCIS hub. Yes, there are tons of Navy Personnel out of Norfolk and Hampton Roads, but not so much as to require their very own state-of-the-art lab with three techs.
What Norfolk's lab did was the processing of any trace for any Agent Afloat floating closer to the east coast of the United States than Europe.
So, when Sequester hit, and Vance had to sit down with the NCIS Accounting Department and find the least painful ways to tighten his budget, one thing that stuck out was he had two NCIS bases less than 200 miles apart. One of them already covered any major crimes that happened in the territory of the other, and while it's true the other had the better lab, he could move the equipment and people to DC, shut down Norfolk, and save fourteen million dollars a year by consolidating.
After all, if you're already floating five hundred miles east of Norfolk, the added half hour of helio time to get your trace to DC instead of Norfolk really isn't an issue.
Plus, since Dearing's bomb more or less went off right in front of the lab, when they rebuilt that area, a few extra storage spaces had been added, and converting them into extra lab space only required knocking down some walls, installing better ventilation and lighting, and moving the lab from Norfolk up to DC.
The whiteboard, soon to be covered with"work" stuff.So on June 1st, six months after it should have happened, (Because one thing politicians are good at is getting their own pet projects funding extensions, and Virginia's senators might not agree on a whole lot, but keeping plush Federal jobs in their state is one of those things, so miraculously additional funding for six more months showed up out of the ethers.) Abby McGee walked (waddled, it's really hard to look particularly dignified and in command when you're so pregnant you feel like the kid is dangling between your knees) into what was no longer her lab, and got ready to start a new job.
Boss.
Dworkin, Corwin, and Benedict have been transferred up. Technically she and Benedict have the same rank, but she's got seniority, so it's still her lab.
But it's also not her lab. It's no longer her space. It's not home away from home. Now it's just the place where she works. And that, along with other voices, the lack of music, and a collection of little dohickies that aren't hers is disconcerting.
And she's no longer Abbs. Not down here. Not anymore. She's not a pet. She's not the NCIS mascot. Not to them. She's… McGee. Which feels kind of weird. She's gotten used to it being her last name, but until today, no one besides Leon (and occasionally Tim when he's feeling frisky) calls her that.
But now… "McGee, where do you want…" "McGee, is it okay…" "McGee, how about we…"
Finally she'd had enough of that. "Okay, all of you, right here." And her new techs (Lab rats? Assistants? God, she hates this.) gathered around.
Lab guide"Look. I know you all call each other by your last names, but I'm Abby. And, unless you really hate it, I'm calling you three by your first names, too. There's one guy I call by his last name, and that's Gibbs. And none of you are Gibbs, so unless you hate your first names, I'm using them. Plus, my husband works here, and works down here," She points at her second computer, though it's occurring to her that might not be as easy to do, what with three other people down here now. "and everyone around here already calls him McGee, because he's been McGee his whole life and I've only been McGee since November."They nod. "Okay, Abby." Dworkin… Roger, says.
"Good."
She hates the fact that Roger, Eva (Corwin), and Tom (Benedict) are all lugging and unpacking but she's not. It's not that she's doing nothing, but, in that she can't move anything heavy, and right now, everything is heavy, so instead of moving she's keeping track of the new inventory.
And yeah, it's kind of neat that they're slapping bar codes on everything and scanning them all in, but still, it feels lazy to be the one waving the scanner around when they're all carrying in heavy boxes.
And while she hadn't enjoyed the period while they were getting the storage space up to lab capacity, (they tried to keep the dust under control, but she did end up with a few contamination issues) she would have to admit that the extra space is nice.
And, okay, yeah, it's not exactly painful to admit that Norfolk did have all the cool toys and she can't wait to play with them.
Tim came down in the afternoon, was introduced to everyone, ("Tom, Roger, Eva, this is McGee!") and also came to the conclusion that just popping down to do whatever it was he wanted workwise wasn't going to happen anymore.
"His" computer.Mainly, he'd gotten down there, sat at what he thinks of as "his" computer (after all, it's got the little black hearts she put on the keyboard for him) and noticed that it was already turned on, and working, and running a search.And, if that computer's already working, then, well… It's doing lab work, for the lab, in the lab, so pre-empting that to do casework isn't cool.
So he looks around at four scientists all mucking about with science-y stuff, and realizes that the days of him being the back-up lab tech are over.
If he's ever down here to read Major Mass Spec, run trace, help with an experiment, or do the computer stuff, it means something's gone very wrong.
And if he's down here doing his job, just sharing the space with her, then one of the other people down here aren't doing their job.
So he kisses Abby, smiles a little sadly at her, and she sees it, understands, nods and smiles back, also a little sad, and heads up to MTAC, where he'll commandeer one of their computers so he can work faster.
They weren't on an active case, so it wasn't too hard to get out for dinner at a reasonable time. So they were heading toward food (neither of them felt like cooking) when Tim asked, "So, how is it?"
"Honestly, weird with a side of feeling left out."
He doesn't say anything, but his look gets across tell me more.
"I imagine I'm feeling a lot like Draga's gonna feel when he starts up. They're a team. They've got systems and rhythms and know how to read each other and how everyone works. And I'm not part of that."
"You'll get there."
"Sort of. I'll get, at most, a month with them, then three off." NCIS offers twelve weeks of maternity leave, and as of this point, Abby was planning on taking all of them. "By the time I get back, they'll have the new lab all set, and I'll be the outsider, in my own space."
"Sorry."
She shakes her head. Nothing she can do about it. "At least I know none of these guys are psychos."
"True."
"And they do good work."
"Also true."
"And with four of us, we'll have trace processed faster, and I'll be able to get done working at a reasonable time more often."
"Yep."
"So why does this suck?"
He squeezed her hand and gave her an understanding smile. "It'll get better. You all looked pretty happy setting up the scanning electron microscope."
"That was fun. It can actually get micron level detail."
"That's cool."
"Yeah, it is."
[image error] At her most collaborative.June 3rd Team Gibbs caught a case, and for the first time ever, the new lab set into action.
And, it was bumpy. Abby's used to doing everything, not delegating. At her absolute most collaborative, she works with Tim, the guy she can read at a glance and the only person on earth she can type in tandem with on the same keyboard. Occasionally she had deigned to allow other specialists into her lab to help her with something, and generally they work on separate parts of a project together.
But breaking down a task, giving everyone a different part, actually delegating, that's not in her skillset.
Likewise, she's got her evidence handling system in place, and to say that it's complicated and works only for her is something of an understatement.
And the worst part is, she can see this isn't working. At all. So it's got to change. She can't just sort of share a space with them, let them handle Afloat business, and her Navy Yard business. They've got to be a team.
"Okay." The other three look up at her. They'd been milling around, sort of watching her, because she wasn't really letting them into the job. "How do you guys do this?"
"Tom's on intake. He makes sure everything is accepted, registered, cataloged, and then sorted into what we'll be doing with it. Eva handles prints and computer searches. I do the testing, and when Tom's done with intake he helps out with whichever one of us needs the help," Roger answers.
"Okay, who does mock-ups, re-creations, blood spatter, and the like?"
The three of them just look at each other. "We don't," Roger answers.
"You don't?"
"No. The medical guys on board handle blood spatter. And we don't do mock-ups or re-creations of the crime scenes."
"Okay. Then I'm on that if need be. How about audio or visual processing?"
"Last time we had any of that, we sent it to you," Eva said.
"Good point. I'm on that, too. So, I'm thinking for right now you guys keep doing it your way. I'll float in and out and lend a hand on whatever needs extra hands, and if we've got any of the stuff you don't do, I'll handle it."
They nod.
"When I get back from leave, we're going to start from the ground up and figure out how to do this the most efficient way. It sounds like you've got a good system in place, but any system can get better, so we'll figure out what that is."
Tom smiled at that. "We like better."
Abby smiled back at him, and yeah, if he knew her better, he'd know that was a forced smile, but she's the boss and it's her job to make this team work. "I like better, too."
Next
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 223
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 223: Memorial Day Weekend
On Friday, after the meal, when they were all hanging out at Tony and Ziva's, Abby was sitting, straddling one of the kitchen chairs while Tim rubbed her back and hips.
Kelly's due in five weeks, so everything loosens up and hips and back hurt, but the fact that it's normal doesn't make it feel any better.
Jimmy was watching them while talking with Ziva, but when that bit of conversation wrapped, he looked at them and said, "You know, our gym has a pool. It opens tomorrow. We," he gestures to let the rest of the group know this is an invite for everyone, though Abby's the main reason he's thinking this, "could go tomorrow or Sunday or Monday if we don't get called in for a case."
It's Memorial Day weekend. They are on call for this one. Gibbs set it so they'd be off Fourth of July, thinking that it was likely his team would appreciate the off time. After Molly, it was pretty hard to get his guys to pay attention to the work at hand. So, assuming Kelly shows up on time, not having to worry about a case to go with new baby struck him as a good idea.
Okay, that's bull. He set it for him. He doesn't want to have to be worried about a case. Kelly shows up, and he wants to be able to take off and enjoy it. He's planning on being there more or less all the time the first week or so. More and more this is looking like Kelly's coming out by c-section, so an extra set of hands around the house will be a very good thing.
The fact that it works out well for the rest of the team is just a nice side-effect.
Neither Tim nor Abby appears to get why a pool would be a good thing. Tim's looking at Jimmy like he's insane because, while it's true he's got nothing against swimming, cold and wet is still awfully low on his list of fun activities. Abby's thinking about how little she wants to try and get into a bathing suit, let alone waddle around almost naked with everyone looking at her.
Jimmy sees their confusion and he looks at Breena, shaking his head, flashing her a look that says, Amateurs. She grins back at him, veteran parents sharing a kind laugh at the newbies.
Jimmy scooted over to kneel in front of Abby. "Abby, in a pool you're weightless. Nothing hurts in a pool. And it's cool. No more hot flash."
"Oh." And the light dawns on Abby and with it a smile of delight spread across her face.
"Yeah, I would have lived in the indoor pool the last six weeks with Molly if I could have. Feels so good you don't care how you look. Trust me, pool this weekend is a good idea."
"Then take me to the pool!"
Tony and Ziva were in. Pool sounded great to them. Ducky and Penny decided no on the pool, but did offer to make dinner for everyone and have them over that night. Gibbs didn't say anything one way or the other.
'Course, these days, Gibbs isn't talking a whole lot. At least, if he can avoid it. It's been a pretty intense six weeks for him. But as things slide back into a new version of normal, the loss of his dad keeps creeping back to the front of his mind. He's functional but sad. And they get that. If anyone gets that, it's this group.
But before heading off, Tim pulled him into Tony and Ziva's kitchen.
"Come with us on Monday."
He did that half-shrug, don't want to commit to anything gesture.
"Sunshine and playing with your girls is good for you. You're spending plenty of time in your basement, time to get in the light for a little bit, an hour, two if you can take it. If you want, you can call it bootcamp and make Jimmy and I swim laps, but come with us. Splash with the girls, snuggle Molly, lay out and suck up some vitamin D. It'll help."
Gibbs sighs. "Fine."
"Good."
"You're both doing laps."
"Of course."
It's cold. Really freaking cold. Back when he was a kid, Tim used to listen to Bill Cosby stand up recordings, and one of the stories he told was about jumping in a lake with water that was like 34 degrees Fahrenheit, and getting into the outdoor pool at Jimmy's gym is reminding him very strongly of that story.
Of course, the rest of the crew seems to be liking it.
And Abby… she's ecstatic. She's been running hot for a while now, and apparently being dropped into a vat of what is basically liquid snow is making her really happy.
"I love the pool! The pool is awesome! You can take me out again when labor starts! I'm not moving 'til then."
That makes Tim laugh. "You want us to get a pool membership?"
"Yes!" she says, ecstatic at the idea.
He smiles and nods at that.
Officially, Breena's not pregnant yet. Though everyone in this group has figured out that she is, but those who haven't been officially told are doing a good job of pretending to have not noticed. Nuchal Fold test is 4th of June. But while the others are playing in the pool, she's lying on a lounge. Looks like she might be napping, but Tim's thinking she might not be. There's a bit too much tension in her face for napping.
Like with Molly and Jon, the Morning Sickness Fairy has come to visit, and is hammering her, hard.
He kissed Abby's ear and said, "I'm gonna check on Breena. I don't think she's feeling well. Offer her a ride home if she wants to go."
Abby nodded at that and smiled, also knowing that Tim's looking for an excuse to get out of the water. Just because she feels like her body's running at 101 all the time doesn't mean he finds being stuck in cold water particularly comfortable.
He headed to the lounge next to Breena and started drying off. "How are you doing?"
She opened her eyes to look at him. "Blech."
"Sorry to hear it. You want me to give you a lift home?"
"Won't be any better at home. The meds I'm on keep me from throwing up, but it doesn't make the nausea go away."
He nodded at that and sat on the edge of her lounge chair. "Give me your wrist."
"Tim?" she asked, rolling onto her side to face him.
Not having a good time, at all."The summer Ziva was in Israel, Tony took some off time, so it was just me and Gibbs, and we got called onto a case on the Regan, for a week, in heavy seas. I get sea sick. I get really sea sick. Lost eight pounds over the course of that week." He took her hand in his, eyeballed the size of her fingers, and found the spot on her wrist he was looking for, pressing his thumb gently into it. "Trust me, by the end of that week, I knew every nausea remedy on earth. Most of them don't work, but this one was… better than nothing."
"How does it work?" Breena asked, looking at her wrist in his hand.
"Three fingers down, inside of your wrist, between the tendons, gentle pressure until you feel better. There are a bunch of them, and if you want, I'll show them to you, but this is the easiest one to hit."
"And what does better than nothing mean?"
"Let me get a few hours of sleep every night."
"Better than nothing."
"Yeah. The medic tried to give me some anti-nausea meds, but I had to swallow them and keep 'em down. Didn't work."
"The stuff I'm on is a tablet that dissolves on the tongue. That's pretty nice. And I'm not getting dehydrated, so that's good too, but I still feel awful."
He held the point on her wrist, talking about the other ones, sympathizing, a little, over how awful being nauseous all the time is. After a minute, that conversation wore down.
"Can I ask you something?" Tim said to Breena.
"Sure."
He took a deep breath, not entirely sure if he wanted to do this, but… he didn't know the answer, and it was niggling at him, not the sort of thing he thought about a lot, especially not these last few weeks, but sometimes it would just sort of creep into his mind, like right now as he's sitting next to her holding her wrist, and he felt like he could get a better handle on this if he did get the answer, so…
"Abby tells me you and her talk about the four of us having sex."
Breena dressed for the pool.That got a bright, happy smile out of her. Apparently Breena liked talking about sex, because it looked like this was perking her up. "Yep."
Tim had a quick and firm mental discussion with his dick about how it was not going to notice this conversation or the fact that Breena's in a bikini, and it was really not going to notice the fact that she's smiling at the idea of having sex with him or that he's touching her, because he's wearing nothing but wet swim trunks and sunglasses, and if there's an outfit that does a worse job of concealing an erection, he doesn't know what it'd be.
He wasn't entirely sure if his dick was paying attention to him or not, but it didn't feel like it was getting past the first flush of thinking about getting hard, so that was okay.
"I understand why Abby and I have talked about it. She made it clear very early on that as long as we were both happy and comfortable that anything was on the table. It just had to be fair and both of us had to be part of it. As long as I was cool with another guy, she'd be cool with another girl. And we're both jealous enough, and I'm way more than straight enough that we knew it'd likely never happen. But we had that conversation, probably, given some of the stuff we like, needed to have it. What I don't get is how you and Jimmy got there."
She had a knowing smile on her face. "You mean, how did I go from 'no sex with anyone who isn't my husband' to 'hey, maybe our best friends would be fun, too'?"
"Um… yeah."
"I was fourteen and had a boyfriend I was completely in love with. Loved everything about him. Head to toes. One of the other girls in our class liked him, too, started a rumor that I'd been fooling around on him, and I saw how pissed he got. He beat the hell out of the guy I'd supposedly been fooling around with. Sheer luck, Doug, the other guy, didn't press charges."
Tim winced, but kept quiet, letting her keep telling the story.
"But I realized there was power in the idea of MINE. So I watched, and paid attention, and every guy I've met has had a MINE kick. Stronger in some guys, weaker in others, and I decided that there was something I could give my future husband, an act of love that'd rock his world. And I also knew that a guy who would respect me enough to move at my speed, a guy who would put his desire for sex on the shelf long enough to get to know me and make me his wife, a man who would fall in love with me, and not my body, was a man worthy of me. And a man who wouldn't pressure me, wouldn't belittle me, wouldn't try to make me feel bad for wanting to wait, was a man worthy to raise my daughters and the kind of man I'd want my sons to become." She was smiling at that, watching Jimmy, who was gently tossing Molly to Gibbs in the pool. They were all soaked, and Molly was shrieking with laughter.
Her eyes slid away from Molly, Gibbs, and Jimmy, back to Tim. "But it was never a sex is bad or icky or sinful and somehow marriage suddenly wipes it clean and makes it pure kind of thing." She sorted at that, derisive look on her face. "That's the stereotype, right? Frigid Christian virgin afraid to get dirty?"
She was looking at Tim like she expected an answer, so he nodded. More signaling keep talking than I agree with that.
"That's not me. Never was. Sure, I'm Christian, and I believe that we're all sinners, all the time, in all things. That's our nature, and through Christ's grace we are able to experience love and joy and peace. And what we do, whatever it may be, if it's an act of love, then it's okay. It's blessed by God because without Him we wouldn't be able to feel that love, because all love is a reflection of Him. Because love is how we know Him.
"And for the four of us, love isn't the problem. We've got love. Best I can see, the sticking point for the four of us is the whole MINE thing. Namely you and Jimmy have a somewhat different interpretation of how that works than Abby and I do.
"But, from what I can tell, Abby isn't any less yours because she's had sex with lots of other guys. Ziva isn't any less Tony's."
Tim nodded; he agreed with that.
"Because it's not sex that makes someone yours." And now he wasn't agreeing quite so much, but he was listening. "Because sex may be an act of love, but it's not love. And love isn't something that goes away. It doesn't break into pieces. You don't have less of it to give because you love someone else. You won't love Abby less when Kelly's born, you'll love her more, and you'll love Kelly more than you think you can possibly love anyone, and it all sort of wraps up into itself and makes both loves stronger and brighter."
Okay, that sounded good, too, he was nodding away.
"You don't love Abby less because you love Jimmy. You don't love Jimmy less because you love me or Tony or Ziva.
"And I've gotten to the point in my life where MINE when it comes to Jimmy isn't about sex. Not really. It's about love and trust and the life we've built and our home and family. And you and Abby don't threaten that. You're part of it. He wants to go off on his own and pick up some random 22-year-old with perky breasts and twenty-five inch waist…" Breena's eyes left his, and he knew she's looking at all of the pretty, young things in tiny bikinis wandering around the pool. "And I'll be pissed, big time, because that would be a violation of that trust and love." Her gaze returned to him, then flicked over to the water where Jimmy and Abby were playing with Molly, while Gibbs talked with Ziva, and Tony was about to leap in, cannonballing next to them. "But you and Abby? You held us when we mourned our son, carried us when the pain was too great to walk, and if there's any greater act of love than that, I don't know what it would be." She blinked, wiped away the tears, steadied her voice, and touched his fingers on her wrist. "Even that's about love and comforting each other. Anyway. If that love is ever expressed as sex, well, yeah, I'd like that." She smiled warm and a little flirty at Tim. "And I know you would, too."
He was about to speak when she gestured with her finger to let him know she wasn't quite done.
"I realize that all the love stuff may just be bull. I might be rationalizing this. Might just be horny. Might be curious. You three all tried other people, got to see what it was like. I haven't. But I do know this, I love Jimmy, body, soul, mind, any way you can love a man, I love him, and I'm never, ever going to do anything that hurts him. So, if he's not completely into this, too, then it's never going to happen. I love you and Abby, too, and I won't do anything to hurt you, either.
"So maybe this will stay a fantasy. Maybe it'll never go further than Abby and I dancing together slow and close to make you and Jimmy stare at us like you want to eat us alive. Maybe for the rest of our days we'll be dear friends who flirt a little too hard, hug each other a few seconds too long, dance a little too close, but we laugh and enjoy it, because it makes us feel sexy and good.
"And if that's all this ever is, that's fine! It's more than fine." She took his hand in hers and squeezed it. "I never thought I'd have friends like you and Abby. But I do think it's better that we're open about wanting each other, and choose, eyes open, to either explore that further or not, rather than pretend it's not there." She let go of him, and went back to watching the rest of the family playing.
"More than a year ago, Abby and I were dancing, and Ziva asked if the four of us were sleeping together, and that got me thinking about it. Jimmy's loved her forever. I liked you. She wanted us. You're hot for me. And I thought about how that could go. Secret fantasies, jealousy, Abby and I annoyed at each other, thinking we're trying to seduce each other's husbands. Thinking of you while sleeping with him. Jimmy wondering where my mind goes when we're together. More jealousy. Infidelity. Anger."
She turned back to Tim, who was staring at her intently, amazed at how much thought she's put into this.
"And I didn't want that. That's not love. That's poison. So, when we got home that night, I told him a story about the four of us at the club, and it was melt-your-brain-hot! Turned out he really liked the idea of it. And then it was a game. And we were okay. Because thinking about you and him and me and Abby together doesn't mean I love him any less.
The smile that makes everything
seem all right.
"I talked to Abby the next morning. And instead of the usual story of suspicion and anger, I flat out said to her, 'It'll probably never happen, but I would like to sleep with you and Tim and Jimmy. I'm sure he's got tricks Jimmy's never dreamed of, and you've never been kissed until you've been kissed by Jimmy Palmer. The things that man can do with his tongue!'
"And she just smiled at me, you know that smile, the one that makes everything seem good and happy, and then hugged me, and said, 'I don't think the guys'll ever go for it, but if they do, oh yeah! We are so on for that!'
"I don't know, but somehow that seems a lot healthier than constantly watching each other, snide remarks, lack of trust, and worrying that something is going to happen. I know what page she's on. She knows where I am. You're rubbing my wrist, and she's seen it, and she's not bothered or worried, because she knows what's going on. We can both sit here, with you guys, flirt a little, mess around a little, and it's not a problem, because nothing is ever going to happen without all four of us agreeing and wholeheartedly jumping into it."
First time he showed us pictures of you.Tim waited another second, making sure she was done, then kissed her cheek. "I love you. You and Abby are the most beautiful women on earth. And Jimmy and I are insanely lucky to have you in our lives. And yeah, for me, love and sex and MINE are all sort of tangled together, and I really like the idea of what you're saying, but I don't know if I'll ever feel that way. And, look, completely honest, I've been fantasizing about you since the first time Jimmy showed us a picture of you. If you ever want to sleep with me and Abby, there's always room in our bed for you." He flashes her his sexy smile and very intentionally lets his eyes drag down her body before sliding them back up to meet hers. "And you're right, I've got tricks he's never dreamed of, and Abby and I would make you feel so good!"
Breena giggled at that.
"But she's MY wife. And Jimmy's the sticking point."
"He feels the same way about me and you."
"Of course."
"You guys should probably talk to each other about this."
Tim ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, looking over at Jimmy who is now splashing Tony with Molly's help while Abby and Ziva laugh at them. Talking to Jimmy about this meant walking into pretty dangerous territory that he'd rather stay away from right now, but, yeah, it'd have to happen sooner or later, so he answers, "Get enough alcohol into us, and maybe we will. Anyway… maybe one day I'll be able to get over that enough for both of you to come join us. I mean, when she was first pregnant he was joking about sleeping with her, and I wanted to hit him, because she's MINE and he didn't even have the right to joke about it. And I don't feel that now, at least not in regards to him. Some asshole was eyeballing her the other day, and I could feel my pulse in my ears while he was doing it…" Tim took a breath, he sounded pissed as he was talking about it. "Okay, off topic…"
Breena laughed at little, giving him a knowing look. "Or not so much."
"Or not so much." He shook his head and switched from holding the pressure point on her right wrist to her left. "But yeah, right now, MINE is attached to sex, really attached to sex, attached to sex the same way I'm attached to my arms. And, like you noticed, that does seem to be a guy thing, and I'm not going to stop being a guy at any point in the future. And I really doubt Jimmy's gonna stop being a guy. So I guess the question for me is, can Jimmy and I get from MINE to ours? Can we share you with each other? I mean, I can guarantee there is absolutely no shot at all of me ever being cool with anyone other than Jimmy, and there's probably better than even odds I'll never be cool with him, either. But, there's still the idea, I guess… Can you be ours, can Abby be ours, and can I even wrap my head around ours?"
"I don't know."
"I don't either. But I'm thinking about it. Because you're right, the idea is melt-your-brains hot."
That got a very sexy grin out of Breena. "Good. He is, too."
Tim looked at her wrist in his hand, deciding now is probably a good time to change the topic. "So, is this helping, at all?"
"Tiny bit." Breena smiled, understanding he was changing the topic, letting himself have time to think. "The conversation's good. It's keeping me distracted."
"Yeah, I didn't find it very useful when I was on the Regan."
"Better than nothing."
"That's true. And you at least feel like you're doing something."
"Yep. So show me the other points."
Next
Chapter 223: Memorial Day Weekend
On Friday, after the meal, when they were all hanging out at Tony and Ziva's, Abby was sitting, straddling one of the kitchen chairs while Tim rubbed her back and hips.
Kelly's due in five weeks, so everything loosens up and hips and back hurt, but the fact that it's normal doesn't make it feel any better.
Jimmy was watching them while talking with Ziva, but when that bit of conversation wrapped, he looked at them and said, "You know, our gym has a pool. It opens tomorrow. We," he gestures to let the rest of the group know this is an invite for everyone, though Abby's the main reason he's thinking this, "could go tomorrow or Sunday or Monday if we don't get called in for a case."
It's Memorial Day weekend. They are on call for this one. Gibbs set it so they'd be off Fourth of July, thinking that it was likely his team would appreciate the off time. After Molly, it was pretty hard to get his guys to pay attention to the work at hand. So, assuming Kelly shows up on time, not having to worry about a case to go with new baby struck him as a good idea.
Okay, that's bull. He set it for him. He doesn't want to have to be worried about a case. Kelly shows up, and he wants to be able to take off and enjoy it. He's planning on being there more or less all the time the first week or so. More and more this is looking like Kelly's coming out by c-section, so an extra set of hands around the house will be a very good thing.
The fact that it works out well for the rest of the team is just a nice side-effect.
Neither Tim nor Abby appears to get why a pool would be a good thing. Tim's looking at Jimmy like he's insane because, while it's true he's got nothing against swimming, cold and wet is still awfully low on his list of fun activities. Abby's thinking about how little she wants to try and get into a bathing suit, let alone waddle around almost naked with everyone looking at her.
Jimmy sees their confusion and he looks at Breena, shaking his head, flashing her a look that says, Amateurs. She grins back at him, veteran parents sharing a kind laugh at the newbies.
Jimmy scooted over to kneel in front of Abby. "Abby, in a pool you're weightless. Nothing hurts in a pool. And it's cool. No more hot flash."
"Oh." And the light dawns on Abby and with it a smile of delight spread across her face.
"Yeah, I would have lived in the indoor pool the last six weeks with Molly if I could have. Feels so good you don't care how you look. Trust me, pool this weekend is a good idea."
"Then take me to the pool!"
Tony and Ziva were in. Pool sounded great to them. Ducky and Penny decided no on the pool, but did offer to make dinner for everyone and have them over that night. Gibbs didn't say anything one way or the other.
'Course, these days, Gibbs isn't talking a whole lot. At least, if he can avoid it. It's been a pretty intense six weeks for him. But as things slide back into a new version of normal, the loss of his dad keeps creeping back to the front of his mind. He's functional but sad. And they get that. If anyone gets that, it's this group.
But before heading off, Tim pulled him into Tony and Ziva's kitchen.
"Come with us on Monday."
He did that half-shrug, don't want to commit to anything gesture.
"Sunshine and playing with your girls is good for you. You're spending plenty of time in your basement, time to get in the light for a little bit, an hour, two if you can take it. If you want, you can call it bootcamp and make Jimmy and I swim laps, but come with us. Splash with the girls, snuggle Molly, lay out and suck up some vitamin D. It'll help."
Gibbs sighs. "Fine."
"Good."
"You're both doing laps."
"Of course."
It's cold. Really freaking cold. Back when he was a kid, Tim used to listen to Bill Cosby stand up recordings, and one of the stories he told was about jumping in a lake with water that was like 34 degrees Fahrenheit, and getting into the outdoor pool at Jimmy's gym is reminding him very strongly of that story.
Of course, the rest of the crew seems to be liking it.
And Abby… she's ecstatic. She's been running hot for a while now, and apparently being dropped into a vat of what is basically liquid snow is making her really happy.
"I love the pool! The pool is awesome! You can take me out again when labor starts! I'm not moving 'til then."
That makes Tim laugh. "You want us to get a pool membership?"
"Yes!" she says, ecstatic at the idea.
He smiles and nods at that.
Officially, Breena's not pregnant yet. Though everyone in this group has figured out that she is, but those who haven't been officially told are doing a good job of pretending to have not noticed. Nuchal Fold test is 4th of June. But while the others are playing in the pool, she's lying on a lounge. Looks like she might be napping, but Tim's thinking she might not be. There's a bit too much tension in her face for napping.
Like with Molly and Jon, the Morning Sickness Fairy has come to visit, and is hammering her, hard.
He kissed Abby's ear and said, "I'm gonna check on Breena. I don't think she's feeling well. Offer her a ride home if she wants to go."
Abby nodded at that and smiled, also knowing that Tim's looking for an excuse to get out of the water. Just because she feels like her body's running at 101 all the time doesn't mean he finds being stuck in cold water particularly comfortable.
He headed to the lounge next to Breena and started drying off. "How are you doing?"
She opened her eyes to look at him. "Blech."
"Sorry to hear it. You want me to give you a lift home?"
"Won't be any better at home. The meds I'm on keep me from throwing up, but it doesn't make the nausea go away."
He nodded at that and sat on the edge of her lounge chair. "Give me your wrist."
"Tim?" she asked, rolling onto her side to face him.
Not having a good time, at all."The summer Ziva was in Israel, Tony took some off time, so it was just me and Gibbs, and we got called onto a case on the Regan, for a week, in heavy seas. I get sea sick. I get really sea sick. Lost eight pounds over the course of that week." He took her hand in his, eyeballed the size of her fingers, and found the spot on her wrist he was looking for, pressing his thumb gently into it. "Trust me, by the end of that week, I knew every nausea remedy on earth. Most of them don't work, but this one was… better than nothing.""How does it work?" Breena asked, looking at her wrist in his hand.
"Three fingers down, inside of your wrist, between the tendons, gentle pressure until you feel better. There are a bunch of them, and if you want, I'll show them to you, but this is the easiest one to hit."
"And what does better than nothing mean?"
"Let me get a few hours of sleep every night."
"Better than nothing."
"Yeah. The medic tried to give me some anti-nausea meds, but I had to swallow them and keep 'em down. Didn't work."
"The stuff I'm on is a tablet that dissolves on the tongue. That's pretty nice. And I'm not getting dehydrated, so that's good too, but I still feel awful."
He held the point on her wrist, talking about the other ones, sympathizing, a little, over how awful being nauseous all the time is. After a minute, that conversation wore down.
"Can I ask you something?" Tim said to Breena.
"Sure."
He took a deep breath, not entirely sure if he wanted to do this, but… he didn't know the answer, and it was niggling at him, not the sort of thing he thought about a lot, especially not these last few weeks, but sometimes it would just sort of creep into his mind, like right now as he's sitting next to her holding her wrist, and he felt like he could get a better handle on this if he did get the answer, so…
"Abby tells me you and her talk about the four of us having sex."
Breena dressed for the pool.That got a bright, happy smile out of her. Apparently Breena liked talking about sex, because it looked like this was perking her up. "Yep."Tim had a quick and firm mental discussion with his dick about how it was not going to notice this conversation or the fact that Breena's in a bikini, and it was really not going to notice the fact that she's smiling at the idea of having sex with him or that he's touching her, because he's wearing nothing but wet swim trunks and sunglasses, and if there's an outfit that does a worse job of concealing an erection, he doesn't know what it'd be.
He wasn't entirely sure if his dick was paying attention to him or not, but it didn't feel like it was getting past the first flush of thinking about getting hard, so that was okay.
"I understand why Abby and I have talked about it. She made it clear very early on that as long as we were both happy and comfortable that anything was on the table. It just had to be fair and both of us had to be part of it. As long as I was cool with another guy, she'd be cool with another girl. And we're both jealous enough, and I'm way more than straight enough that we knew it'd likely never happen. But we had that conversation, probably, given some of the stuff we like, needed to have it. What I don't get is how you and Jimmy got there."
She had a knowing smile on her face. "You mean, how did I go from 'no sex with anyone who isn't my husband' to 'hey, maybe our best friends would be fun, too'?"
"Um… yeah."
"I was fourteen and had a boyfriend I was completely in love with. Loved everything about him. Head to toes. One of the other girls in our class liked him, too, started a rumor that I'd been fooling around on him, and I saw how pissed he got. He beat the hell out of the guy I'd supposedly been fooling around with. Sheer luck, Doug, the other guy, didn't press charges."
Tim winced, but kept quiet, letting her keep telling the story.
"But I realized there was power in the idea of MINE. So I watched, and paid attention, and every guy I've met has had a MINE kick. Stronger in some guys, weaker in others, and I decided that there was something I could give my future husband, an act of love that'd rock his world. And I also knew that a guy who would respect me enough to move at my speed, a guy who would put his desire for sex on the shelf long enough to get to know me and make me his wife, a man who would fall in love with me, and not my body, was a man worthy of me. And a man who wouldn't pressure me, wouldn't belittle me, wouldn't try to make me feel bad for wanting to wait, was a man worthy to raise my daughters and the kind of man I'd want my sons to become." She was smiling at that, watching Jimmy, who was gently tossing Molly to Gibbs in the pool. They were all soaked, and Molly was shrieking with laughter.
Her eyes slid away from Molly, Gibbs, and Jimmy, back to Tim. "But it was never a sex is bad or icky or sinful and somehow marriage suddenly wipes it clean and makes it pure kind of thing." She sorted at that, derisive look on her face. "That's the stereotype, right? Frigid Christian virgin afraid to get dirty?"
She was looking at Tim like she expected an answer, so he nodded. More signaling keep talking than I agree with that.
"That's not me. Never was. Sure, I'm Christian, and I believe that we're all sinners, all the time, in all things. That's our nature, and through Christ's grace we are able to experience love and joy and peace. And what we do, whatever it may be, if it's an act of love, then it's okay. It's blessed by God because without Him we wouldn't be able to feel that love, because all love is a reflection of Him. Because love is how we know Him.
"And for the four of us, love isn't the problem. We've got love. Best I can see, the sticking point for the four of us is the whole MINE thing. Namely you and Jimmy have a somewhat different interpretation of how that works than Abby and I do.
"But, from what I can tell, Abby isn't any less yours because she's had sex with lots of other guys. Ziva isn't any less Tony's."
Tim nodded; he agreed with that.
"Because it's not sex that makes someone yours." And now he wasn't agreeing quite so much, but he was listening. "Because sex may be an act of love, but it's not love. And love isn't something that goes away. It doesn't break into pieces. You don't have less of it to give because you love someone else. You won't love Abby less when Kelly's born, you'll love her more, and you'll love Kelly more than you think you can possibly love anyone, and it all sort of wraps up into itself and makes both loves stronger and brighter."
Okay, that sounded good, too, he was nodding away.
"You don't love Abby less because you love Jimmy. You don't love Jimmy less because you love me or Tony or Ziva.
"And I've gotten to the point in my life where MINE when it comes to Jimmy isn't about sex. Not really. It's about love and trust and the life we've built and our home and family. And you and Abby don't threaten that. You're part of it. He wants to go off on his own and pick up some random 22-year-old with perky breasts and twenty-five inch waist…" Breena's eyes left his, and he knew she's looking at all of the pretty, young things in tiny bikinis wandering around the pool. "And I'll be pissed, big time, because that would be a violation of that trust and love." Her gaze returned to him, then flicked over to the water where Jimmy and Abby were playing with Molly, while Gibbs talked with Ziva, and Tony was about to leap in, cannonballing next to them. "But you and Abby? You held us when we mourned our son, carried us when the pain was too great to walk, and if there's any greater act of love than that, I don't know what it would be." She blinked, wiped away the tears, steadied her voice, and touched his fingers on her wrist. "Even that's about love and comforting each other. Anyway. If that love is ever expressed as sex, well, yeah, I'd like that." She smiled warm and a little flirty at Tim. "And I know you would, too."
He was about to speak when she gestured with her finger to let him know she wasn't quite done.
"I realize that all the love stuff may just be bull. I might be rationalizing this. Might just be horny. Might be curious. You three all tried other people, got to see what it was like. I haven't. But I do know this, I love Jimmy, body, soul, mind, any way you can love a man, I love him, and I'm never, ever going to do anything that hurts him. So, if he's not completely into this, too, then it's never going to happen. I love you and Abby, too, and I won't do anything to hurt you, either.
"So maybe this will stay a fantasy. Maybe it'll never go further than Abby and I dancing together slow and close to make you and Jimmy stare at us like you want to eat us alive. Maybe for the rest of our days we'll be dear friends who flirt a little too hard, hug each other a few seconds too long, dance a little too close, but we laugh and enjoy it, because it makes us feel sexy and good.
"And if that's all this ever is, that's fine! It's more than fine." She took his hand in hers and squeezed it. "I never thought I'd have friends like you and Abby. But I do think it's better that we're open about wanting each other, and choose, eyes open, to either explore that further or not, rather than pretend it's not there." She let go of him, and went back to watching the rest of the family playing.
"More than a year ago, Abby and I were dancing, and Ziva asked if the four of us were sleeping together, and that got me thinking about it. Jimmy's loved her forever. I liked you. She wanted us. You're hot for me. And I thought about how that could go. Secret fantasies, jealousy, Abby and I annoyed at each other, thinking we're trying to seduce each other's husbands. Thinking of you while sleeping with him. Jimmy wondering where my mind goes when we're together. More jealousy. Infidelity. Anger."
She turned back to Tim, who was staring at her intently, amazed at how much thought she's put into this.
"And I didn't want that. That's not love. That's poison. So, when we got home that night, I told him a story about the four of us at the club, and it was melt-your-brain-hot! Turned out he really liked the idea of it. And then it was a game. And we were okay. Because thinking about you and him and me and Abby together doesn't mean I love him any less.
The smile that makes everythingseem all right.
"I talked to Abby the next morning. And instead of the usual story of suspicion and anger, I flat out said to her, 'It'll probably never happen, but I would like to sleep with you and Tim and Jimmy. I'm sure he's got tricks Jimmy's never dreamed of, and you've never been kissed until you've been kissed by Jimmy Palmer. The things that man can do with his tongue!'
"And she just smiled at me, you know that smile, the one that makes everything seem good and happy, and then hugged me, and said, 'I don't think the guys'll ever go for it, but if they do, oh yeah! We are so on for that!'
"I don't know, but somehow that seems a lot healthier than constantly watching each other, snide remarks, lack of trust, and worrying that something is going to happen. I know what page she's on. She knows where I am. You're rubbing my wrist, and she's seen it, and she's not bothered or worried, because she knows what's going on. We can both sit here, with you guys, flirt a little, mess around a little, and it's not a problem, because nothing is ever going to happen without all four of us agreeing and wholeheartedly jumping into it."
First time he showed us pictures of you.Tim waited another second, making sure she was done, then kissed her cheek. "I love you. You and Abby are the most beautiful women on earth. And Jimmy and I are insanely lucky to have you in our lives. And yeah, for me, love and sex and MINE are all sort of tangled together, and I really like the idea of what you're saying, but I don't know if I'll ever feel that way. And, look, completely honest, I've been fantasizing about you since the first time Jimmy showed us a picture of you. If you ever want to sleep with me and Abby, there's always room in our bed for you." He flashes her his sexy smile and very intentionally lets his eyes drag down her body before sliding them back up to meet hers. "And you're right, I've got tricks he's never dreamed of, and Abby and I would make you feel so good!"Breena giggled at that.
"But she's MY wife. And Jimmy's the sticking point."
"He feels the same way about me and you."
"Of course."
"You guys should probably talk to each other about this."
Tim ran his fingers through his hair and sighed, looking over at Jimmy who is now splashing Tony with Molly's help while Abby and Ziva laugh at them. Talking to Jimmy about this meant walking into pretty dangerous territory that he'd rather stay away from right now, but, yeah, it'd have to happen sooner or later, so he answers, "Get enough alcohol into us, and maybe we will. Anyway… maybe one day I'll be able to get over that enough for both of you to come join us. I mean, when she was first pregnant he was joking about sleeping with her, and I wanted to hit him, because she's MINE and he didn't even have the right to joke about it. And I don't feel that now, at least not in regards to him. Some asshole was eyeballing her the other day, and I could feel my pulse in my ears while he was doing it…" Tim took a breath, he sounded pissed as he was talking about it. "Okay, off topic…"
Breena laughed at little, giving him a knowing look. "Or not so much."
"Or not so much." He shook his head and switched from holding the pressure point on her right wrist to her left. "But yeah, right now, MINE is attached to sex, really attached to sex, attached to sex the same way I'm attached to my arms. And, like you noticed, that does seem to be a guy thing, and I'm not going to stop being a guy at any point in the future. And I really doubt Jimmy's gonna stop being a guy. So I guess the question for me is, can Jimmy and I get from MINE to ours? Can we share you with each other? I mean, I can guarantee there is absolutely no shot at all of me ever being cool with anyone other than Jimmy, and there's probably better than even odds I'll never be cool with him, either. But, there's still the idea, I guess… Can you be ours, can Abby be ours, and can I even wrap my head around ours?"
"I don't know."
"I don't either. But I'm thinking about it. Because you're right, the idea is melt-your-brains hot."
That got a very sexy grin out of Breena. "Good. He is, too."
Tim looked at her wrist in his hand, deciding now is probably a good time to change the topic. "So, is this helping, at all?"
"Tiny bit." Breena smiled, understanding he was changing the topic, letting himself have time to think. "The conversation's good. It's keeping me distracted."
"Yeah, I didn't find it very useful when I was on the Regan."
"Better than nothing."
"That's true. And you at least feel like you're doing something."
"Yep. So show me the other points."
Next
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 222
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 222: Better
In almost any way, Gibbs would tell you the world has been getting to be a better and better place. He firmly believes that, but there are some things he finds… perplexing.
Like, when did it become expected for men to attend baby showers?
He knows it wasn't when Shannon was pregnant. When she was pregnant it was his job to drop her off at her best friend's house and then come back four hours later and lug presents into the car and into the house, and then assemble any presents that required assembly. And that was a job he felt fully capable of doing not just well, but with a certain level of style.
And Tobias told him it wasn't when Diane was pregnant.
But somehow, over the years, that changed, and he found himself at Molly's baby shower (hosted by Abby and Tim), and is now in the process of putting the finishing touches on the decorations at Jimmy's place because Breena's having a surprise shower for Tim and Abby, and somehow he and Ducky got roped into this.
YumAnd it's not that he doesn't love Tim and Abby, let alone that he doesn't love Kelly, it's just that standing on a chair tacking up pink skull bedecked streamers as Ducky arranges little sandwiches on a tray feels really weird to him.
Ducky looks up at him from the tray, and says, "Did you ever think, Jethro, that we'd be here?"
"No, Duck. I really didn't."
Ducky laughs at that.
Breena bustles in with a tray covered in tiny pink cupcakes with little skulls on them. She checks the sandwiches and the decorations. "Good work, guys."
Gibbs shakes his head, bemused. At least he's doing it well.
Best baby shower present ever!Goth baby shower probably isn't a contradiction in terms or an oxymoron per se, but like with Goth maternity clothing it just doesn't seem to be something that anyone plans for.
Of course, this isn't a baby shower in the traditional sense. Usually the idea of a baby shower is the same idea behind wedding presents, namely your family all chips in to get you the stuff you need, but presumably can't afford because you're young and don't have any money.
Which is, of course, not the case, for Tim and Abby.
So, really, this is more like a birthday party for Kelly. A real first birthday.
Presents are tending toward small and cute. (With the exception of the Bissell Little Green Steam Cleaner Jimmy and Breena got them, which is, according to Breena, the single most useful appliance for new parents, hands down.) And mostly they're just gathering together for the fun of all being together.
Tony pulled him aside as the party was winding down. "Look, you don't have to tell me what's going on. If it's private, I'll leave it alone. But, just, don't lie to me, okay? We're worried about you. Both Ziva and I can see you didn't do this to yourself with a mirror."
Yeah, he's healing up, band aids are off, but he's got a lot of fine pink lines/scabs on his face, neck, forearms and hands.
Tim suddenly gets that Tony really will leave this alone. That in the last three years he has grown up enough to be able to do that.
Tim nods at him, saying, "I'm not okay, not on this, but I will be, eventually. It's nothing you can change or help with. And one of these days, when I feel like talking about it, I'll tell you, but not right now. Right now, I just want to let it lie. I've got a lot of bigger, better things on my horizon and I want to focus on them."
"Okay." Tony's voice is serious, and he's looking at Tim like if he stares hard enough he can figure out what's going on. "Everyone who does need to know, knows?"
"Yeah. It's not a secret, it's just, literally, I don't want to say the words. Don't want to think about it. You can ask Gibbs about it if you like. He'll fill you in."
Tony gives him a sort of half-smile and puts his hand on Tim's shoulder. "I'll wait for you. It's not anything with Abby or Kelly, though? You guys didn't get more troubling news?"
"No, nothing with them. Right now they're keeping me afloat. Just… stuff I didn't deal with a long time ago coming back and biting me in the ass."
"Okay. Look, you need to go get drunk, or fight, or run, or whatever, give me a call and I'm in."
"Thanks."
Much later that night, after the presents had been put away, and they were settling in for sleep, Tim kissed Abby's neck, hand cupping her breast, body snugged close to hers, very much telegraphing this is not just a good night kiss.
"Not tonight," she sounds pretty tired and kind of annoyed as she says that.
"Okay. Can I spoon you?" Normally Tim wouldn't ask. Normally he'd just cuddle up and go to sleep, but since they got home Abby's been in one of her porcupine moods, and his current Rule Number 3 is 'Do not unnecessarily poke the porcupine.'
"Sure."
He cuddled up close, hoping to find a position that let him snuggle her but also didn't annoy/make her more uncomfortable.
And for a few minutes he thought he had. He was relaxing, fantasizing a little, but planning on just going to sleep. He likes thinking about sex as something to fall asleep to, tends to lead to good dreams. He was about three quarters asleep, where the line between fantasy and dream had gotten pretty blurry.
"I said not tonight."
That yanked him back to the fully awake side of the line. "And I'm fine with that."
"You're poking me."
Sigh. Literally, don't poke the porcupine. Stupid body. "You're warm, soft, naked, and pressed up against me. I'm enjoying that. I'm not intending to do anything with it."
"Better not." Another quiet minute. "Do you want to do something with it?"
That gets a smile out of Tim, and he kisses Abby's shoulder. "Not twelve anymore, when I have an erection it's because I want to do something with it."
"Or you're just waking up."
"Once I'm awake, I want to do something with it."
She laughs a little at that.
"Why are you asking? Want me to do something?"
"No. Not really. I'm tired, irritable, and everything hurts."
"You might feel better after some sex." He can feel her glare. "Not pushing my luck. Just, endorphins, you know?"
She rolls over to face him, a fairly long and complicated procedure, but finally she's laying on her left side. "You really want to have sex?"
"Ummm… yeah. As you noticed, I'm poking you. Or would be if your back was to me." His tummy is against hers, his hand on her hip, and these days that means his dick's nowhere near her body.
"With me?" She's looking awfully doubtful at that.
"You see anyone else here?"
"I'm the size and shape of a killer whale: a stretch-marky, irritable, pregnant killer whale."
He grins and kisses the tip of her nose. "Then add stretch-marky, irritable, pregnant killer whales to the list of things that turn me on."
She laughs.
"Look, I want to have sex with you. No matter what. You may think you look like a whale, but I'm not seeing that. You're all soft and round and that's my kid in there, and I really like that. Come on, you know I get off on other people knowing you're mine, and eight months pregnant with my kid is more or less the ultimate symbol of that."
She nods.
"And I get that you're not all Yay! Sex right now, and that's cool. But whenever you are, for any kind of sex you want, I'm game. And I will always be game. If I end up a quadriplegic, and you want sex, I will talk to you until you're dripping down your legs and lick and suck your pussy until you're quivering and screaming. No matter what, Abby, I want you, and I want to be with you, and I want to feel you get off just as hard as I do."
She squeezes his hand. "Thank you."
"That's like thanking me for breathing. No matter what, as long as I've got higher-level neural functions, that's going to be true."
He's quiet for a moment, breathing against her. Then he grins. "Sooo…"
"Uh uh." Her head shakes.
"Not a problem. Wanna keep me company while I take care of this myself?"
She smiles at him. "Sure."
Next
Chapter 222: Better
In almost any way, Gibbs would tell you the world has been getting to be a better and better place. He firmly believes that, but there are some things he finds… perplexing.
Like, when did it become expected for men to attend baby showers?
He knows it wasn't when Shannon was pregnant. When she was pregnant it was his job to drop her off at her best friend's house and then come back four hours later and lug presents into the car and into the house, and then assemble any presents that required assembly. And that was a job he felt fully capable of doing not just well, but with a certain level of style.
And Tobias told him it wasn't when Diane was pregnant.
But somehow, over the years, that changed, and he found himself at Molly's baby shower (hosted by Abby and Tim), and is now in the process of putting the finishing touches on the decorations at Jimmy's place because Breena's having a surprise shower for Tim and Abby, and somehow he and Ducky got roped into this.
YumAnd it's not that he doesn't love Tim and Abby, let alone that he doesn't love Kelly, it's just that standing on a chair tacking up pink skull bedecked streamers as Ducky arranges little sandwiches on a tray feels really weird to him.Ducky looks up at him from the tray, and says, "Did you ever think, Jethro, that we'd be here?"
"No, Duck. I really didn't."
Ducky laughs at that.
Breena bustles in with a tray covered in tiny pink cupcakes with little skulls on them. She checks the sandwiches and the decorations. "Good work, guys."
Gibbs shakes his head, bemused. At least he's doing it well.
Best baby shower present ever!Goth baby shower probably isn't a contradiction in terms or an oxymoron per se, but like with Goth maternity clothing it just doesn't seem to be something that anyone plans for.Of course, this isn't a baby shower in the traditional sense. Usually the idea of a baby shower is the same idea behind wedding presents, namely your family all chips in to get you the stuff you need, but presumably can't afford because you're young and don't have any money.
Which is, of course, not the case, for Tim and Abby.
So, really, this is more like a birthday party for Kelly. A real first birthday.
Presents are tending toward small and cute. (With the exception of the Bissell Little Green Steam Cleaner Jimmy and Breena got them, which is, according to Breena, the single most useful appliance for new parents, hands down.) And mostly they're just gathering together for the fun of all being together.
Tony pulled him aside as the party was winding down. "Look, you don't have to tell me what's going on. If it's private, I'll leave it alone. But, just, don't lie to me, okay? We're worried about you. Both Ziva and I can see you didn't do this to yourself with a mirror."
Yeah, he's healing up, band aids are off, but he's got a lot of fine pink lines/scabs on his face, neck, forearms and hands.
Tim suddenly gets that Tony really will leave this alone. That in the last three years he has grown up enough to be able to do that.
Tim nods at him, saying, "I'm not okay, not on this, but I will be, eventually. It's nothing you can change or help with. And one of these days, when I feel like talking about it, I'll tell you, but not right now. Right now, I just want to let it lie. I've got a lot of bigger, better things on my horizon and I want to focus on them."
"Okay." Tony's voice is serious, and he's looking at Tim like if he stares hard enough he can figure out what's going on. "Everyone who does need to know, knows?"
"Yeah. It's not a secret, it's just, literally, I don't want to say the words. Don't want to think about it. You can ask Gibbs about it if you like. He'll fill you in."
Tony gives him a sort of half-smile and puts his hand on Tim's shoulder. "I'll wait for you. It's not anything with Abby or Kelly, though? You guys didn't get more troubling news?"
"No, nothing with them. Right now they're keeping me afloat. Just… stuff I didn't deal with a long time ago coming back and biting me in the ass."
"Okay. Look, you need to go get drunk, or fight, or run, or whatever, give me a call and I'm in."
"Thanks."
Much later that night, after the presents had been put away, and they were settling in for sleep, Tim kissed Abby's neck, hand cupping her breast, body snugged close to hers, very much telegraphing this is not just a good night kiss.
"Not tonight," she sounds pretty tired and kind of annoyed as she says that.
"Okay. Can I spoon you?" Normally Tim wouldn't ask. Normally he'd just cuddle up and go to sleep, but since they got home Abby's been in one of her porcupine moods, and his current Rule Number 3 is 'Do not unnecessarily poke the porcupine.'
"Sure."
He cuddled up close, hoping to find a position that let him snuggle her but also didn't annoy/make her more uncomfortable.
And for a few minutes he thought he had. He was relaxing, fantasizing a little, but planning on just going to sleep. He likes thinking about sex as something to fall asleep to, tends to lead to good dreams. He was about three quarters asleep, where the line between fantasy and dream had gotten pretty blurry.
"I said not tonight."
That yanked him back to the fully awake side of the line. "And I'm fine with that."
"You're poking me."
Sigh. Literally, don't poke the porcupine. Stupid body. "You're warm, soft, naked, and pressed up against me. I'm enjoying that. I'm not intending to do anything with it."
"Better not." Another quiet minute. "Do you want to do something with it?"
That gets a smile out of Tim, and he kisses Abby's shoulder. "Not twelve anymore, when I have an erection it's because I want to do something with it."
"Or you're just waking up."
"Once I'm awake, I want to do something with it."
She laughs a little at that.
"Why are you asking? Want me to do something?"
"No. Not really. I'm tired, irritable, and everything hurts."
"You might feel better after some sex." He can feel her glare. "Not pushing my luck. Just, endorphins, you know?"
She rolls over to face him, a fairly long and complicated procedure, but finally she's laying on her left side. "You really want to have sex?"
"Ummm… yeah. As you noticed, I'm poking you. Or would be if your back was to me." His tummy is against hers, his hand on her hip, and these days that means his dick's nowhere near her body.
"With me?" She's looking awfully doubtful at that.
"You see anyone else here?"
"I'm the size and shape of a killer whale: a stretch-marky, irritable, pregnant killer whale."
He grins and kisses the tip of her nose. "Then add stretch-marky, irritable, pregnant killer whales to the list of things that turn me on."
She laughs.
"Look, I want to have sex with you. No matter what. You may think you look like a whale, but I'm not seeing that. You're all soft and round and that's my kid in there, and I really like that. Come on, you know I get off on other people knowing you're mine, and eight months pregnant with my kid is more or less the ultimate symbol of that."
She nods.
"And I get that you're not all Yay! Sex right now, and that's cool. But whenever you are, for any kind of sex you want, I'm game. And I will always be game. If I end up a quadriplegic, and you want sex, I will talk to you until you're dripping down your legs and lick and suck your pussy until you're quivering and screaming. No matter what, Abby, I want you, and I want to be with you, and I want to feel you get off just as hard as I do."
She squeezes his hand. "Thank you."
"That's like thanking me for breathing. No matter what, as long as I've got higher-level neural functions, that's going to be true."
He's quiet for a moment, breathing against her. Then he grins. "Sooo…"
"Uh uh." Her head shakes.
"Not a problem. Wanna keep me company while I take care of this myself?"
She smiles at him. "Sure."
Next
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 221
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 221: 3:00 AM At Home
He bolts out of the bed and is in the bathroom before his brain woke up enough to even know he was moving or why.
Once in there, blinding white light searing through sleep dark eyes, he hears Abby cry, and figures that's what got him up and out of bed.
That sounds a whole lot more like emotional distress than pain, and these days emotional distress can be anything from memories of long distance telephone commercials to a bad case.
"What? Are you okay?" he's saying as his eyes slowly adjust to the light.
Abby's standing in front of the mirror, lights on, crying, clutching the sink, and staring at herself.
She sees the fear in his eyes, because he hasn't been able to burn off all of the adrenaline of bolting out of bed, yet, and says, voice shaky and cracking, "It's broken." She tries a reassuring smile, but it doesn't come off at all, and another sob wrenches out of her.
He doesn't know what she's talking about, at all. But there's no blood, no amniotic fluid, so his first two guesses must be wrong. It takes a good thirty seconds before he sees what she means.
Kate's memorial tattoo on her hip. Three stretch marks, ones he didn't remember being there when they went to bed, crossed the tattoo, breaking the wrought iron cross, splitting the roses, cutting the C in half.
He wraps her in his arms, feeling himself relax, and says, "Oh, Abby."
She's crying on his shoulder.
"Shhhh..." He kisses her forehead, and gently strokes her hip.
"My skin was itching, burning, so I went in to rub some of the cocoa butter on it. I turned on the light and..."
He nods.
"I didn't realize I was so loud until you came bursting in."
"It's okay." He kisses her again. "Kate would laugh at you right now."
She smiles a little. "You think so?"
"Yeah, not in a mean way. She'd be happy your little girl touched how you remember her. She'd like a symbol of life eternal marked by new life forming."
"Yeah, she would. Kelly still needs a middle name."
He knows where she's going with this. "Yeah, she does."
"But not Kate. Kelly Caitlyn sounds wrong. But Kate's middle name was Marie."
"Kelly Marie McGee." That makes him smile. "I like that. I like that a whole lot."
"Good."
It's something he's wondered about for a while now, something he's never been entirely sure if he wanted to know the answer to, which is why he's never asked. And it's also why, though Kate was a glaringly obvious choice for a middle name, he didn't suggest it.
But, he knows she loves him and will always love him, knows it in his bones, in his soul if he has one, and he's pretty sure enough time has gone by that talking about it won't hurt Abby. And hell, this week has been a whole pile of confronting things he doesn't necessarily want or need to know, so why not just toss one more on top of it?
Were you in love with Kate?"Were you in love with Kate?"
He's spooned up behind her, so he can't see the expression on her face, but her feels her squeeze her hand.
"Does it matter?"
"Probably not. I'm just curious."
"As much as I could let myself love anyone then, yes."
He nods. "Is that part of why you and I didn't work the first time?"
"No. We didn't work because I couldn't handle us working. Same thing with falling for Kate. She was basically my perfect woman, straight, Catholic, in love with someone else… I could have her friendship and the fantasy without any fear of it ever going anywhere."
"In love with someone else?" That had gotten his attention. He didn't remember Kate having any sort of steady guy.
"She had a massive crush on Gibbs."
"Gibbs?" He was stunned. That idea had literally never, ever formed in his mind. Whispers of hints of that idea had never formed. Nothing even remotely related to that idea had even considered forming in his mind. It was completely out of the blue.
"Yeah."
"I thought her and Tony…"
Abby laughed a little at the surprise in his voice. "Gibbs did, too. But she didn't like guys who nailed anything that moved. Thought it was a sign of low self-respect, and she didn't think a man could love her the way she wanted to be loved if he didn't love himself properly first. I'm fairly sure Gibbs thought she and Tony would get together because that was a really good way of not having to deal with the fact that he wanted her, too."
Tim smiles at that. "Rule Number 12 exists for a reason. He told me that once."
"Yeah. I think that's one of the reasons why he prefers to work with younger women these days. That way he can just stuff us into the daughter file and not have to worry about it again."
Tim shrugs. "If it works…"
"I don't know if it does, but… I do know he does it."
"What do you think would have happened if she hadn't died?"
"With Kate and I, you mean?"
"Yeah."
"Nothing. Which was a big part of loving her. She wasn't hateful about it or anything, but she was very clear on homosexuality being a sin. It wasn't a problem if I wanted to play with girls or boys or both at once. She really was a good Christian, so she wasn't going to judge me or hold it against me, or treat me with anything but love, but it wasn't something she was willing to do."
"You actually talked about it?"
"I kissed her once, and she was cool about it, but very clear."
"When was that?"
"About three months before she died."
"Good kiss?" Okay, yeah, he probably didn't need to sound quite that turned on by the idea, but, well, he really likes that mental image, a whole lot.
Abby shrugs. "Awkward. She was pulling back about two tenths of a second after I touched her." Which squashes turned on flat. Because, yeah, Kate didn't go for it, wouldn't have gone for it.
"I've had kisses like that."
"Yeah, but she was really great about it. Told me she loved me, wanted to be my friend, but really didn't swing that way at all. And I knew that. I really did. But we were a little drunk, and I wanted to try my luck. It wasn't like I got burned. As long as I respected her boundaries, we were cool, and just went from there like nothing happened."
"Yeah, she would have been like that."
"Yeah, she was. How about you? Ever make a move on her?"
"Not saying I didn't think about it."He laughed at that. "No. Not saying I didn't think about it, a lot, but no. She wasn't just out of my league; we weren't even playing the same sport."
Abby laughs at that, thinks it's a very good way to put that. "She thought you were cute and sweet."
"Yeah, like a puppy," he says dryly. "And like I said when you said that to me, no man wants to be thought of as a puppy."
He can feel that's making her smile. "You certainly aren't a puppy anymore."
"Thank you."
Next
Chapter 221: 3:00 AM At Home
He bolts out of the bed and is in the bathroom before his brain woke up enough to even know he was moving or why.
Once in there, blinding white light searing through sleep dark eyes, he hears Abby cry, and figures that's what got him up and out of bed.
That sounds a whole lot more like emotional distress than pain, and these days emotional distress can be anything from memories of long distance telephone commercials to a bad case.
"What? Are you okay?" he's saying as his eyes slowly adjust to the light.
Abby's standing in front of the mirror, lights on, crying, clutching the sink, and staring at herself.
She sees the fear in his eyes, because he hasn't been able to burn off all of the adrenaline of bolting out of bed, yet, and says, voice shaky and cracking, "It's broken." She tries a reassuring smile, but it doesn't come off at all, and another sob wrenches out of her.
He doesn't know what she's talking about, at all. But there's no blood, no amniotic fluid, so his first two guesses must be wrong. It takes a good thirty seconds before he sees what she means.
Kate's memorial tattoo on her hip. Three stretch marks, ones he didn't remember being there when they went to bed, crossed the tattoo, breaking the wrought iron cross, splitting the roses, cutting the C in half.
He wraps her in his arms, feeling himself relax, and says, "Oh, Abby."
She's crying on his shoulder.
"Shhhh..." He kisses her forehead, and gently strokes her hip.
"My skin was itching, burning, so I went in to rub some of the cocoa butter on it. I turned on the light and..."
He nods.
"I didn't realize I was so loud until you came bursting in."
"It's okay." He kisses her again. "Kate would laugh at you right now."
She smiles a little. "You think so?"
"Yeah, not in a mean way. She'd be happy your little girl touched how you remember her. She'd like a symbol of life eternal marked by new life forming."
"Yeah, she would. Kelly still needs a middle name."
He knows where she's going with this. "Yeah, she does."
"But not Kate. Kelly Caitlyn sounds wrong. But Kate's middle name was Marie."
"Kelly Marie McGee." That makes him smile. "I like that. I like that a whole lot."
"Good."
It's something he's wondered about for a while now, something he's never been entirely sure if he wanted to know the answer to, which is why he's never asked. And it's also why, though Kate was a glaringly obvious choice for a middle name, he didn't suggest it.
But, he knows she loves him and will always love him, knows it in his bones, in his soul if he has one, and he's pretty sure enough time has gone by that talking about it won't hurt Abby. And hell, this week has been a whole pile of confronting things he doesn't necessarily want or need to know, so why not just toss one more on top of it?
Were you in love with Kate?"Were you in love with Kate?"He's spooned up behind her, so he can't see the expression on her face, but her feels her squeeze her hand.
"Does it matter?"
"Probably not. I'm just curious."
"As much as I could let myself love anyone then, yes."
He nods. "Is that part of why you and I didn't work the first time?"
"No. We didn't work because I couldn't handle us working. Same thing with falling for Kate. She was basically my perfect woman, straight, Catholic, in love with someone else… I could have her friendship and the fantasy without any fear of it ever going anywhere."
"In love with someone else?" That had gotten his attention. He didn't remember Kate having any sort of steady guy.
"She had a massive crush on Gibbs."
"Gibbs?" He was stunned. That idea had literally never, ever formed in his mind. Whispers of hints of that idea had never formed. Nothing even remotely related to that idea had even considered forming in his mind. It was completely out of the blue.
"Yeah."
"I thought her and Tony…"
Abby laughed a little at the surprise in his voice. "Gibbs did, too. But she didn't like guys who nailed anything that moved. Thought it was a sign of low self-respect, and she didn't think a man could love her the way she wanted to be loved if he didn't love himself properly first. I'm fairly sure Gibbs thought she and Tony would get together because that was a really good way of not having to deal with the fact that he wanted her, too."
Tim smiles at that. "Rule Number 12 exists for a reason. He told me that once."
"Yeah. I think that's one of the reasons why he prefers to work with younger women these days. That way he can just stuff us into the daughter file and not have to worry about it again."
Tim shrugs. "If it works…"
"I don't know if it does, but… I do know he does it."
"What do you think would have happened if she hadn't died?"
"With Kate and I, you mean?"
"Yeah."
"Nothing. Which was a big part of loving her. She wasn't hateful about it or anything, but she was very clear on homosexuality being a sin. It wasn't a problem if I wanted to play with girls or boys or both at once. She really was a good Christian, so she wasn't going to judge me or hold it against me, or treat me with anything but love, but it wasn't something she was willing to do."
"You actually talked about it?"
"I kissed her once, and she was cool about it, but very clear."
"When was that?"
"About three months before she died."
"Good kiss?" Okay, yeah, he probably didn't need to sound quite that turned on by the idea, but, well, he really likes that mental image, a whole lot.
Abby shrugs. "Awkward. She was pulling back about two tenths of a second after I touched her." Which squashes turned on flat. Because, yeah, Kate didn't go for it, wouldn't have gone for it.
"I've had kisses like that."
"Yeah, but she was really great about it. Told me she loved me, wanted to be my friend, but really didn't swing that way at all. And I knew that. I really did. But we were a little drunk, and I wanted to try my luck. It wasn't like I got burned. As long as I respected her boundaries, we were cool, and just went from there like nothing happened."
"Yeah, she would have been like that."
"Yeah, she was. How about you? Ever make a move on her?"
"Not saying I didn't think about it."He laughed at that. "No. Not saying I didn't think about it, a lot, but no. She wasn't just out of my league; we weren't even playing the same sport."Abby laughs at that, thinks it's a very good way to put that. "She thought you were cute and sweet."
"Yeah, like a puppy," he says dryly. "And like I said when you said that to me, no man wants to be thought of as a puppy."
He can feel that's making her smile. "You certainly aren't a puppy anymore."
"Thank you."
Next
Shards To A Whole: Chapter 220
McGee-centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
Chapter 220: An Adult
Usually Tim checks his email about five times a day, if not more. Due to rule number three, (never be unreachable) he's always got his phone nearby. But after talking to his mom, he's fairly sure she'll call again or send an email or something. And maybe get ahold of Sarah or Penny (Though he trusts that Penny will be a dead end for her. Ducky's certainly told her about what happened. The fact that she's in San Francisco this week is probably the only reason she hasn't been over to visit.) to try and reach him.
So, he turned it off, put it on the little table beside their front door, and went off the grid for three days. The people he wants to have contact with know where he is and how to get him if need be, and that's enough.
He wrote, a lot. Burying himself in jazz and the sound of his typewriter clicking away. Like with being trapped in the freezer he started as MacGregor, let himself have the distance he needed and worked it out plot point by plot point, organized it, gave it shape, treated it like character backstory.
And after a few hours of that, and a few confrontation scenes ranging from MacGregor killing all of them in an extremely messy and gory way to just yelling at them, he slid into his own voice and spent most of that day free writing, just letting it out.
He wasn't exactly feeling sexy that night, mostly just tired and wrung out, but they went to bed, and Abby wrapped him in her body, gently making love to him, reminding him, vividly, that he is adored, and that no matter how bad this hurts, and that she understands that it hurts, that there is still pleasure.
And it helped.
Nothing changed, but it made him feel good, let him not hurt for a little bit, so that was a step forward.
Saturday morning he opened his phone and began to go through the huge pile of email, texts, and calls.
Seven from his sister, so yeah, his mom must have called her.
Three from Penny.
But only one email from her.
The voicemails from Penny confirmed that yes, Ducky had told her what was going on, and yes, his mom and sister had called her, and that she'd more or less let loose on his mom double-barreled and had told his sister what was going on and that he'd give her a call when he could talk.
He flashed her a quick text. Thank you. Still feeling pretty quiet. Will call you soon.
A minute later he got one back. I know. Love you. He closed his eyes and sighed.
Then he read through the texts from his sister, mostly along the lines of: What the hell is going on? Mom's hysterical, you've dropped off the face of the planet, Ben's pissed because she's so upset, and Dad's currently unreachable. What happened? The last one read: Talked to Penny. I get it. Call me when you can.
He sent her one back that said: Not feeling very social right now. We'll have lunch soon, though.
He got back: With Penny, too?
Yeah. Probably a good idea.
His fingers hovered over the button for his mom's email for a good minute. He's not sure he wants to see what's in there. But the subject is Why with no question mark, so the only thing he wants to know might be in there.
Of course, knowing might rip the very fragile peace he's got right now to shreds. But not knowing means he can't focus on anything else. So he hits the button and it opens.
It's a picture of him and Abby. Sarah must have snapped it, though he doesn't remember that. It's the night they went to the Japanese restaurant, him all shaved and kilted, her in the cheongsam. He's holding the door open for her, and she's stepping into the restaurant.
It's a close enough shot that it's clear he's wearing makeup, but far enough back to see the kilt, too.
His mom attached it to a short message that said: The goal was for you to be strong enough to be a man who could do this. The summer you were fourteen, I didn't step in until it was clear that you wouldn't say no to him. Once it was, I ended it. When you said no to shooting practice, he stopped it. It was always about making you strong enough to stand up for yourself.
You needed to be able to stand up for your interests, for your loves, and say no to anyone who would push you around.
You had to be strong enough to say no to him.
And when you ripped up the Annapolis letter, you were.
His first response, a flare of hot, blinding rage, wasn't very useful. He felt it pulse through him as he read the email, and then tried to let it go.
Big, destructive, angry hissy fit wasn't good for anyone, and he's got people who are depending on him right now. He forgot that, got too lost in himself and the anger before, and lucked out because nothing bad happened on all the other fronts of his life, giving him the time he needed to heal up. But it would have been so easy for things to just go sideways.
He can't knock himself out of commission. Abby needs him, so he can't be healing up from anything.
And maybe he didn't do a great job of letting it go. But it was better than last time, so that's progress.
He headed for his computer and wrote a reply, a long reply, most of it angry ranting along the lines of how when a guy who has literally hundreds of other guys at his disposal who are all trained to follow orders and kill people, threatens you, voice cold and certain, with having those guys grab you, drag you onto a ship, cut your genitals off and rape you, you sure as hell don't say No to him. You do whatever the hell he wants you to do and you do it exactly the way he wants it done. There was maybe a two page long run about how what stopped the shooting practice was him being three seconds away from killing John and if that was their definition of "saying no" something was very seriously wrong with them. Five pages of see that woman next to me in that photo? Yeah. Think it's easy to be her? Think it takes strength to dress counter culture and act even further counter culture? You know why she could do it? Because she grew up with people who cherished and adored her.
He looked at it, fifteen pages in total, hit ctr-A and ctr-C, put it into a different document, for him to keep for himself, and then deleted it from the original email.
Then he wrote a shorter note.
Bullshit.
It doesn't work that way. Never has, never will.
I can be that man because I'm surrounded by people who love and encourage me.
I was not that child. I was scared and nervous and timid because the people I loved most, trusted most, thought it was their mission in life to terrorize me.
I could have been that child, wanted to be him, curious, fearless, able to be who I wanted, but you and Dad made sure that didn't happen.
I don't care what you thought you were doing. I'm not interested in any justifications. Who I was should have been good enough, but it wasn't, and you and Dad decided I needed to be someone else.
Sarah or Penny will tell you when Kelly's born. They'll send pictures.
We'll talk again, eventually.
I'll call when I can.
I am extremely angry.
I still love you.
Tim
He looked at it and knew it was true. He loves his mom. And maybe it's habit, he's used to loving her, so he does. Maybe she doesn't deserve it. But no matter what it is, it's true.
But mostly, he realizes that a huge part of the pain of this is mourning for the fact that they will never get back to normal. The easy relationship, the trust they had is over.
He's lost the ability to hold her blameless, and she's lost the protection of his father being the only bad guy.
And he realizes something else is gone, too. That by holding her responsible for her actions, he's lost the last shred of his childhood.
Seeing things as they are and going from there, at its core, that's adulthood.
Next
Chapter 220: An Adult
Usually Tim checks his email about five times a day, if not more. Due to rule number three, (never be unreachable) he's always got his phone nearby. But after talking to his mom, he's fairly sure she'll call again or send an email or something. And maybe get ahold of Sarah or Penny (Though he trusts that Penny will be a dead end for her. Ducky's certainly told her about what happened. The fact that she's in San Francisco this week is probably the only reason she hasn't been over to visit.) to try and reach him.
So, he turned it off, put it on the little table beside their front door, and went off the grid for three days. The people he wants to have contact with know where he is and how to get him if need be, and that's enough.
He wrote, a lot. Burying himself in jazz and the sound of his typewriter clicking away. Like with being trapped in the freezer he started as MacGregor, let himself have the distance he needed and worked it out plot point by plot point, organized it, gave it shape, treated it like character backstory.And after a few hours of that, and a few confrontation scenes ranging from MacGregor killing all of them in an extremely messy and gory way to just yelling at them, he slid into his own voice and spent most of that day free writing, just letting it out.
He wasn't exactly feeling sexy that night, mostly just tired and wrung out, but they went to bed, and Abby wrapped him in her body, gently making love to him, reminding him, vividly, that he is adored, and that no matter how bad this hurts, and that she understands that it hurts, that there is still pleasure.
And it helped.
Nothing changed, but it made him feel good, let him not hurt for a little bit, so that was a step forward.
Saturday morning he opened his phone and began to go through the huge pile of email, texts, and calls.
Seven from his sister, so yeah, his mom must have called her.
Three from Penny.
But only one email from her.
The voicemails from Penny confirmed that yes, Ducky had told her what was going on, and yes, his mom and sister had called her, and that she'd more or less let loose on his mom double-barreled and had told his sister what was going on and that he'd give her a call when he could talk.
He flashed her a quick text. Thank you. Still feeling pretty quiet. Will call you soon.
A minute later he got one back. I know. Love you. He closed his eyes and sighed.
Then he read through the texts from his sister, mostly along the lines of: What the hell is going on? Mom's hysterical, you've dropped off the face of the planet, Ben's pissed because she's so upset, and Dad's currently unreachable. What happened? The last one read: Talked to Penny. I get it. Call me when you can.
He sent her one back that said: Not feeling very social right now. We'll have lunch soon, though.
He got back: With Penny, too?
Yeah. Probably a good idea.
His fingers hovered over the button for his mom's email for a good minute. He's not sure he wants to see what's in there. But the subject is Why with no question mark, so the only thing he wants to know might be in there.
Of course, knowing might rip the very fragile peace he's got right now to shreds. But not knowing means he can't focus on anything else. So he hits the button and it opens.
It's a picture of him and Abby. Sarah must have snapped it, though he doesn't remember that. It's the night they went to the Japanese restaurant, him all shaved and kilted, her in the cheongsam. He's holding the door open for her, and she's stepping into the restaurant.
It's a close enough shot that it's clear he's wearing makeup, but far enough back to see the kilt, too.
His mom attached it to a short message that said: The goal was for you to be strong enough to be a man who could do this. The summer you were fourteen, I didn't step in until it was clear that you wouldn't say no to him. Once it was, I ended it. When you said no to shooting practice, he stopped it. It was always about making you strong enough to stand up for yourself.
You needed to be able to stand up for your interests, for your loves, and say no to anyone who would push you around.
You had to be strong enough to say no to him.
And when you ripped up the Annapolis letter, you were.
His first response, a flare of hot, blinding rage, wasn't very useful. He felt it pulse through him as he read the email, and then tried to let it go.
Big, destructive, angry hissy fit wasn't good for anyone, and he's got people who are depending on him right now. He forgot that, got too lost in himself and the anger before, and lucked out because nothing bad happened on all the other fronts of his life, giving him the time he needed to heal up. But it would have been so easy for things to just go sideways.
He can't knock himself out of commission. Abby needs him, so he can't be healing up from anything.
And maybe he didn't do a great job of letting it go. But it was better than last time, so that's progress.
He headed for his computer and wrote a reply, a long reply, most of it angry ranting along the lines of how when a guy who has literally hundreds of other guys at his disposal who are all trained to follow orders and kill people, threatens you, voice cold and certain, with having those guys grab you, drag you onto a ship, cut your genitals off and rape you, you sure as hell don't say No to him. You do whatever the hell he wants you to do and you do it exactly the way he wants it done. There was maybe a two page long run about how what stopped the shooting practice was him being three seconds away from killing John and if that was their definition of "saying no" something was very seriously wrong with them. Five pages of see that woman next to me in that photo? Yeah. Think it's easy to be her? Think it takes strength to dress counter culture and act even further counter culture? You know why she could do it? Because she grew up with people who cherished and adored her.
He looked at it, fifteen pages in total, hit ctr-A and ctr-C, put it into a different document, for him to keep for himself, and then deleted it from the original email.
Then he wrote a shorter note.
Bullshit.
It doesn't work that way. Never has, never will.
I can be that man because I'm surrounded by people who love and encourage me.
I was not that child. I was scared and nervous and timid because the people I loved most, trusted most, thought it was their mission in life to terrorize me.
I could have been that child, wanted to be him, curious, fearless, able to be who I wanted, but you and Dad made sure that didn't happen.
I don't care what you thought you were doing. I'm not interested in any justifications. Who I was should have been good enough, but it wasn't, and you and Dad decided I needed to be someone else.
Sarah or Penny will tell you when Kelly's born. They'll send pictures.
We'll talk again, eventually.
I'll call when I can.
I am extremely angry.
I still love you.
Tim
He looked at it and knew it was true. He loves his mom. And maybe it's habit, he's used to loving her, so he does. Maybe she doesn't deserve it. But no matter what it is, it's true.
But mostly, he realizes that a huge part of the pain of this is mourning for the fact that they will never get back to normal. The easy relationship, the trust they had is over.
He's lost the ability to hold her blameless, and she's lost the protection of his father being the only bad guy.
And he realizes something else is gone, too. That by holding her responsible for her actions, he's lost the last shred of his childhood.
Seeing things as they are and going from there, at its core, that's adulthood.
Next
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