Keryl Raist's Blog, page 41

Shards To A Whole: An NCIS Fanfiction

McGee centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Head here.
10.
Things begin to shift when Wolf shows up.  Tim's hopeful that maybe Abby might start talking to Wolf, because, from what he can see she's not talking to anyone. And she needs to talk to someone.
Which isn't to say that Tim, personally, wants to talk to Wolf.
He's in the conference room with someone who calls him "The Pensive Academic" and wants see how he's coping since the bombing. It's not exactly Tim's idea of comfortable, let alone fun.
He's getting ready to fill the hour with generalities when something occurs to him, Wolf might be useful for getting more advice about being in a good place for a relationship. Since actually moving forward on the relationship issue is currently stalled out, he's been doing all he can to try and be ready for a relationship, when the time is right to start moving forward. Maybe Wolf can help with that.
"This conversation is confidential, right?"
"Right. Nothing you say leaves this room. In fact, I barely keep notes, just a few lines to let myself know what is going on, like Dr. Cranston's 'Tribal Names.'"
"Hmmm..." Couldn't hurt to bounce this off someone who studies humans and how they interact for a living. "Well, then... I was frantically downloading the contents of my computer because, apparently, I'm a moron. I could have picked it up and carried it out of the building faster than putting it on a thumb drive." Wolf looks like he's about to say something, and Tim shakes his head, letting him know this is just backstory. "Then I was picking myself up off the ground, looking around at the destruction and thinking how amazing it was that I was alive, and apparently unhurt.
"It was kind of funny actually, I was thinking about how my neck was sore, like I might have pulled it when I fell. And how Tony and Ziva were going to tease me about how I got blown up, and all I ended up with was a sore neck. And then Gibbs was there, and we were talking, and then he was looking really worried, which scared me, because Gibbs is never worried.  I looked down saw the glass, looked back up at Gibbs, and he had sort of cupped my face in his hand, and put his other arm around my shoulders, like a hug. It was really tender and gentle, and I almost wet my pants at that point because... well... Gibbs hugging me... If you're a guy and Gibbs is hugging you, you're about to die, so yeah, scared.
"He got me down on the floor and ran off for help, and I decided it was time to stop coasting through life. Time to start moving toward the things I really wanted."
"And what do you really want?" Wolf asks.
"Abby. A family. Are you married?"
Wolf held up his left hand, a gold band was on his forth finger. "For a little over a year now."
"You like it?"
"Yes. I do."
"How did you know you were ready for it?"
Wolf seems to think about that. Tim gets the idea that he rarely gets asked questions like this. Romantic advice probably isn't something that comes up too much being a crisis counselor for NCIS.
"I woke up next to Lisa one morning, and I realized I never wanted to wake up in a bed that didn't have her in it."
Tim nods. "Is that how you knew you were ready to get married, or ready to be with her?"
"They aren't the same thing?" Wolf seems genuinely intrigued with where Tim is taking this.
"My parents are divorced. Gibbs has been divorced three times. Tony's longest lasting relationship is with Ziva, and I think the reason that's true is because they won't let themselves be in love. I'm sure Ducky has half a dozen grand romances, but he's alone now. I don't have a lot of role models who have managed the whole married thing. Everyone I know has been in love, even Tony, but keeping it going seems to be an entirely different thing. Palmer tells me finding the right person is the key ingredient, but I'm worried it might not be. I'm trying to make sure that I'm in a good place to do the forever thing. It seems like forever takes more than just I-love-you and I don't want to mess this up."
"And have you drawn any conclusions from watching the people around you?"
"Almost. I'm thinking you can either be married to your work, or married to your spouse, but not both, because both doesn't work. But Vance is married, and happily from everything anyone can tell, and he's here all the time, too. Plus, even if being married to your job in general is a bad thing, Abby works here as well, so when I'm here, I'm near her. When I'm not in the field, I spend about half my time working in her lab. I reliably see her five days a week, for at least an hour or two a day, and we eat dinner together a few days a week on top of that."
"So, why haven't you two ever..."
"We did. When we first met. It didn't end badly or anything. We never formally broke up. Of course we were never formally dating, either."
"So, basically, one day you stopped having sex, and pretty much everything else about your relationship stayed the same."
"We didn't spend as much time together in the beginning. Though we spend more time together now than we did then. And we're much better friends now. Know each other way better now."
"But you did stop having sex?"
"Yeah. Nine years ago."
"Any relationships since then?"
"Nothing I'd call a relationship. A few catastrophes. A disaster. The inspiration for a horror story I wrote a while back. A few hopeful false starts that crashed and burned like the Hindenburg. These days, when a woman is interested in me, she's more likely to be a suspect in a murder we haven't found yet, a spy for a different government, Tony, or some other mess just waiting to happen."
Wolf ponders that for a moment, and Tim can see either of the two directions he's going to take this. Is he sabotaging his relationships so nothing lives up to Abby, or is he fixating on Abby as the only relationship in recent memory that wasn't a disaster.
"Are you sure you aren't clinging to the idea of Abby as a safe haven?" Choice number two.
Tim thinks about that for a long time. "That's not impossible. But she was the first thing I thought of when I realized I was hurt. She was the one who drove me home from the hospital, and held my hand that night, and when Palmer got engaged, and when other people have talked to me about love, or being in love, she's always the one who comes to mind. We didn't get to go to Palmer's wedding, and he hasn't gotten around to the party, yet, but even before all this, I had planned to get a few dances in with Abby."
Wolf seems to think this makes sense. "So, what have you been doing about this?"
"Nothing romantic. I spend more time with her. But she's hurting, badly, and the last thing she needs is me putting the moves on her. I can wait until she's feeling better."
"You'll think she'll get better?"
"Yeah. It's part of who she is. Kate died. Jenny died. Franks died. The world turns upside down, and we lose people we love. She takes a while to deal with it, cries on Gibbs' shoulder, and eventually comes through it. But, I'm hoping this is the last time Gibbs is the one she cries on."
"Are you jealous of Gibbs' relationship with Abby?"
"No. He might as well be her dad. And she might as well be Kelly." Wolf doesn't appear to know who that is. "Gibbs did have one good marriage. But his first wife and daughter were killed. Kelly was his little girl. Abby was very close to her father, and he died when she was sixteen. She and Gibbs found each other. He needs to be a dad. She needs a dad. So they just work.  No, I'm not jealous, just hoping that the next time we have to mourn someone, that I'll be her number one man."  
Wolf watches him for a while. "Tim, I think you're going to do just fine."
"Thanks. I can't say getting blown-up was fun, but I think it's been useful."
"How about professionally? Did getting blown up do anything about that?"
"Not really. I'm where I want to be, doing what I want, with people I love. A few months ago, Vance offered me head of Cyber-Crimes in Okinawa, and I turned him down.  Gibbs will hit mandatory retirement age in a few years, and we'll have to break up then, but for right now, holding onto what we've got makes a lot of sense."
"You're willing to give up career advancement to stay with the people you love?"
"Yes. I don't do this because I have to. I make enough writing to support myself. I do this because it's important and because I'm happy here."
"You may just be the sanest person I've talked to all day."
"Thanks, I think."

38 Weeks: The Twenty-Eigtht Week

A/N: Burn Notice romantic fluff with a side of angst. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.



Week 28 
"So,have you given any thought to what kind of birth you'd like?" Doctor Johnson asks them at the close of their appointment."What do you mean?""Lots of parents write up birth plans; they pick what sort of atmosphere they'd like to labor in, decide what level of intervention they want.""I was under the impression that the baby pretty much made that decision," Fi said."That's more or less true. Yes, how the baby comes calls most of the shots. But if you have a normal delivery you can pick how much pain medication you want, whether or not you want an episiotomy, if you want to be laboring moving around or in water.  What level of monitoring you want. That sort of thing.""Are you suggesting some women chose to go through the pain without medication?" Fi asks, looking at Doctor Johnson like she's some sort of bizarre alien that's just crawled out of a very deep hole and is speaking to her in a language she's never even dreamed of hearing before.Now it's the doctor's turn to look at Fi like she's some sort of alien. "Yes. Natural childbirth is very popular. We even offer classes on it."Michael and Fi are both looking at the doctor like she's insane. It's true that Michael isn't a huge fan of pain medication if he's got to be able to think and do; it's also true that he sees no need to go through unnecessary pain. Likewise, Fi's been shot, stabbed, dealt with broken bones, sprains, strains, burns and various other injuries, and she's very much a fan of pain medication.So, they're both staring at the doctor in horror at the idea that some people think skipping the pain meds is a good idea. It's one thing if you've got to finish a job, run a con, or keep your head clear. It's a whole other thing when the only thing you've got planned post-pain is sleeping, eating, and dealing with a baby.  Fi spends another moment looking at Doctor Johnson. "I'd like the kind of birth where I get lots of drugs and the baby comes out quickly.""Those things don't always go hand in hand. The drugs can slow down the baby coming.""Uh huh...""How do you feel about c-sections?" Johnson asks."What do you mean? If you need one, you need one.""Some women try to do everything they can to avoid one.""I'm not suggesting that we set one up now, but If I need one, I'm all in favor of a c-section.""Anything that gets the baby out with both of them healthy is fine with me," Michael added, feeling a little superfluous to this conversation."Okay. And have you given any thought to post-baby birth control?"Fi shrugs. At this point, she knows there's not much likelihood of there being time for another baby. But if one happens, one happens. "Not really. Honestly, I've probably only have a year or so where it'll even be an issue.""So, if it does end up being a c-section, you're not thinking of getting your tubes tied, as well?""No. It can be, what, a year before you start ovulating again, and that'll put me at almost forty-six.""There abouts, if you breastfeed. Most of the time, at least. But don't think breastfeeding will work as birth control. You wouldn't believe how many Irish twins I've delivered because breastfeeding didn't do the job.""Irish twins?""You know, two babies in one year.""No, I didn't know." Fi looks huffy about that, and Michael remembers that her brothers Stephen and Allan are less than a year apart."So, what do you suggest?" he asks, looking to diffuse this. "Just give it some thought. Fiona's right, menopause will probably hit soon, but if you want something permanent, now is the time to be thinking about that. For example, if you're thinking a vasectomy, before the baby shows up is a much better idea than after. Among other things, you aren't supposed to lift anything that weights more than ten pounds, you know, like a baby, for a week after one." That was something Michael actually did know. Back in his mid-thirties he had been thinking about it, but the recovery time was something he couldn't see fitting into his job. "I'll keep that in mind.""So, other things to think about: do you want a midwife or doula? Will your family or friends be coming for the birth? Do you want to do it at the hospital, a birthing center, or at home? Granted, for women in your age group we strongly suggest the hospital or a birthing center, but so far you've been doing fine, so home is an option.""What's a doula?" Mike asks, but he can see Fi's thinking the same thing."A birth coach. Someone who helps you handle labor and makes sure things go according to plan.""How does that even work?" Fi asks. "Not like a doula can keep labor moving along or the baby from going into distress.""Honestly, I think it's a mind over matter thing. A doula helps to keep you two calm, and calm parents tend to have an easier time with labor and delivery.""Okay. I think we're both a little better at handling stress than Joe and Jane Average," Fi said."You might be, but you've also never done this before. A lot of parents find having a baby very exciting but scary, as well.""Sure. Anything else we should be thinking about?" Michael asked. "Nursery decor?  You've got everything you need for the part of it I'll be handling."
 **************************
"Nursery decor... You know, we do need to do something about that," Fi says as they walk back to the Charger."I know. Sam, Jesse, and I have been planning out a few modifications that we want to get set before decorating anything.""What are you thinking?""Rebar re-inforced walls, extra alarms, bulletproof windows, emergency exit into the basement. Stuff like that.""And you don't tell me about this?""I was going to." Michael smiles, realizing he should have kept quiet."Before or after you got the tools out and started building?""Before." She gives him the cut-the-bull look. "While we were getting the tools out.""You don't want me involved with planning?""No, it's just...  We were at Carlitos, and you were with your mom and mine, and we thought it might be nice if you came home one afternoon and found it all done.  It's not like Jesse's gonna be hosting a baby shower anytime soon, and the guys wanted to do something."Fi smiles. "That is sweet. And Barry and your mom are hosting the baby shower.""What?" Michael looks deeply alarmed by the idea of Barry and a baby shower."It's supposed to be a surprise. So, act like you don't know about it.""If it's supposed to be a surprise, how do you know about it?""I overheard Barry and your Mom talking about it. Either they're hosting a baby shower, or there's going to be a lot of food and pink decorations at a very strange party on Saturday." "Uh huh. So, anyway, what sorts of nursery decorations do you want? I can't see filling a room with pink bows and frills, even if she is a girl."Fi thinks about it. "White walls, seashell pink trim, and foam green accents.""I can do that. Pick colors for us, and we will paint.""I'll paint, too."Michael shrugs, he wouldn't be volunteering to paint if he didn't have to. "If you want to. Or you could go do something none of the rest of us want to do, something you like and we don't..." Fi looks interested at this idea. A mission! It's been a long time, and a longer time yet is coming. "You could go shopping and get baby furniture, clothing, and all the rest of that stuff, while we paint.""Really Michael, shopping?""You like to shop. I don't. Jesse and Sam certainly have no interest in shopping for baby gear. Take our moms, have a day of it. It'll be fun.""Says the man who is desperately trying to avoid being part of said day.""It'll be fun for you." Michael smiles brightly again. Fi's not buying it. "It'll be fun for them.""That I believe."
********************
Three days later, as Katherine and Madeline question Fi about her latest doctor's appointment, they get back to what sort of birth they want to have."I remember when the whole 'natural childbirth' thing started. I had Michael the old-fashioned way. Go to the hospital, spend however many hours in labor while your husband paces and smokes, or in Frank's case, drinks, in the waiting room, and when the time comes they knock you out and you wake up with a baby. But by the time Nate came along, this natural childbirth thing was starting to get some attention. Suddenly, they wanted the father to be in the room with you while it happened, and I can tell you that was one of the few times Frank and I saw eye to eye. I didn't want him in that room, and he didn't want to be there.""He wasn't there for either birth?" Fi asks."No. And the last thing I needed was a sarcastic drunk fighting with me while I dealt with labor.""Your Da wasn't there for your birth, either.""Da was in jail when I was born.""Your Da wasn't there for any of your births. He and the lads were at the pub celebratin'  the new wee one. The only man invited to the birth was the doctor. There are some things your husband" and she stares at Michael, who was in the kitchen, prepping ingredients for dinner, trying to pretend he wasn't there, "should never see, and squeezin' out a baby is at the top of the list. Some images a man just shouldn't have in his head.  Trust me, luv, you want a certain level of..." Katherine seems to be hunting for a word, "mystery about that bit of you, and he's never going to feel the same way about it if he sees ya havin' a baby."There are times when Michael has wished not to be part of conversations, times when he's tried to get out of them, tried to blend into the walls and pretend he wasn't there, but he has never, ever been so keenly interested in vanishing as he is now. He has never, ever had any desire to know anything about his mother's, or his mother-in-law's, sex life or how having a baby (or in Katherine's case, seven) affected that. But both his mom and Fi's seem to think this is a fine time to talk with her about the subject, completely ignoring the fact he's in the room, or possibly seeing if he can be made to spontaneously combust from embarrassment. The truth is he does want to be there for the birth. And no, he couldn't care less about actually seeing it happen up close and personal, if Fi would rather he's holding her hand and next to her head the whole time, that's fine, but he doesn't want her alone and in pain. They got into this together, it's only right that they should go to the next step of it together, as well.The other truth is he's not terribly interested discussing this with his mom or Fiona's. But all three of them are staring at him, waiting for him to say something about this. "I was planning on being there. In fact, the doctor said you two could be there if you wanted to."Ahhh... Good, that's got them talking with each other about if they want to be there.  He finished chopping up the vegetables, and decides now would be a very good time to start the grill.Fi comes out five minutes later. "I hope you're happy. They both want to be there for it. Can't wait to offer support and see the brand new baby.""Extra support might be a good thing. Sort of like a doula, but our moms.""Were you thinking a doula sounded good?""No. Didn't want any strangers there.""Me either.""And if you don't want our moms there, I'll make sure they aren't.""I'd rather it was just us. They weren't there when we made the baby, and they don't need to be there when it comes out.""Okay. What else do you want?"She sighs. "I don't know. Just... for her to come out and be healthy. I don't care about water births, natural births, chanting...""Chanting?""It was in one of the pamphlets Doc Johnson gave us.""Okay.""Just you and me, and as few other people as possible.""Then it'll be you and me and as few other people as possible." He thinks about that. "Does that mean you want to do it at home?" Michael's a half decent medic, especially for someone with no formal training, and he figures he can handle an uncomplicated birth if it comes to that."You and me, at a hospital, where there's plenty of doctors if the need arises, sounds fine to me.""Then you and me, at the hospital, with doctors if necessary, and no chanting.""Definitely no chanting." Fi smiles at him, and he pets her cheek."I'll go tell our moms that I'm more comfortable without them at the birth." 

Shards To A Whole: An NCIS Fanfiction

McGee centric character-study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
9.
It turns out, what he was waiting for was Abby to get out of mourning.
He works on being a good friend, and as a good friend, who's spending more, quite a bit more, time than is strictly necessary in the lab, he's noticed she's a wreck.
It's true that Abby's Goth isn't about keeping people away. It's not a shield the way his Geek is. If you ask Abby if she's a Goth, she'll tell you no, she's a scientist. He didn't get what she meant by that back the first time he heard it. But he does now. Her Goth is about containing death, and keeping it in a tidy box where she can deal with it, and lately it's gotten out of that box, and it's completely freaking her out.
He knows her parents died in a car accident when she was sixteen. He suspects that's when she dyed her hair, put on her black, and got her Goth on.  Maybe if she could immerse herself in death, maybe if she could make friends with it, show it she was a beautiful person, full of love and kindness, it would stay away.
Of course, it doesn't. She keeps up her end of the deal, but it doesn't. It can't.  He wonders sometimes what she was like when her hair was blonde and her clothing unbedecked with skulls and bone.

She's working full out, all the time, keeping her mind busy with cases, trying to keep death away. He works more too, looking for excuses to be in the lab, but he goes home most nights achy and bleary from tiredness, leaving her still in the lab, alone.

So he judges that now is the time to be a good friend, and trying to do anything more than that would be very bad timing.
And so, he waits.

"Abby."
"Hmrhg?" She's slumped on her desk, and he wasn't sure if she was entirely asleep, or just close to it, but either way, actually laying down would help.
"Come on, it's time to go home. Or at least time to crash in your office."
She looks up at him, eyes bleary, face so sad. "I've got work, McGee."
"Nothing that needs to be done right now. It's after twelve."
"Then why are you still here?"
He can see her getting defensive, and decides right now that she won't react well to the idea that he's been keeping an eye on her and is worried, so a not-too-far-from-the-truth lie is in order.  "I went out with Tony for dinner and then came back here to finish up paperwork. I just got done, was on my way out, and saw your car. Come on, I'll take you home if you're too tired to drive."
"I don't want to go home."
"Why not? You've been working late a whole lot lately." This would be a massive understatement. She's been working non-stop lately. He knows she's freaked out from the bombing. And he's been leaving encouraging words to Ziva, because, well, if any of them know how to get through something like this, it's her.
She doesn't answer, and begins poking at her computer. He moves to her side, and turns her chair toward him. "Come on, talk to me."
"I can't. If I talk it becomes real, and if it's real, it can get me."
He pulls her close, wrapping her in a warm hug.  "When was the last time you got a full night's sleep?"
"Since before the..." She doesn't finish that sentence.
He kisses the top of her head. "And you're not going to sleep tonight, are you?"
"No."
"Then if you can't sleep, let's see if we can get you some rest and relaxing. Come on." He tugs her gently to her office, and lays out the mat she sleeps on in there, putting Burt at the one end, to act as a pillow. "Lay down, boots, lab coat, and collar off, and I'll give you a back rub."
He turns his back, not sure why, she's not taking off anything particularly interesting, but still, privacy and all.
Burt's flatulent bleat let him know she was on the mat. He turns and finds that she has taken off her shirt.
"Oh."
Her eyes are closed. "It's not a problem is it?"
"Nah. I've seen your back before." In his dreams, when he closes his eyes, during a decent percentages of his fantasies. Yeah, he's seen her back, and he loves it dearly.  "Do you have any oil or something like that?" If she's going to take her clothing off, he might as well do a good job of it.
"I've got some hand lotion in my desk."
"Okay. I'll get that."  He rummages through the top drawer until he finds a bottle of Jergens Original Scent.  Then he heads over to her stereo. Her iPod is in there, and he takes a moment to sort through it for something soft and soothing. Nothing is really jumping out at him as fitting the bill, until he sees The Airborne Toxic Event. Another minute has a playlist set. Sure, it's sad and wistful, but at least it's not a hard thumping beat best played on maximum volume.
The Graveyard By The House kicks off the playlist. It certainly seemed like an Abby song, and it kind of touched on why they were here, so why not?
Tim sits on the floor next to her. If they were dating, he'd straddle her hips. But they aren't dating, so he sits next to her, and twists, a little awkwardly, squirting some of the lotion onto his hands.
He'd call it artificial cherry scented.  Not unpleasant, but it's not that distinctly Abby scent either. It's probably a note in the scent he thinks of as Abby, along with the tang of CaffPow, the high, perfumy scent of her fabric softener, a mellow, artificial-cucumbery scent that's her hair conditioner, and a dark, black roses and dragon's blood, scent that he knows is her perfume.
His hands know the routine. Granted they haven't done this, skin on skin, in years, but he's certainly given her back rubs, and received them many times over the years.  With the sorts of hours they work, getting time for R&R is hard to do, so they work on each other.  He's worked on Ziva, and though he'd never admit it, Tony, on occasion as well. The only one who never seems to need any back work is Gibbs, and Tim suspects that's because Gibbs isn't technically human.
"You know, I've never given Gibbs a backrub." It probably seems like a random opening line, but if he's going to just keep his voice lulling away in a sort of cloud of white noise, it's not a bad start.
"I think you'd have to shoot Gibbs with a tranquillizer dart before he'd let a guy give him a backrub."She sounds a little sleepy as she says that. He hopes it's a good sign. His hands slide over her skin, long, soft strokes designed to encourage sleep.
"You're probably right about that. Though maybe Fornell..."
Abby giggles a little, and he's happy to see her do that. "There's an image. The two of them giving each other backrubs and complaining about their ex-wife."
"How did they both end up married to the same woman?"
"I think, and I don't know for sure, because Ducky won't give me all the details, but anyway, I think she was married to Gibbs, and things weren't going so hot. So somehow, she met Fornell through Gibbs. Maybe they were working a case together or something."
"You know they're friends, right. I mean, real friends. Tony tells me he's run into Fornell at Gibbs' place a whole bunch of times. They hang out and have dinner at least once a week."
"Interesting. So maybe he's invited his buddy over for dinner. Maybe it's happened a lot. Somehow Mrs. Gibbs falls for Mr. Fornell, and rapidly becomes Mrs. Fornell."
"She left Gibbs for Fornell?"
"I think so. And if not, it looks like there wasn't too long between the divorce and starting things up with Fornell."
"Huh."
A Letter To Georgia started to play. Soft, sweet, slow, and melancholy. Just about perfect for this.
"I love this song," Tim says while he leans more of his weight into her back, stretching her spine.
She sighs, looking like she's enjoying the touch. "I didn't know you liked Toxic Airborne Event."
"You were playing them down here a while back, and I liked it, so I downloaded it when I got home. I got The Indelicates and Stars from you, too."
"So you've raided my soft rock collection."
"Not sure I'd call it soft rock."
"Okay, not 'soft rock', but my not-so-hard music."
"Yeah." 
They talked like that, random gossip, little bits and pieces of fluff, for almost an hour. Tim kept trying to let the conversation drift off, but Abby would keep bringing new things up. When Duet ended and the music finally stopped, Tim rested his hands on her shoulders, just letting them sit there for a moment.
"I was kind of hoping you'd fall asleep."
"I know."
"If I tuck you in, will you at least try?"
"If I sleep, I'll dream, and if I dream..."
He waited for her to finish that sentence, but it didn't seem like an end was coming.
"What'll happen if you dream?"
"My nightmares will come back."
He stood up and turned his back to her again. "Put your shirt back on."
A few seconds later she said "Okay."
Abby was sitting up on the mat, twisting her neck, and flexing her shoulders. Tim sat down next to her.
"When I was a kid, there was a series of novels I loved. One of the characters had chronic nightmares. He'd wake up, night after night, screaming. And his brother, who loved him dearly, would offer to stand watch, and keep the nightmares away." He patted Burt. "Lay down, get some sleep. I'll stand watch and keep the nightmares away."
"You'll be Caramon?"
"You've read them?" His eyes went wide. Sure, a lot of people had read the DragonLance books, and Abby was likely to be the kind of person who had done that, he just didn't think she'd still remember them thirty years later.
"Of course. I wanted to be Tika, but I always had a soft spot for Raistlin."
"Everyone did."
"Who were you?"
"Riverwind."
"The man who went on the eight year long quest to win the woman he loved."
"Something like that." He squeezes her hand, signaling he knows this is more stalling. "Now, lay down. Tonight I'll be Caramon and guard your sleep."

Hours later he jerks awake. He's sitting, back against Abby's desk, his legs draped across hers. He rubs his eyes, twists his very sore neck, and looks up to see Gibbs is standing over him, finger to his lips signaling quiet. Abby's laying on the mat, sleeping.
Tim doesn't see an easy way to get up without waking her up. He's got to get his legs off of hers, and spending the night sleeping sitting up against her desk means that everything below his hips are asleep. Gibbs puts the Caff-Pow on Abby's desk and offers Tim a hand, levering him off the floor.
He limps out of her office after Gibbs. Gibbs slides the door to her office shut.
"Whatever it was you did to get her to sleep, thanks."
Tim's wincing as he turns his head to the left. "Broke my spine, I think. But, yeah, she needed the rest."
"You did good, Tim."
Tim nods, feeling very happy to hear that. "Thanks, Boss."

38 Weeks: The Twenty-Seventh Week

A/N: Burn Notice romantic fluff with a side of angst. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.



Week 27:
"Why does Seymour want to meet us?""He didn't say over the phone," Fi said to Michael as they sat down at Carlito's."Somehow, I don't think this is going to work well with our stay away from explosions plan.""Probably not, but if there was ever anyone we owe a favor...""Yeah, I know. Barry shows up tomorrow with a problem, and we'll go all in for him, too.""Don't ever tell him I said it, and probably it's just the hormones talking, but that spikey-haired weasel really is growing on me. I almost cried when we opened his wedding present."Michael shrugs; it was an especially nice gift. After all, who doesn't appreciate twenty thousand in untraceable cash packed in a chafing dish?  Fi sips her water, and he drinks his iced-tea as Seymour heads toward them. "Michael, Fi, thanks for..." His voice trails off as his eyes drop to their hands. "You two got married! Destiny. I told you, 'Don't try to fight destiny.' Congratulations.""Thanks Seymour." Michael says, feeling a little odd seeing Seymour gloating at them. "So, what can we do for you?"Seymour suddenly looks serious, focused, almost like someone who might be good at multi-national gunrunning. It occurs to Michael that Seymour's crazy exterior might be an act, something he does to keep his enemies underestimating him. Well, maybe it's not entirely an act, but it's not all there is to him, either."Remember Jackass?""Yes." Michael says feeling cold, sure whatever is going to come next isn't going to be good."Okay. Jackass had a girlfriend. She's dead. He's in prison for it.""And you want our help to... what, break him out?" Michael asks."If it comes to that. Look, I know for a fact that Jackass didn't do it because he and I were busy at the time, but what we were doing isn't going to make a good alibi, and will probably involve more prison time that just the murder rap.""So, why do they think it was him?" Fi wanted to know."The girlfriend was married to a CSI.""Oh." And there was the not good part. Tangling with dirty cops might be fun, but do it too often and you end up burning a lot of bridges."Yeah. She was strangled with Jackass's tie. His DNA was all over the place, including inside the knot of the tie, his fingerprints were on her glasses, and since the only people who can confirm he wasn't at her place that night are me and a half-dozen Nigerians...""I see. So you want this case to go away," Fi said."Or at least make it clear that he's been set up. I've got him a great lawyer, but even the best lawyer on Earth can't fight that much physical evidence. If that evidence were to be thrown out...""Do you have anything on this CSI?" Michael asked.And Seymour did. They spent a few minutes looking over Seymour's files, starting to hash out something of a plan to get the cops looking in the right direction.   "Excuse me. I'll be back in a minute." Fi stands up.Watched in real time, what happened next was very fast and resulted in the table tipped over, Seymour kneeling on the floor held in a thumb lock by Michael, and Fi touching his shoulder, saying, "Michael, I'm fine."The slowed down version went something like this: Seymour's eyes went wide as he saw Fi stand. She was still moving pretty easily, but there was no missing the fact she was pregnant when she stood up. Seymour said, "Oh my God, Fi you're pre—" while jumping up to hug her. He didn't get to finish that sentence and was very quickly saying, "Ow. Owwwww... Dude, calm down, I was just going to hug her," while Michael holds his thumb on the verge of dislocation.Michael is aware of the fact that Fi isn't the only one changing because of her pregnancy. Sure, he's not gaining weight or getting clumsy, but he's definitely not the same guy he was six months ago.And he's really not the same guy he was three months ago.Pretty much, since Fi's been visibly pregnant, his brain hasn't been as in charge as he'd like it to be. Just like the primal, balls-in-charge sort of sexual attraction he's been feeling toward her lately, the desire to make sure she's safe and protected has lowered his ability to rationally assess threats to her.So, while it's true that, if you askedhim, Michael is completely aware of the fact that Seymour not only isn't a threat, but is probably about to do something nice, but no one is asking him. The fact that Seymour is moving quickly toward Fi and the baby has overridden that awareness and the only thing going on in Mike's mind is stopping the thing that is moving so quickly toward them. The good thing is there's enough Mike left in this moment that Seymour's in a thumb lock, and not a chokehold.The other good thing is that he comes back to himself pretty quickly, lets Seymour go, and apologizes while righting the table and looking horribly embarrassed."God, you are such a badass," Seymour says as he gets up. He's shaking his left hand, trying to ease the ache in his thumb, and then gently, slowly, keeping his hand a good ten inches away from Fi, holds it towards her stomach, and says, "May I?"She nods, while Michael picks up glasses and silverware, shaking drops of iced-tea off the files Seymour gave him.  "This is so cool. I can't believe you two are going to have a baby. It's going to be the baddest badass in the history of badass." The baby picks that moment to kick, and Seymour lights up in a huge grin. He, once again, slowly and completely telegraphing what he's going to do before doing it, leans in and kisses Fi on the cheek. "Congratulations."Fi leaves for the bathroom. He and Mike sit back down again while a waitress shows up with new drinks, and another one mops up the spilled ones."I really am sorry about that.""No problem. I was insane when my ex was pregnant, too.""You have a child?""Two of them.  Amy is in college at the University of Pennsylvania, and Seth is a senior in high school. He still lives with his mom.""How do you have two kids?"Seymour laughs. "The usual way. Got my high school sweetheart pregnant, was married by nineteen, divorced by twenty-three. They're still up north. But I got into this as a way to support them. Turns out I was good at it. But she didn't like me doing it and left.""Sorry to hear that."Seymour shakes his head. "We had different destinies. Trying to fight it was futile. She and her new husband are happy. I'm happy with my guns. Just wish I got to see the kids more often."Michael doesn't know what to say to that. He finishes mopping iced tea off the files. It looks like there wasn't too much damage to the paperwork."So, is this CSI dirty in general, or did he just go crazy on Jackass... Seymour, what is his real name? I'm not working on a case where the guy I'm working for is called Jackass.""Melvin Frohike.""And now I see why you gave him a nickname.""Yeah.""Anyway, it looks like he's done a really good job on the chain of evidence on Melvin's problem. But if he's dirty in general, we can probably get IA to start looking into him if there's some evidence of him fixing a case for his own benefit. Once that happens, just about every case he's ever worked on will go under the microscope. And from there we can start to throw some doubt into Melvin's case.""Why not just do it for Jack—Melvin's case.""He's a CSI, and he probably has cop buddies. Cop buddies may be willing to turn a blind eye on framing the guy who was fooling around with his wife. They probably won't turn a blind eye if he's been screwing around with the evidence in such a way that might mess up their conviction rates.""Okay."
Michael grabs his phone. "I'm going to call Sam; he's the one with the cop buddies. Let's see what he's got on this."

Shards to a Whole: An NCIS Fanfiction

McGee centric character study/romance. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
8.
Of course, talking to Palmer, alone, without attracting the attention of Tony and Ziva is a bit of an issue.  But with the office completely upside down during the reconstruction, Tim found an excuse to wander down to Autopsy.
The door slides open, and for a moment Tim doesn't see anyone, besides the bodies, and then Palmer hurries out, way too many folders clutched in his arms. Tim jogs to him.
"Here, let me help."
Jimmy sags with relief as Tim grabs the folders that are about to spill out of his arms. It occurs to Tim that if you call someone fried when they are stressed out, that Palmer is one of those little orphan french fries that get stuck in the fryolator and end up cooking for a full day. He's not fried, he's not burnt, he's charcoal.
"I never realized how much Dr. Mallard does around here," Jimmy says to him.
"We felt that way when Gibbs left. Tony did fine, but we could all see the cracks forming. And you're doing fine, too. It's just not as smooth."
Palmer laughs, bitterly. "Going for understatement of the decade, Tim?" Tim shrugs. "So, who wants what?"
"I want dinner." Tim nodded at the clock, showing it was already eight. "I know you've been here until midnight every night for the last week, so how about we get some real food?"
"I can't leave. Too much to do here. Every minute I'm away is another minute later that I get home."
"Well, if I brought you food, could you take a break for a bit?"
"Probably. What's going on?"
"Would you believe that I want to talk to you?"
Palmer looks startled. He and Tim get along well. Common interests, similar personalities, but they don't just hang out all that often.
"What about?"
Tim thinks about how to phrase this. "It's personal. And, I'd really rather not see this get spread all over NCIS."
Jimmy puts down the folders. "I'm interested." He looks at the clock. "Who am I kidding? I'm not getting this done tonight. Every paper I fill out spawns ten more. Let's go."
There's a burger joint a ten minute walk from the Navy Yard, so they head there. In a matter of minutes they're seated, with drinks, and Palmer is looking much more relaxed. He fires off a text to Brianna, who is fortunately working late tonight, so doesn't mind him being away.
They settle into a booth and Tim asks, "How do you like being married?"
"How would I know what it's like? I've been married for seven days, and haven't been home before midnight on any of them." Tim blanches a little, not realizing that was going to be a sensitive question for Palmer. "I'm sorry, Tim. I miss Brianna. I miss being home. I miss the honeymoon we were supposed to be on right now. I should be in a hotel room with a balcony overlooking the ocean with my wife. I should be eating room service and forgetting what it feels like to wear pants."
Tim gives him that, I-don't-quite-understand-what-you-mean-or-maybe-I-do-and-don't-want-to look, and Palmer gets flustered. "You know, no pants because..." And then he stops and shakes his head. "Tim, if you didn't it, I don't need to explain."
"I get it. That's actually sort of related to why I wanted to talk to you."
"You want to talk to me about sex? Haven't you ever... I mean you and Abby... right?"
Tim rolls his eyes. "I've had sex.  And no, I don't need to talk about sex."
Jimmy grins. "You sure? I'm good at sex."
"I didn't need to know that, Palmer."
"Your loss. So, what, instead of sex, but related to pantslessness, is on your mind."
Tim looks around. Ten minutes from work means this place often has other NCIS personnel in it. But he doesn't see anyone he knows or any badges that look familiar. "Okay, look, I do not want this getting out. You cannot say anything to anyone about this."
"All right." Palmer leans in close, his expression showing that he's enjoying the idea of a great conspiracy.
"I love Abby." Tim says it softly, practically mouthing the words. He expected some sort of shock from Palmer, or at least a bit of startle. But the look on Palmer's face is best described as the kind of expression one wears when told it's sunny outside at twelve noon in the middle of summer. He's never looked less shocked in his life.
"Tim, that's the worst kept secret in the history of secrets. Lee and I was more of a secret than you loving Abby, and everyone found out about that. Everyone knows you love Abby."
"I want to do something about it."
"Oh. That's..." Palmer spends a moment looking at Tim in confusion. The waiter shows up with their food, and he chews a bite of his salad, still looking intently at Tim, confusion not abating. 
"Stop looking at me like that."
"Okay, it's just that, well, scuttlebutt has it that you and Abby have been doing something about it, for, like six years."
"We've both dated other people in that time."
"Scuttlebutt has it you've got an open relationship."
Tim sits there for a few minutes, unable to even think of what to say to that. Finally he comes up with this, "Let me get this straight, there's gossip that, not only do I have Abby, but every now and again, I go on horrendously uncomfortable dates, often resulting in physical harm to my person, just, what, for kicks?"
Palmer blushes. "Ummm.... no. Scuttlebutt has it that you let her go out with other guys to keep her happy, and every now and again you fake a date so that it doesn't look too lopsided."
Tim's mouth, literally, falls open.
"So, I take it that's not true?"
"No, it's not true!
"Not any of it?"
"NO!"
"You two didn't date at all?"
"That part's true. Nine years ago."
"Okay. So, now, nine years later, you want to get back together with her?"
"Yeah."
"So, why are you talking to me?"
"You actually figured out how to build a relationship that survives our work. You know and love Abby, too, so you won't give me idiot advice, and I trust you to keep this quiet, because you know she'll be bummed if it doesn't go off right."
Palmer thinks about that while Tim takes a bite of his burger.
"You're right. Okay, how can I help?"
"How are you doing it? You missed your own wedding for this, and she's, what, understanding?"
"Yes, she understands. And that'll help with Abby, too, she pulls even later nights than you do."
"Okay. So, advice number one, pick the right girl."
"I think that might be advice one to ten thousand and on from there. It won't work with the wrong girl, and no amount of trying will make it work with the wrong girl. I saw the way all of you looked at me when I said I had broken up with Lee. She was way out of my league, and none of you believed it."
"Palmer, all of your girls are way out of your league."
"And Abby isn't out of yours?"
"I know she is, hence nine years of not dating."
"Okay, the point I was making was that Lee wasn't the right girl, and I knew she wasn't the right girl. And the fact that she was beautiful, dangerous, and God, so amazingly sexy, I mean, that woman, the things she—"
"More stuff I didn't need to know, Jimmy."
"Brianna is the right girl."
"How do you know?"
"I just do."
"Aren't you worried about long-term?"
"You mean, like divorce, or something?"
"Yeah. Or the spectacularly messy breakup."
"I pretty much got to enjoy the most spectacularly messy post-break-up ever, and honestly, it wasn't that bad. Not saying I'd want to do it again or anything, but... No, I'm not worried about breaking up with her. Everyone talks about pre-wedding jitters, but I was way more nervous about postponing the reception than the actual vows. Once I was holding her hands saying the words, I knew they were true. How do you feel about Abby?"
"I love her."
"Then what are you afraid of?"
"Not being able to keep it going."
"Let me get this straight, you've been in love with her for nine years, without dating, and you're afraid that once you actually start dating that you won't be able to keep loving her?"
"It sounds kind of silly when you say it that way."
"Yeah, it does. So what are you waiting for?"
"Damned if I know."    

Shards To A Whole: An NCIS Fanfiction.

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


7.
Tim has never had a problem asking for advice when he needs help.
So that's not the problem.
The problem is finding someone to ask.
He's scoured his own mind to try and remember how his last real relationship went, but he was still in grad school the last time he had a girlfriend for more than a year, and the man he is now is so much different from the boy he was then, that it doesn't seem to be a good comparison.
Sooo... who to talk to?
Gibbs is good at helping you see straight, in that silent, you sit next to him, drink some, and epiphanies hit sort of way, but Gibbs has also been divorced a million times, and the closest thing Abby has to a dad.  Plus, if he's trying to keep this quiet to avoid getting tripped up on Rule Number 12, talking to Gibbs about it isn't a brilliant plan. So, he's out.
Ducky—who, Tim is secretly afraid of turning into, the man with the thousand stories and no one at home to tell them to—may have a tale for everything, but has even less practical experience on this than he has. And, while he's sure Ducky will have many fascinating bon mots on the subject, he's also sure that he'd like to talk to someone with a clue as to how to keep a long-running relationship going.
He could talk to his grandmother, but, well, ewwww... Penelope's more likely to want to talk him through the intricacies of the Kama Sutra than help him get into a good headspace for a real relationship. Plus, even if he could get her off of sex, and onto relationshiping? relating? whatever, she'd likely tell him something like stop thinking so much and just do it. Not advice he wants to hear, let alone advice he'd know how to act on.
The idea of Tony enters his mind, and then does an abrupt about face and marches right back out again. Getting advice from a guy whose A: Last successful long-term relationship was an undercover mission. B: Made out with his ex-fiancee back around Valentine's Day, while C: In love with his partner, while D: Being completely unwilling to admit that he is in love with said partner, does not in any way strike Tim as a good idea. Add in the fact that Tony can't keep a hot bit of scuttlebutt to himself, and talking to Tony is a disaster waiting to happen.
Thinking of Tony makes him think of Ziva, who has the advantage of being able to keep a secret, and on top of that, is a woman, so she might have a better idea of what it's like to be the female half of the equation than Gibbs or Tony, but Ziva has the worst relationship track record he can think of. Sure Gibbs might not be a huge fan of his ex-wives, but unlike Ziva's exes, they aren't responsible for killing anyone, or trying to kill anyone, like, you know, Tony.
Director Vance actually has a functional relationship, one that has lasted years, but the mental image of asking Vance for advice literally won't form in Tim's mind. He can't make himself imagine it, and if he can't imagine it, he's really unlikely to be able to do it in real life.
It takes him two full days to figure out that he does know someone to talk to. Someone his age. Someone who is married (barely). Someone who loves Abby, knows her well, and would be willing to keep a secret if said secret would work out well for her.
It's time to talk to Palmer.

38 Weeks: The Twenty-Sixth Week

A/N: Burn Notice romantic fluff with a side of angst. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.



Week Twenty-Six
It was becoming increasingly clear that going into hiding sooner rather than later was a good plan. They'd hit the point where Fi was undeniably pregnant, which meant enemies were likely to start popping up soon. They were having lunch at the Carlito, where one of the waitresses had just told them someone had been asking about Mike, when Fi said, "Madrid?" "I don't speak Spanish, Fi. New Orleans?""New Orleans... maybe. Same country, no language issues, plenty of corruption so we wouldn't be out of work long.""I think part of the idea of running is to get into a new line of work so we don't end up with even more people hunting us.""What could we do? I really doubt we'd be good at office work.""Translation? I speak eight languages, and you speak, what, four?"Fi's expression says exactly how likely that is. They'd both be bored to tears after two days of doing nothing but repeating someone else's words in a different language.  "Legitimate security? Have companies hire us to break in and test what they do? It'd be safe and a bit boring, but we'd be good at it, it would pay well, and we wouldn't have to worry about drug dealers trying to kidnap Abby.""Abby?"Michael shrugs, he's been testing out baby names for a few weeks now, and Fi never knows what will come out of his mouth when he refers to their daughter. "Well, for this week, anyway.""I still like Irene.""Okay... Quebec?"She sips her ice water. "Too cold. I might want to visit snow on occasion, but I don't want to live with it. Montenegro?""Still don't speak Spanish.""How is it you were born and raised in Miami and can't speak Spanish?""Almost everyone here spoke English when I was a kid. And, it turns out, if you've got the kind of tongue that can handle Russian, Pashtun, Farsi, Japanese, Arabic, Urdu, and a little street Gaelic, you end up sounding like you're torturing a cat when you try to speak Spanish. The sounds just aren't the same."Fi shrugs."Johannesburg?" Michael asks."South Africa?""Yeah. Good climate, they speak English, no one we know is there, and there's enough unrest that they'll want security people like us.""How about here?""Fi...?""Stop looking at me like I'm insane. We'd make a big show of moving and keep some sort of residence wherever it is. But for the most part we'd just quietly live here. A new place. Probably not right in the middle of Miami.""What would we do for work?"And back to the same problem again.Fi rested her hands on her belly. "I hate the fact that we basically have to stop being the good guys if we're going to raise this child. It's not supposed to work that way. You save the day, make the wrongs right, and then go home to your family."Michael kissed her. They've been over it before, and will again. "We can meet with more adoptive parents.""No. I hate the way they look at us, even more.  Like we're the answer to all their hopes and dreams, and I know we're just going to disappoint them."He nods. Neither of them are good at having people stare at them like they're holding the lifeline that will make everything better, and then turn around and say, "Nope, can't help."A thought hits. It's nicely warm, properly metropolitan, and people from all over the world go there. "How about Sydney?" "I like Sydney."Michael stares at Fi. "You've been there? What were you doing?""Nothing anyone will ever trace back to me." She swats his hand playfully. "I was just there for fun, as a tourist.""Oh.""Yeah, you know, some people do travel, just for the sake of seeing new places and eating new foods.""How interesting." He's grabs his computer and begins typing Sydney into the search engine, starting to figure out if there might be anywhere they'd like to live in there.Fi scoots her chair next to him, and turns the computer a little so she can see what he's bringing up. It's a picture of the harbor, gleaming water, the orchestra in the background. It looks like a nice place. He staring in the direction of the screen, but not really seeing it. She squeezes his hand. "What are you thinking?""I don't want to be the sort of person who stopped doing what was right. I don't want to tell Abby about how we used to save people and make the world a better place, but then we stopped because it was too dangerous.""Then let's not! We'll stay here. We'll save the day. We'll keep the baby. And sure, we'll be the insanely paranoid parents who are always looking over their shoulders, and we'll drive her crazy when we swoop in with a tactical retrieval team when she's ten minutes late coming home from school. But we aren't the only people in Miami with high-risk kids. And we aren't the only ones with enemies. We can do this.""We'll never sleep again.""Like we would have if we ran."



 

Shards To A Whole: An NCIS Fanfiction

McGee centric romantic fiction. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.
6.
Moving from, I-love-you, you're-my-best-friend to I-love-you-let's-spend-forever-together is a somewhat more daunting task in the light of day.
Abby's gone by the time he's up and moving.
It takes him longer than usual to get showered and dressed.  Just finding plastic wrap, and getting his midsection wrapped up so he can get a shower without getting his bandage wet is an adventure that slows him down by ten minutes.
In the shower, gingerly soaping up, he thinks about how he should actually go about doing this, because showing up with flowers and asking her to dinner tonight just isn't his style. Deliberation, planning, knowing what he's going to do, how he's going to do it, and making sure he's explored all possible variations of how he might do this before settling on a plan is his style.
For the last nine years, he and Abby have been coasting along. They're in a safe, comfortable space. And since they work together, and since everyone around them also depends on their ability to work together, a warm friendship makes a lot of sense.
After all, a disastrous break up for two people who spend no professional time together isn't a huge deal. Yes, it's personally painful, but it's not like people will die.
He and Abby have a flaming break-up, and people might die. Anything that slows down their efficiency at catching the bad guys can result in more dead people. And, on a personal level, he might die. If he screws this up and hurts her, Gibbs will kill him, and not in the traditional pissed-off-dad sort of way, but in the literally-dead-and-never-seen-again sort of way.
For Tim McGee, rule number twelve isn't just a matter of keeping his work life functional; it's also about not pissing off the scariest man he knows.
So, this is going to take planning.
Fortunately, Tim is good at planning.
Tim is also cautious, much to the eternal chagrin of both his father and grandfather.  Both of whom, by his age, ran their own ships. Both of whom eventually made Admiral. And both of whom were deeply confused by a small boy who enjoyed make believe games and then video games, and didn't appear to have any killer instinct or interest in the Navy, at all.
So, rinsing off, he's not planning on admitting his undying love to Abby tonight, or tomorrow night, or for that matter, any time this week and possibly month.
He is thinking a good first step is making sure he's ready to be in a real relationship.  Because if this is going to crash and burn, and he's aware it might, it isn't going to happen because he's pulled some sort of Tony-esque fear-of-commitment, run-away-from-an-adult-relationship-like-a-little-boy routine.
That in mind, he goes back to work, brushes off his co-worker's concern for him, making light of the injury that's still throbs whenever he moves, and immerses himself in Mission: Get Harper Deering.

Shards To A Whole: An NCIS Fanfiction

McGee centric romantic fic. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.

5.



The pain meds wear off slowly. He's lying in bed, and she's still next to him, holding his hand. 
He knows Abby's not sleeping.
And he knows there's nothing sexual or romantic about this.  He's hurt. She's scared. They're best friends. So, it's dark, and it's night, and they're both in the same bed, not sleeping.
Just being near each other is enough.
For now.
He's told Abby he loves her before.  In fact, he's told her three or four times a year for probably the last five years.
Sometimes it happens when she's broken the case and he's feeling grateful. Usually, it happens when he just wants to let her know how she's his best friend and how happy he is to have her in his life.
The first time, after Cassidy was killed, was a little awkward, but after that, it's just flowed. Between his dad and Gibbs, McGee has spent more than enough of his life around strong silent types who don't express emotion. He's got no desire to be that guy himself.
Though he suspects that even Gibbs manages to regularly tell Abby he loves her. Because she's lovely and because she's just makes people want to be happy, and spread the happy around.  Even Gibbs has to melt in the face of how warm Abby is.
He squeezes her hand gently, and feels her squeeze his in return. Eventually, he drifts off to sleep, Abby holding his hand, by his side.

38 Weeks: The Twenty-Fifth Week

A/N: Burn Notice romantic fluff with a side of angst. Want to start at the beginning? Click here.



Week twenty-five:
Sunday afternoon, they pulled up to Maddie's house for dinner and noticed something unusual. Jesse's Porche, Sam's Caddy, Madeline's Camry, and one more car.A rental car."Fi, isn't that the rental car your mom was driving?""Yeah.""She was supposed to go home with Sean after the wedding.""I know. I booked the round trip tickets.""Sooo..." Michael has the tense, worried look on his face that pops up when a job starts to go wrong.Fi doesn't have anything to offer him; she's just as much in the dark as he is. "I guess we'll find out in a few minutes."They enter and see Katherine in the kitchen, mixing something up. Buttery, cabbagy scents, warm, heavy, and for Fi, comforting, creep through the house. Fi kisses her mother's cheek. "Hello, Ma. Shepard's pie?""Indeed, luv." She nods toward the counter. "And soda bread. You're looking peeky, and need to put some more weight on. If anything will do that, this will."And it's true, a diet of her mum's cooking will keep anyone who doesn't exercise intensely every day fairly plump. Low carb and low fat are two terms Katherine Glenanne has never run into and would find deeply insulting. Between growing up dirt poor during the war and post-war years, and her family's history with the famine, food in her home is always rich, satisfying, and abundant. Sam comes in, inhales deeply, and walks over to Katherine, pecking her on the cheek. "Katie, darlin'." Fi's eyes go wide at the idea that Sam's managed to charm her mom. "That smells delicious.""Thank you, Sam." He reaches out a finger to taste the bowl of whipped potatoes. Katherine gently whacks his hand with the back of the spoon. "You'll be tastin' it soon enough.""Yes, Ma'am! I'll go say hi to Jesse and Maddie."Michael gets a glass of iced tea, holding out the pitcher to both of the ladies. Fi nods, and he pours for her. Katherine looks at the glass of lemonade, mostly full, next to the stove, and he gets the message that she doesn't need a refill."So, Ma, not to be rude, but what are you still doing here?""Cookin'."Fi rolls her eyes, suddenly feeling fifteen again. Her mother would never give an enlightening answer when a not terribly informative but blatantly obvious one would do. "I can see that. I thought you were going back to Ireland.""I thought I was, too. But you're right, I like the sunshine. And I like the company. Maddie offered to let me stay here as long as I liked, and at least for now, that sounds splendid."The part Katherine left out was the rather long conversation the day after the wedding between her, Madeline, Sam, and Elsa about how to convince Mike and Fi that running away was a bad idea. She'd been happily recruited into the plan to keep Mike and Fi in Miami, and if that meant moving there for the time being, or longer possibly, then she was game.Babies are hard enough with your family to support you. On your own, it's nerve-wracking, so anything she could do to help tie them to Miami, she was willing to do. And though she hadn't mentioned it to any of the others, she missed babies. Toddlers and young children she could take or leave, but babies she adored, and right now, the rest of her grandchildren range in age from four to thirty-three."So, you're staying, just like that?""I'm stayin'. Your brothers and their wives will muddle along without me for the time bein'. Sam agreed to help me get my visa straightened away. That man must be part Irish; he's got friends smilin' at him on every corner of the earth.""To say the least.""Now, off with you two. I've got to get this set, and you know I hate cookin' with people underfoot."
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Much later that night, after dinner was finished, Sam pulled out a manila folder. He'd been put in charge of setting up Michael and Fi's new identities for wherever they were going next.  "Are you really sure you want to do this? If you stay here, we've all got your back, and you've got the home court advantage.""If we stay here, everyone knows where we are," Michael answered."True. I still think this is a bad idea." Maddie and Katherine had decided that letting Sam do the majority of the talking about why them running was a bad idea was a good plan. If they spent too much time talking about it, it was just two moms getting upset. If Sam talked about it, it had the weight of "good tactics" behind it."I know, Sam. We're not loving it, either.""Fine." Sam handed them their new IDs. Jesse looked over Fi's shoulder and snorted a laugh. "Brad and Angelina Smith? Really, Sam?""Hey, I had to have some fun with this. I'm rewriting my best-friends lives and history."Michael looked at him with a question on his face. "Dude, you have never seen a movie, have you?" Jesse shakes his head. "You're Mr. and Mrs. Smith."Michael still doesn't get it, but it looks like Fi is remembering something."Sam? What have you done?""Just christened you with a name befitting of your talents and exploits.""You know, you look a little like her," Jesse says. "Not like anyone would mistake you for sisters, but you've got a similar bone structure, and hair."
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After Mike and Fi left, Maddie and Katherine stared down Sam. "You call that sellin' them on stayin'?""No, I call that planting the idea.  Look, ladies, a spooked Mike is a delicate thing to handle. You've got to hit him with the idea just right, and make sure it sits in the back of his head until he thinks he came up with the idea in the first place. Don't worry, over the next week or two, I'll keep subtly mentioning about how useful it is to have a lot of people watching your back, and sooner or later he'll have an epiphany moment, and all will be well.""You're sure, Sam?""Maddie, don't worry. I've got a few things in the works. Tomorrow or the next day one of the ladies at the Carlito is going to tell him that someone's been looking for him. In another few days someone else is going to give him a gentle warning about someone tailing him. It won't be for anything bad. I've got a buddy who needs a hand, and this'll just help set the scene that there are people out there who will help Mike if he stays here.  Trust me, this time next week, week after at the latest, and he'll be sold on the idea that they've got to stay."