What Really Happens: NCIS

Chapter 81

I'm in Tim's kitchen cooking spaghetti and meatballs. Tim and I bought a cookbook the other day because we realized we couldn't keep ordering in. Cooking helps me eat more because of all the moving and the focus. For instance, until tonight, I didn't realize how much work went into making a meatball, a good meatball at least. We decided on something a little easier tonight because it's my last night here.

Tim told me that because nothing came up from the gang for the past two weeks, I don't have to have a body guard anymore. It's nice to know that I will be able to finally work at work again, but sad because I think we should live in different places again. I want to live with Tim when we get there in our relationship. Besides, if it ever gets out that he didn't have to be by my side because of work reasons, and someone see's me here, we would be in huge trouble.

"I don't know how I feel about it. I think it's because he wants to see if they will do anything if they notice you're back in town." Tim says as he plays his video games.

It's what we have been doing since my third night here. He attempted to cook the first night, and I thought he would be perfect because of the measurements and math. Boy was I wrong. Flour was everywhere, there was too much sauce being poured into one bowl. I told him it can't be bad because it would be on me so he should go and play video games. Him running to his chair with his head phones already on said it all.

"I didn't think about it. I don't know. I just want to be able to work again and do something besides try to be distracted by everyone. It will save everyone time when everything goes back to normal."

Somehow, he heard every word I said with the gun shots and shouting of dying men. "I'm not convinced."

He doesn't have to be. At the end of the day, Gibbs is the boss and we're going to do what he says. I know I am.

I think about all the days I went without being in the lab or on the field. I can't believe I was able to make it this far. Tony was the only agent that I ever spent time with over these pass two weeks. I can't believe he thought of that story right on the spot. I can't believe how he went into the details of it all. It was amazing.

"Do you think we're different Tim?"

The meatballs are almost done, and the spaghetti is closer to being ready.

"What!" Really? He's going to make me say it again? I thought I was going to make it this entire experience without cursing those video games in my head.

"Do you think we're different!" I don't hear anything for a second. And the second after that, and after that. I turn around to see if I should repeat myself or disregard the question. But he's staring at me with quiet eyes and mouth. He heard me alright.

"Wh-what do you mean by different?"

I have to choose my words carefully. I just want to know if we're different. I don't want to make anything of it.

"I mean, do you think we have enough in common, to not kill each other?"

"I wouldn't kill you."

I'm frustrated with my own words. I don't know what I'm saying or how I want to say it. I strain the pasta letting the steam hit my face. I now realize this isn't a good idea because this shit hurts.

I feel his arms wrap around my waist. "I'm sorry I know what you mean. We might be a little different. Why?"

I want to have this conversation more than I don't. Why is it hard for me to get the words out? Why can't I just spit it out and be over with it right now?

"Do you think our differences could get in the way of us?"

"Come on." His hand is shaking while grabbing mine. I try to pull back to take the meatballs off the stove. "It's okay if they cool down." He removes them himself. "We can heat them up if we have to."