Disclaimer—I don't own anything, just my imagination and I am in no way making money from this. I am only having fun with them.

A/N-- I have always had trouble identifying with Tim McGee. So I figured what better way to get in touch with him than write a story central to him.

Arms of Angels

Timothy McGee had spent nearly seven years with NCIS and thought that he was prepared for most everything the world could throw at him. He had seen his partners blown up, bombed and shot. He had seen them love and lose loves. He had loved and lost love. But to lose one more partner was just too much for Tim McGee. Over the summer of 2009 he had not written a single word on any of his books, and even now with Ziva rescued and part of the team again his type writer was still collecting dust. It wasn't that his muse was hiding; he felt that his muse had totally died the day that he had learned that Ziva had stayed and broken up the team again.

Growing up moving from Navy base to Navy base he had never felt the stability of having a home for more than eighteen months on average. Yes, he had gotten to see and experience a lot of the world, but he would have rather had been able to have a few friends for more than a few months. To have the stability of the team broken up once again had sent his creative spirit into a complete tail spin.

Now on this cold overcast day Tim felt that maybe if he had a complete change of scenery he could shake his writers bug back into existence. He took advantage of the long Veterans Day weekend the team had been given and drove to a small, secluded hotel in rural southern Maryland.

After checking in he quickly set up his room to fit his writing needs. The room had a very nice, very old desk positioned to look out over a rolling meadow which was surrounded by unusually tall trees. A small herd of horses grazed lazily out in a pasture close to a large barn. Tim opened the window and let the cool breeze softly stir the air in his room. He positioned his type writer on the desk and then secured a large stack of paper with a paper weight so that the lazy breeze would not scatter them.

He did not realize he had been staring out the window quite so long until his stomach painfully growled waking him up out of his daze. A few streaks of sunshine were setting in one corner of the valley bathing it in a golden red glow. He looked at his watch that he had set on the far side of the desk and was startled to realize he had sat there for almost seven hours.

Where was his Muse? He worried that he had completely lost his ability to write over the summer. He had never been this long without writing a single word. A sudden hopelessness began to settle over him as he left his room and walked down the hallway to the vending machine.

After deciding that two dollars was too much to pay for a small candy bar he decided to head to a nearby café. Just before he reached the door to the café a steady rain began to fall.

"Hope you brought your umbrella Sonny," the waitress said walking up to the table he had sat down at, "Weather reports says this isn't going away for the rest of the weekend."

"Great she'll never find me in this." Tim muttered to himself.

"If she is looking for a cute thing like you the weather won't stop her," Tim blushed heavily at the waitress words, "Now what are you hungry for tonight that I can help you with?"

"I'll just have a burger and fries and chocolate malt." Tim answered as he handed the menu back to the waitress without looking back up at her.

As the rain increased on the windows of the café Tim wondered why he had wasted his time coming up here now. All the ambiance of the area would be lost in the rain. He wondered if he should just pack up now and try to make it back home before it got too much later in the night. Maybe one of the team wouldn't be too busy. The thought of interrupting Gibbs plans instantly went out of ideas as soon as he thought it. Tony had mentioned that he was going to visit some old friend from one of his previous police jobs; he couldn't remember which one, one of the P's he thought. Abby had a bowling tournament with the Nuns that she had tried to get him to attend with her. Now he wished he had instead of going off on this hair brained scheme to try and find his want to write again.

His growing despair was temporarily broken when the waitress brought out his food.

"Thanks." He offered quietly and begun to eat as the sheets of rain drenched everything outside. Finishing his food without saying another word Tim was seriously beginning to consider going back home. Ducky was nursing a slight bought of what was hoped not to the awful H1N1 strain. Palmer was standing in for Ducky incase another team caught a case. Even Ziva had made plans to attend an all weekend seminar to help her with her citizenship application.

"Don't worry if she is worth it she will make it up here this weekend." The waitress said as she laid down the check.

"I am beginning to seriously doubt that," Tim said as he paid the bill and left a tip, "I was just wondering if there was anywhere to get drink nearby."

"Well a nice boy like you wouldn't be interested in Moe's. That place can get kinda rowdy. But there is a store just down the way if you would like to get something to take back to your room with you." The waitress said as she wiped down the table he had been at, "Just don't give up on her, she might show up after all."

"Thank you." Tim paused at the door dreading to go into the rain. He ran toward the store that the waitress had mentioned . After purchasing a six pack of the imported beer that Tony had introduced him to and a bottle of bourbon like the one he had seen in Gibbs basement, he quickly got back to the hotel before another heavy rain shower could start.

Okay, little green button will let me know whether or not to continue this.