This is my first time writing a fanfiction, so please don't rip if there are a few (or alot) of mistakes in terms of editing. I'm still getting the hang of getting my documents all peachy from word to fanfic, so let me know.

Please Review (not just fishing, want to know if i'm doing this right)

I hope you enjoy!

P.S. I DO NOT OWN NCIS, OR ITS CHARACTERS. (quite sad, really)

A Pyrrhic Victory (/ˈpɪrɪk/) is a victory with such a devastating cost to the victor that it carries the implication that another such victory will ultimately cause defeat.

The Pyrrhic Clause

The young man stared at the page that sat uncomfortably in the typewriter. Blank. Rain pattered loudly upon the roof, the way the keys should sound. Nothing. He looked up at the clock on the wall, then turned to his phone, having long forgotten how to read analog. His phone read 9:45 pm, Saturday night. He sighed softly to himself, feeling a familiar twang of shame spread quickly through his chest.

He knew the feeling well. He felt it almost weekly, as he would attempt to write, or read a book, or idly watch television, having not received a call regarding weekend festivities with friends. He thought that once he got out of MIT, having landed the job at NCIS, that the time of lonely weekends would be over. Guess I was wrong. Again. He thought to himself. He stood, pushing his desk chair back slowly; Jethro, who had been lying quietly behind him stood in similar fashion as his master. The dog looked up at his owner, trying to understand the discouragement in his master's eyes, as only a dog could.

"I don't get it Jethro. I mean, I do. I'm… Probie. McGeek. I guess I don't have too much value in the 'hang out' department. I'm just Probalicious". Tim chuckled softly, thinking of Tony whenever he'd call him that. He had thought, after the years of having each others backs… Tim stopped, not continuing the thought.

He walked slowly into the bathroom and stepped in front of the mirror, taking off the MIT shirt he wore. He stared intently at himself. He was impressed. He had come along way from the earlier years at NCIS. Aesthetically speaking. He had a slim build, but muscle shone through his pale skin. He needed the ego boost at the moment. He sighed again, then silently cursed himself for sighing so much. He promptly put his shirt back on, and headed to his record player, restarting 'Kind of Blue' by Miles Davis. Just as the sad and wandering notes began, his cell phone rang.


"Proooooooobie! Where are you!" Tony yelled into the phone.

Tim could hear loud conversation and music pumping in the background. He must be at one of the clubs he frequented, on the hunt for the next victim of the 'DiNozzo charm'.

"Uh, hi Tony. I'm at home"

"Well, get your McAss out of there. We're having, drunking, dri-drinking drinks"

McGee held the phone away from his ear, grimacing at his partner's volume, but inwardly smiling. In the background, he could hear Tony beginning to argue with a familiar voice

"N-No Z. I, I want- stop it! Thatsss mine. Ow! Ok! Ok!"

Tim smiled as he heard the phone being wrestled over, then the familiar voice spoke to him.

"Mah-Gee? It is Ziva. Are you coming? I can, cannot handle Tony on my own."

"Yeah Ziva, I'll be on my way, where are you guys?"

"We're, we're… Tony, where are we?"


"The Tipsy Crow, McGee… No Tony, she looks too youn-"

The call ended. McGee quickly put the phone back on his desk, turned off the record player, and ran to his bedroom to put on something more appropriate. He felt like he was at Bethesda again, when he had finally been invited to an event that wasn't a study session (not like that happened too often anyway). But it felt good. He quickly pulled on some jeans, buttoned up a nice shirt, gave Jethro a pat, and headed out the door to catch a taxi.


From the moment he stepped into the bar, he heard Tony over the music and the loud chatter that swirled about. He wound his way towards the voice, but Tony found him first, with a frowning, yet relieved Ziva in tow (attempting to keep track of the very drunk man).

"Hey Ton-" Tim began, but Tony cut him off by grabbing the side of his face, and pointing a finger right between his eyes.

"You, Goo. We, I…" Tony's eyes wandered after a woman in a very short and tight cocktail dress.

"Yes Tony?"

"Lesss, less, you, me and ninja woman. Lesss get in a fight". Tony slurred.

Tim frowned, "Tony, no. We're federal agents, we'd get arrested. Our careers Tony."

"I, I, I know McMuffin…" Tony paused and chuckled at that. "Ok, fine. I'm gonna teash, you", his finger wagged in front of McGee's face, "to land a laaaaady! Cuz, we're federal agents!" he yelled.

McGee was about to respond when two of the many beautiful women there walked up to them.

"You're a federal agent?" one asked, directing the question at Tony. The senior agent grinned.

"Why yes, yes I am." He answered, doing his best to sound less drunk than he was as he put his arms around the girls and led them deeper into the bar, winking at McGee and Ziva as they left.

"DiNozzo being DiNozzo." Ziva said, shaking her head, smirking.

"Yeah, well that's Tony, he's always-" McGee stopped, when he realized what Ziva was wearing. While dressed more modestly than the other women in the bar, McGee was stunned. She wore an emerald green cocktail dress, that closely held her features. Her curves...

"McGee! What, are you looking at?" she questioned accusingly, a slim smile slightly curling at the edge of her mouth.

"I… um, just that I've never, um, never seen you…" Tim stuttered. Quickly abandoning explaining the rest of that thought, he quickly pointed to the bar.


Ziva laughed, "Yes. Let's, Probie". She mouthed the word, emphasizing it. She turned and headed to the bar, McGee following closely, scanning the room uncomfortably as he was jostled by the packed guests.

"So, I am surprised that you came out." Ziva said.

Oddly, the words cut into McGee, he looked down at the glass of wine he ordered, his finger chasing itself around the edge.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't doing much." He admitted sheepishly, then stared at Ziva for a moment, a bit longer than the customary glance. Quickly realizing this, he continued, hoping she hadn't noticed.

"I was, uh, just writing. Working on… my next novel". The last three words he spoke quietly, causing Ziva to lean in. Every time he mentioned his novels to his coworkers, he thought of the men who died because of it. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, knowing how if it weren't for Thom E. Gemcity, those men would still be alive. Dismay was wrought upon his face.

"McGee?" Ziva asked, her brow creased with concern.

"Yeah, um, just writing" he dismissed, as he smiled, hoping she'd change the subject.

But before she could, Tony did.

"McGooglie eyes! You like Ziva's dressss? I spiiiied you spyin!"

McGee looked into his lap, embarrassed as Ziva gave him a mock look of shock, "Oh really? McGee?"

"Well, it's, um, just that I've never seen you dressed like that. I was just, surprised."

"Oh c-come now Probie, you think s-shess hot! Ssspeaking of hot". Tony turned, seeing two new female additions to the end of the bar. "Duty calllls".

Again, Tony left them, swaying slightly, but not in time with the music. McGee chuckled, happy his partner left. He jumped when he felt Ziva's hand on his arm.

"So, McGee. Tell me about Lisa."

"Lisa?" he questioned. No,any one of my characters but Lisa!

"Yes, from your book. Describe her to me. And why must she be with Tommy?" She pouted, motioning towards Tony, who was waving a glass of beer around above his head, apparently in an elaborate story, of which the two women at the end of the bar seemed only slightly interested in.

McGee sighed, pushed back his second empty glass of wine, and ordered three fingers of bourbon, neat.

"Oh, I see McGreggor wants to be like Tibbs, no?" She teased.

Tim looked at it, knowing he didn't like bourbon, or maybe he didn't drink it properly. He knew it was sipping alcohol, but he swallowed the entirety of the contents in a quick swig.

"McGee!" Ziva stared, surprised.

"Lisa" Tim began, "is as I described in the book." he said concisely, though feeling a strong desire to launch into a monologue regarding THAT particular character.

Ziva finished, "Cold, hard, yet longing, and… as you said, beautiful, no?". She winked at him and laughed, enjoying teasing McGee, while inwardly hoping she wasn't making him uneasy. It was odd. Why is it so hard to talk with McGee right now? It's so easy at work, she thought to herself.

Tim felt the alcohol beginning to really take affect as Ziva ordered another drink.

He was quite uncomfortable with the conversation. He felt that it was forced, something he hadn't experienced ever with Ziva. Maybe he shouldn't have come out. Maybe that's why they never invited him places. Why was he here? Maybe he was meant to be alone on weekends. Tim sighed, as Ziva made quick work of her new drink, watching him closely, secretly wondering, as she often did (and who couldn't), what was going on behind the eyes that matched her emerald dress. Realizing his discomfort, she began talking about work, knowing that a familiar topic would ease the man.

Tim got lost in discussing past cases, work environment, Gibbs.

The mundanity of the conversation ceased, when Ziva asked a question, of which McGee had often wondered about privately.

"So, if you could willingly break one of Gibbs' rules, which one would it be?" She looked coyly as she chewed the end of her straw. Simply her demeanor at the moment, solidified what Tim was thinking. He exhaled, knowing his answer, but refraining from blurting out a number. Before he could answer, he woke up.

A/N: Seriously, Listen to Kind Of Blue by Miles Davis (album)