He couldn't handle it anymore. He couldn't handle the loneliness, the feeling of rejection, or the feeling that nobody cared. He had been a part of the team for over nine years, shouldn't he feel like he belonged by now?
Tim had just been attacked at a crime scene, where two men jumped out from behind a hollowed out fridge that simply played the part of a hiding place, getting a gash across his right arm. He had been forced to fire, shooting the one with a knife in the foot, before tackling the other. When his team had come rushing into the room, guns drawn, it was to the sight of one man on the floor holding his foot and the other being handcuffed by McGee. He had just opened his mouth to tell them what had happened when Gibbs started to yell. "What the hell were you thinking McGee? You called clear! Do you know what the means, McGee? It means the room is clear, not that there are two men, one of which is armed with a gun, in the room!"
McGee felt the words like a blow to the gut as he tried to explain again, but was interrupted by Tony this time. "Ya Probie, you could have gotten one of us killed! Now what do you have to say for yourself?" McGee tried one last time to talk, but Tony never intended to let him get a word out as he pointed a finger at the door and said, "Just get out of here McGee. Go secure the crime scene, if you can do that right." Tony was his superior, and Gibbs made no move to say otherwise, so McGee gave up on talking and walked back out to the front of the house.
Ducky and Jimmy were waiting to be let in, since they had arrived at the house to take away a corpse when McGee noticed the lock had been picked. They had been told to wait for the all clear while the agents went in. As McGee approached the two Jimmy was going to ask what had happened but was distracted by the two men that where being marched out the front door by Gibbs and Tony. Palmer was sent inside to start with the body while Ducky was given the task of tending to the man's foot that had been shot. No one even acknowledged the wound on Tim's arm that was bleeding profusely.
When the two men where shoved into the back of one of the police car's that had shown up, and everyone else was inside, Tim got the first aid kit from the truck and dealt with his own wound as best he could. He had just put his coat back on when he heard Gibbs yell angrily, "McGee, get your ass in here now and do your job!" Even though he had been told to stay outside by Tony he figured it was best to disobey an old order, rather than a new one, so he grabbed the camera and headed inside.
McGee made sure to capture every inch of the crime scene, including the hollowed out fridge, and by the end of it was wincing every time he snapped a picture. He figured he could go to the hospital and get it checked out on his lunch break so he wouldn't get into any more trouble. When he had finished with the pictures he was on his way out the door when Gibbs called him back and told him to help Ducky and Palmer with the body, taking the camera out of his hands. McGee sighed inwardly but did as he was told; what he was paid for. Even though it put him through excruciating pain, he still helped carry the body to the autopsy truck.
As they were separating to go to the two vehicles Tim tried to tell his team again that he had been hurt, and was hoping to stop by the hospital, but when he opened his mouth to talk Gibbs simply pointed at the car, so McGee obediently got in, and didn't say a word.
He didn't understand why his team seemed to hate him so much; why they would treat him like this after so many years, but after a while he wrote it off as some fault of his own. He figured he must have done something to deserve this treatment; to deserve his team's hatred, to deserve Gibbs'.
The drive back to the Navy Yard was silent and things were tense. Everyone could feel it, but no one said anything, preferring to ignore it and hope it went away. Tim simply gazed out the window, trying to ignore the pain he was in. He was looking forward to getting back so he could go get his arm checked out and have some peace to think away from his team. He knew at best it would take his whole lunch hour but he didn't really care, not feeling in the mood to eat anyway. He was never in the mood to eat anymore, as had become obvious over the last few years when he dropped quite a bit of weight.
When they got back Gibbs started giving out orders, and Tim lost any hope of getting his lunch break as Gibbs told them he wanted an update in two hours. Being the good agent he was he set to work the second he sat at his desk, and even though his typing was hampered quite a bit, he still had everything he needed when Gibbs strode into the room a few hours later demanding answers.
Tim, who had found a minute to change his shirt, found himself playing with his sleeve as he updated his boss, and was startled when Tony blurted in annoyance, "Stop playing with your arm McFidget, you're distracting me." He wanted to defend himself but came up short when his boss glared at him, clearly saying to move on, so McGee handed the remote to DiNozzo and took a step back.
His team seemed to have very little patience for him that day so he simply tried to become invisible so he wouldn't bother them again. As he watched them discussing the case he felt a feeling wash over him that had become more and more frequent and long lasting. He felt a heart wrenching loneliness that made his heart hurt. He felt like everyone he knew hated him, even strangers on the street, and worse a small part of his brain kept insisting he deserved it.
Tim's mind had wandered into the depths of pain and darkness that he tried so hard to keep at bay, but found it harder and harder to do. He was only pulled out of it when Tony delivered a head slap saying, "Probie, stop day dreaming and help us figure out who killed our Lance Corporal." Unbeknownst to Tony, the head slap caused McGee to raise his hand to rub the back of his head, only the second Tim moved it a sharp pain ran from his arm to his spine, taking the breath out of him.
Tim tried to breathe, tried to hide his pain from Tony and Gibbs, but found that instead of his breathing getting better, it was getting worse. He felt the panic attack coming before it hit and managed a groan of annoyance, this was the worst possible time for a panic attack, but it was just something he couldn't will away.
He vaguely felt his knees hitting the floor as his vision spotted then went dark. His last thought before passing out was that the boss was going to be pissed at him.