Ashleigh Anpilova


McGee gives Gibbs his opinion of Ducky's book.

A Gibbs and McGee-centric gen story.

Written: January. Word count: 500.



Gibbs opened the front-door and came face-to-face with McGee who was pacing up and down.


Before he could speak, McGee had pushed past him and gone into his living room. "This," he said, his eye gleaming, despite the dark circles beneath them, "this is brilliant, Jethro. Brilliant. It's the best thing I've read in years, maybe ever. If I'd read this before I started writing, I wouldn't have started writing. This is going to be a bestseller." He was striding around the room, waving his hands and looking more animated than Gibbs could ever recall seeing him."


"Good morning to you too, Tim," he said, hiding a smile. "So you reckon it's good, do you?"


McGee stopped dead and turned to look at him. "Good!" he exclaimed. "Good. No, Jethro, this is not 'good' this is . . . this is . . . this is . . . Amazing and that isn't good enough."


"Coffee?" Gibbs was pleased; he knew McGee wouldn't simply tell him what he wanted to hear, he'd be honest with him. However, he also needed to ground McGee slightly.


"Huh? Did you hear what I said, Jethro? This is sensational. We have to get it to my agent and she'll find a publisher for it. You'll have choice of them, I'm sure."


"Uh huh. When?"




Gibbs hid his smile as he walked towards McGee, took his arm, led him to the couch and forced him to sit down. "Tim," he said quietly. "It's only just gone six. I don't think your agent or any agent is going to be at work, do you?"


McGee blinked at him, looked at his watch and frowned. "I hadn't realized it was so early. Sorry, boss. But I just had to -"


"Come and tell me your opinion. And I'm grateful, Tim. But the book isn't going anywhere. Now sit there and I'll get you some coffee." Suddenly he noticed McGee was still in the same clothes he'd been wearing the previous evening. "You been up all night?"


McGee nodded. "Yes. Once I started, I couldn't put it down. Do you think the stories are all true?"


Gibbs paused on his way to the kitchen. "Yeah, Tim," he said quietly. "I know they are."


"Even the one about the natives of New Guinea?" Tim's voice had dropped and he leaned forward.


"Yeah, Tim, even that. In fact, you sure that won't be too much? I mean -"


McGee shook his head. "Oh, no. If all the stories were like that then it'd be different. I'm not sure it would be publishable. But Ducky's clever; he provided a good mix. Not all funny, not all light, not all gruesome. He really was a story-teller. He knew what he was doing. You must be very proud of him, Jethro."


Gibbs swallowed hard and nodded. "Yeah, Tim. I am. Proud of you too."




"Yeah. Knew you'd be honest about the book. Now coffee; then we'll get you home for a shower and change and then you said something about your agent."




A Myth


Opinion Sought

In Tim's Opinion

All Sewn Up