• 10 •
[Private]
It's just a coincidence, right? There's no way he got into my things. I don't even know where the trash here goes.
Damn it. Maybe I should just... stop writing. If I stopped writing, these things--
[sigh] I need to stop thinking about this. If this pattern thing is true, Abby and I are in danger. And so is anyone else on our floor. We're not there right now, but will it make a difference when the time comes?
I know I won't hesitate if I have to shoot him, but even without hesitation...
... I want to go home. I miss my 9-5 work schedule. I miss D.C.. I miss Gibbs prowling around and getting things done and making us feel protected and vulnerable at the same time. I miss Tony smacking me upside the head for telling on him and stealing my stuff and coming up with a movie for every situation. I miss Ducky's neverending anecdotes and Palmer's bad timing. I miss my sister and her organic pizza. I miss solving cases and helping people and being at least somewhat useful.
I'm not like Ziva, or any of the people I've met. I'm not used to this, I can't get used to this. I'm not adaptable, I can't kill someone and feel nothing, I can't get out of a life or death situation and go to work the next day the same even though I have to.
Man. Suck it up, McGee.
-----
[Caritas filter]
[McGee is sitting in the corner of the bar with an untouched cosmopolitan next to him. He seems to be cleaning his gun and looking generally discontent, but hey, he's stuck in a magic alcohol-serving box with fifty other people all waiting to die, too.]
[ooc: Heading out for a bit. Will be back this afternoon PST.]
It's just a coincidence, right? There's no way he got into my things. I don't even know where the trash here goes.
Damn it. Maybe I should just... stop writing. If I stopped writing, these things--
[sigh] I need to stop thinking about this. If this pattern thing is true, Abby and I are in danger. And so is anyone else on our floor. We're not there right now, but will it make a difference when the time comes?
I know I won't hesitate if I have to shoot him, but even without hesitation...
... I want to go home. I miss my 9-5 work schedule. I miss D.C.. I miss Gibbs prowling around and getting things done and making us feel protected and vulnerable at the same time. I miss Tony smacking me upside the head for telling on him and stealing my stuff and coming up with a movie for every situation. I miss Ducky's neverending anecdotes and Palmer's bad timing. I miss my sister and her organic pizza. I miss solving cases and helping people and being at least somewhat useful.
I'm not like Ziva, or any of the people I've met. I'm not used to this, I can't get used to this. I'm not adaptable, I can't kill someone and feel nothing, I can't get out of a life or death situation and go to work the next day the same even though I have to.
Man. Suck it up, McGee.
-----
[Caritas filter]
[McGee is sitting in the corner of the bar with an untouched cosmopolitan next to him. He seems to be cleaning his gun and looking generally discontent, but hey, he's stuck in a magic alcohol-serving box with fifty other people all waiting to die, too.]
[ooc: Heading out for a bit. Will be back this afternoon PST.]