Author's Note: Wow, it's been quite a while since I've written so excuse the rustiness. After years of wishing and waiting for a good McGee story line, I have to say I really enjoyed the premier and can't wait to see what all happens next. Hope you guys enjoy :)

Warnings: Spoilers for 15x01

It was the little things. The little reminders that her husband, her amazingly strong and intelligent husband who always managed to keep a level head, was held hostage and tortured for months. No, he didn't have mental breakdowns every other day, at least not to her knowledge, and she didn't find him curled up in a corner crying (all of which would have been understandable). But it was moments in which his resolve faltered that made it impossible for either of them to forget. Not that she could ever forget those two months, and neither would he, but sometimes it was almost as though nothing had happened. Then the reminder would make itself known.

He always regained himself quickly and moved on and she always pretended not to notice, but they were there. The first thing she noticed was the way he looked at everything. The way he looked at her when she first turned to see him and almost every other time since then, the way he looked at the food she had prepared and later the way he gazed at the television as though it were some foreign object. Then there was the strained hesitation. It was the way he would stop himself before grabbing an extra roll at dinner or the way he hesitated at the door to the shower that made her realize he was probably having to remind himself he wouldn't be punished for performing such simple tasks. But she didn't ask him about it to ever verify her suspicions. She knew they would have to address some things soon but she didn't know how just yet.

It was just small actions or the occasional comments that started building up and weighing on her heart. Tim really was one of those rare, truly good men that were so hard to find these days. She just couldn't bear the thought of Paraguay permanently darkening the light that usually radiated from him daily. But if he could be strong for her, then the least she could do was return the favor despite all of the pregnancy hormones coursing through her body.

So Delilah had pushed on and only allowed her emotions to shine when he couldn't see for the first week. On the seventh night since he returned, however, she found herself in a deep sleep when a small bout of nausea had hit her. She started to wake up and was immediately greeted by the outline of Tim sitting up on the side of the bed, his back to her. He had been careful to not take his shirt off during the daytime since his return, and she could guess why, but in the moonlight she could see that his skin was, in fact, still covered with bruises and cuts. The sight of it turned her stomach even more, but she held it together a little longer. She remembered him mentioning the first night that the bed was "so comfy" compared to a concrete floor and she knew he was still getting used to that. She had also noticed some squirming in his sleep due to what she could only guess were nightmares, all of which was expected. Tonight, however, was the first time Delilah had seen him fully awake and sitting up. With his shoulders stiff with tension, she knew he was having a particularly rough night.

Without further thought, she reached out and gently placed her hand on his shoulder. Gently though it was, it still sent him jumping away from the bed and turning to face her with his bruised chest heaving. They stayed that way for a moment, staring at each other in bewilderment until she could see his features soften as he remembered where he was.

"I'm so sorry," he stammered as he slowly walked towards her. "I was out of it. I'm sorry I scared you."

She shook her head quickly and silently berated herself for not considering the fact that speaking before touching him would have been more appropriate. Just another one of those little things.

"No, I'm sorry," she replied quickly, though the entire ordeal had sent her nausea level through the roof. "I think I'm about to throw up."

She closed her eyes and tried to take deep breaths. He hadn't really experienced her during her full-blown pregnancy symptoms yet and she didn't want to start now. She was aware of movement nearby but just as she was deciding she was going to lose the battle with her twisting stomach, she felt his arms wrap around her before being lifted into the air. Delilah didn't have time to feel guilty for making him use his worn out body before being swiftly, though gingerly, placed in front of the toilet. As she began the involuntary task of systematically emptying her stomach, she found herself feeling comforted by finally not being alone during this. She could feel him next to her and knew he was holding her hair back. There had been several days of having to clean up her own mess while he was gone because she wasn't able to get to the bathroom in time. She had begun to keep a grocery bag with her but it didn't usually hit her at night like this. Regardless, with Tim home, he had somehow managed to turn this awful moment into a not-so-bad one because it was finally a part of this journey that they could experience together. Maybe even laugh about one day.

As the stomach spasms began to subside and she regained her composure, she looked up to see him standing at the sink. At some point during all of this, he had put on his shirt, which she was currently thankful for. If Delilah was being honest, she probably wasn't ready to hear about or see proof of the horror he experienced in Paraguay. At least not right now.

He quickly turned to her and had one damp rag to wipe her mouth and a second one he used to gently press on her forehead. The cool cloth felt so refreshing and his closeness felt reassuring. She brought her hand to his, needing to feel him; to know he was there. And while it was one of the best feelings in the world, there was also the little reminder of his ordeal as her fingers brushed over the swollen flesh on his wrist. She gasped very slightly and quickly removed her hand from his, worried that she had hurt him.

He removed the rag from her head and Delilah could feel his gaze on her. She looked up into his beautiful green eyes and while his features was still sunken and uncharacteristically unkept hair covered his head and face, she still saw her loving husband staring back at her with his remarkable ability to say so much without ever uttering a word.

He kissed her forehead after a moment and held her close to him. It was then, as they embraced each other on the bathroom floor after she had gotten sick at 3 o'clock in the morning, that she realized something. While it was the little things that reminded her of what he went through and broke her heart, it was the little things that also reassured her that yes, he may have went through hell but her husband, her Timothy McGee, had come back to her. More than that, he was still every bit the loving and amazing man she had fallen so desperately in love with.

Their journeys were far from over; his recovery and her ever changing body as it became the temporary home to their developing child. But with everything that was in her, she was so deeply thankful that they could now experience every little thing, good or bad, side by side.

End Note: There you go. Short and sweet. Hope everyone enjoyed it and thanks for reading :)