The Shadow and the Tree
Tim turned to walk toward the door and home, but the room started spinning, and suddenly he was sweating, he staggered slightly, tried to take a deep breath to clear his head; then everything went black.
"Whoa there McGee! I've got you."
Tony was the first to see that Tim was not going to make it to the door, he grabbed Tim's arm and steadied him. Gibbs helped him ease Tim gently to the floor.
"I knew this would be too much for him…I should have insisted that he go home, instead of listening to that venomous creature."
Ducky knelt beside Tim and reached out to check his pulse.
"Don't! Don't touch me!"
Tim pushed Ducky away and tried to sit up. His face was flushed and glistening with beads of perspiration, his eyes flicking from face to face…a sudden flash of recognition and he was immediately contrite.
"Sorry Ducky…forgot where I was for a minute…what am I doing on the floor?"
He tried to sit up again, but was restrained gently by Tony.
"Stay where you are…you keeled over…hey McGee, when did you last have something to eat?"
"I…I think I had a sandwich…can't remember…last night? I'm not hungry…just tired, I'll be okay when I get home, get some sleep…"
Ducky gestured to Gibbs and Tony to lift Tim.
"Jethro, would you be so good as to give us a life home? And I mean my home Timothy, I want to keep an eye on you…you still have a fever, and I want to be sure you get some proper nourishment."
"Honestly Ducky, there's no need, I'm only going to be sleeping…"
"Indeed you are, but not until you have had something to eat, we can call in at your apartment and collect what you need for a few days; no argument Timothy, doctor's orders!"
Tim was standing under the hot jets of water, washing away the stench of that disgusting place where he had been held, trying to wash away the memories, the fear...he wasn't proud to admit, it even to himself, but he had been so scared. If the other men in lock-up had discovered that he was a Federal Agent, he was pretty sure that the beating he would have received then would have been a lot worse than the blows he had taken from Fornell and Sacks.
He switched off the water and immediately started to shiver; he towelled himself dry, and put on his pyjamas. He smiled a little as he hung the wet towel on the rack to dry, the only reason he owned any pyjamas was because his mother lived in fear of him being on vacation and only having old T-shirts and boxers to wear for bed. Another bout of shivering started his teeth chattering and he figured it was time to get into bed, and sleep at last.
Ducky had refused Tim's help in making up the bed in the guest bedroom.
"Timothy, you are practically out on your feet, you get into the shower and I will get us some supper, after that it's sleep for you."
If he was honest Tim was quite pleased that his offer of help had been turned down, it seemed to have taken all of his strength to throw a few clothes and toiletries in a bag. Ducky had wanted Tim to have something to eat before he took him back to his apartment for some clothes, but Tim was determined to shower before he ate anything, to wash away...could he wash away what had happened?
"Ah there you are, I've warmed up some soup...not homemade I'm afraid, but it's tasty and it's hot."
"Honestly Ducky, I really don't feel hungry."
Ducky set down the tray on a small table.
"I'm sure you don't Timothy, and that is all the more reason why you must eat."
Tim knew when he was beaten, so he sat in the comfortable armchair and reached for the tray. He was embarrassed to see that his hands were shaking.
"Let me get that for you."
"Thanks Ducky, s...sorry about this..."
"What nonsense, if I was Jethro I would smack the back of your head; you have nothing for which you should apologise. It is I who should apologise to you...how I could believe, even for a moment..."
Tim shook his head vigorously.
"Don't Ducky...you're not to blame for what happened; that's on Neville...as for what people did or didn't believe...not tonight...I'll think about that tomorrow."
He looked down at the half empty soup bowl, and then up at Ducky.
"I really can't eat any more...I'm just so tired..."
Ducky took the bowl from Tim, and gently put his cool hand on Tim's forehead, he was very hot.
"Quite right Timothy; time for you to get some proper rest. Have a drink now...I'll leave a jug of water here on the night stand. You need fluids, so if you wake up, be sure to drink."
"Yes Mom!"
"I mean it young man, and if your mother was here, she'd be telling you…"
Another bout of shivering started Tim's teeth chattering again, and Ducky hurried to the closet for an extra blanket.
"If you need anything, you call me, whatever the hour; your phone is right here, I'm a light sleeper, so call if you need me!"
"Will do Ducky…thank you…for all this."
"You are most welcome, now, do try to get some sleep, you must be exhausted."
"'Night..."
"Goodnight."
Tim pulled the duvet closer, he was still cold; he knew it was the fever, but that didn't stop the chills. He was so tired, sleeping in lock-up had been a non-starter, sure, he had been worried about the other inmates, but worse than that…Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Gibbs' eyes, ice blue, cold, staring at Tim as if he was a piece of garbage in the gutter; how could he sleep with the burden of such revulsion?
That look had hurt him more than any of the blows that had been inflicted on him, he could deal with the physical pain, the bruises would heal; but as he tossed and turned, still unable to sleep despite his exhaustion, the vision of Gibbs' unrelenting gaze would not leave him.
Ducky opened the door a fraction, he wanted to check on Tim, but didn't want to wake him. He gave a deep sigh when he saw how restless his 'patient' was, but the water glass was empty, so at least he was getting some fluids; as quietly as he could Ducky crossed the room and poured another glass.
"Thanks Ducky."
"Still can't sleep?"
"Off and on..."
Ducky rested his hand on Tim's forehead, and whispered.
"You will feel better soon young man, your temperature is still high, but a good night's rest, even if you can't sleep right through, will do you the power of good."
Tim's eyelids were drooping, and with a satisfied smile, Ducky went back to his fireside.
It wasn't long before the phone rang.
"Jethro, I thought you might call."
"Is he getting some sleep Duck? He looked out on his feet earlier."
"His fever is keeping him awake I'm afraid, but he's had a little something to eat..."
The silence at the other end of the line was full of unasked questions.
"Duck, can I come over?"
"Any time Jethro, you know that, I happen to have a bottle of single malt. I'll look out for you; don't want the doorbell disturbing Timothy. Have you far to come?"
Gibbs grinned, Ducky knew him too well.
"Two blocks, I was hoping..."
They sat quietly, a glass of Scotland's finest at hand; Gibbs stared deep into the dancing flames in the fireplace.
"I have done some stupid things in my time Duck, but this, this was beyond stupid Neville set it up to push all the right buttons; those little girls; it was...if someone had ever done that to Kelly...all I could see was the children, I lost sight of McGee, believed every vile thing Fornell told me..."
"Fornell is your friend, he offered you proof, seemingly incontrovertible proof…"
"But I never asked Tim, talked to him…just dismissed him out of hand, let them take him away...I let him down again Duck. It was bad enough I let Metro take him after the Benedict shooting, but this..."
"No! I didn't...you're wrong, no!"
The cries from the other room had Ducky and Gibbs running. Tim was tossing to and fro on the bed, all the bedclothes crumpled in a matted heap on the floor. His eyes were closed, his hair damp with the sweat that was pouring from him.
"I won't say that...I never, it's a lie!"
Gently, very gently Ducky laid his hand again on Tim's forehead.
"Timothy...listen to me, it's Ducky, you're staying with me, remember? You are not in the dreadful place any longer..."
Tim struggled to open his eyes, was that Ducky? It wasn't Fornell…or Sacks…then where was he? Staying with Ducky; that was it, trying to sleep, but he was so hot, then cold, he shivered…and asked in a rasping whisper.
"D…did I wake you Ducky?"
He tried to sit up, but didn't seem to have the energy and fell back onto his pillow.
"Jethro, would you get my bag please? It's on the table in the hall. No, you didn't wake me Timothy, but you are starting to worry me, you need proper rest, perhaps I should have taken you to hospital, just to be on the safe side."
Tim shook his head.
"It's just the flu Ducky, nothing to worry about."
Gibbs handed Ducky his bag, and Tim couldn't contain his gasp of surprise. Gibbs was the last person he had expected to see. Ducky put the thermometer in Tim's mouth, and was about to apply the blood pressure cuff when he noticed something new to concern him.
"I think I'll be the judge of what is worth worrying over young man, now, we need to get you out of those wet pyjamas…did you bring more nightclothes?"
Tim gestured toward his back pack as Ducky checked the thermometer and gave a small sigh.
"Old T-shirt…shorts…"
"Then let's get you changed, don't want you catching a chill on top of everything else. Your temperature is higher than I would like, but your blood pressure is lower than it should be. If you manage to get some proper sleep, and feel a little better in the morning I'll rethink taking you for a check-up, agreed?"
Tim nodded slightly, he was sitting on the edge of the bed trying to unfasten the buttons on his pyjama jacket, when did that get to be so hard? Gibbs felt a pang of guilt as he watched Tim's trembling fingers struggling over such a simple task, he'd missed this too, missed that Tim was sick, was his famous gut letting him down?
"Here, let me."
Tim flinched, and pulled away.
"It's okay, I can…"
Ducky put his hand on Tim's shoulder.
"Let Jethro help Timothy, you sit on the armchair there, and I'll get some dry sheets."
Tim's eyes were bright now, not only with fever, but with unshed tears.
"Sorry about this...I'm causing you so much work…I should have stayed at home."
"I would not hear of it! Look at you, weak as a kitten, how are you meant to look after yourself pray tell, never heard such nonsense…"
Ducky was still muttering as crossed the landing to get fresh bed linen. He left an uncomfortable silence behind. Gibbs tried again.
"Can I help with the jacket? There's a towel here, dry yourself and then put on your T-shirt."
As the last button was unfastened and Gibbs helped peel off the soaking wet jacket, Tim tried to wrap the towel round his shoulders, but he wasn't fast enough. Gibbs had seen the darkened skin on Tim's back.
"Tim, let me look."
Tim gave a gentle shake of his head.
"It's nothing..."
"Doesn't look like nothing to me."
Tim looked Gibbs in the eye for the first time since he'd entered the bedroom, and Gibbs almost took a step back, such was the reproach in that gaze.
"Wasn't the worst thing that happened to me this week…they'll fade soon enough…"
Nothing more was said as Ducky busied himself with changing the bedclothes, Tim didn't refuse Gibbs' offer of assistance as he walked back to the bed, he honestly didn't think he could make even that short distance without keeling over. Yet again, Ducky made sure Tim had a good drink of water before filling the glass once more.
"Is that better, more comfortable?"
Tim nodded weakly.
"Don't know how to thank you Ducky…"
"Just get a good night's sleep; that's all the thanks I need."
Ducky went back into the living room, leaving Gibbs alone with Tim.
"Tim…those bruises, was it just Sacks?"
Tim shook his head.
"Fornell too?"
A single nod.
"Tim…what they did, that was wrong…I…"
Tim looked at Gibbs, his eyes full of pain, of bleak emptiness; he lay back in the freshly made bed, and before merciful oblivion finally overtook him, he whispered.
"They have daughters Gibbs."