Timothy remembered a girl.
He was standing at an embankment, the lights of Chesapeake illuminating his figure. The river was wide, he couldn't remember the name, just saw the riverfront speckled with a few ships. A bridge stood in his periphery, and if he turned his head he would probably recognize it. Where he was didn't matter though.
He was remembering a girl. There had been a river there, not a river though, a stream. There had been woods. Tim had been twelve.
Tilting his head, Tim sighed and tried to zone out the happy murmur of chatter behind him. It was just before Christmas and lights were spread throughout the park, a concert was going on just down the way in the waterfront's outdoor amphitheater. People were happy.
Tim remembered that the girl had been just a little younger than him, or at least smaller, and she'd had the strangest face. Sharp little cheekbones with a small chin. Her eyes were an exotic sea green, too bright to be real, and between them had been an upturned nose. She'd been like a little fairy.
Tim chuckled, she very well may have been a fairy from what she'd said to him that day. He huffed, ignoring the chill creeping past his thick wool coat. His gloves had been forgotten in the car and the tips of his fingers were a bright red.
"One wish."
That's what she had said, giggling right after. He vaguely remembered his reason for being out in the woods. It had been a fight between his parents, about him, as always. What to do with him, if he remembered right, and the disappointment he'd always produced. Stand tall, be strong, don't take hits, take hits, don't talk back, scream back at them. His father had been a confusing mish mash of oxymorons. His mind at that age had been unable to understand the finer details and he'd been left feeling overwhelmingly underqualified to be a McGee, or to even be born.
He'd run outside, chased his shadow into the nearby woods, pretending he couldn't hear his mother shouting after him to come back. She wasn't much better, didn't understand how her little boy wasn't just like the strong man she'd married. Boys existed in a narrow category, and Timothy had never fit into hers.
The tune of 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas' slowly grew, a group of walking carolers passing by. Kate had always liked that song, whistling it the previous year almost every day in the month before Christmas. She'd proudly claimed to have sung in a choir as a youth.
Tony had made a crack about Tim looking like an altar boy, no doubt also the lead soprano in the church choir. Tim of course had been raised a methodist, loosely, he couldn't recall having ever set foot in a Catholic church.
Of course, that was before. Kate was gone now.
Tim flexed his fingers, the feeling in them slowly seeping away. The metal rail felt important though, like something he was supposed to hold onto.
He was remembering though, the girl, that night. He'd run and run, tears coursing down his cheeks as he had tried to forget the words. 'Tim will change, he'll get stronger, he'll be better'. His mother had always advocated for him, saying he would change, as if magically overnight.
At some point Tim had stumbled, fallen, and gone head over heels down a hill. Sobbing, and now hurting, he'd opened his eyes to see a little stream. It was bright, the moon overhead shining through the branches. Tim had felt very hopeless, twelve years old and wondering why he'd been born if he wasn't good enough for his family.
He'd seen a girl then, on the ground and glaring death at her leg. She'd been wearing a white dress which seemed to be made of some living being rather than woven cloth. She looked like a lily.
Tim had carefully approached her. She had bared her teeth, revealing oddly sharp canines. She had growled, looking more like a wild animal than a girl. That was when he'd seen the animal trap which was enclosed around her ankle. It hadn't actually injured her, but the way it was shut perfectly encircled her foot and made escape impossible.
"A-are you hurt?" Tim had stuttered softly, not taking notice of his own scrapes and bruises.
The girl's eyes had narrowed, fox like eyes judging him. Then she had grinned, lips pulling back.
"I'm ssstuck!"
She had flared her nostrils and tossed her head, hands smacking against the ground. Tim had looked on in worry, eyes drawn to the white lily skin trapped by the dark, rusted metal. He had recognized it, knew how it worked, the physics behind the metal contraption and how to release it.
"H-h-here, let-let me help," he had said, stumbling forward, hand reaching out.
She had clawed him, sending him tumbling back onto his butt with a forearm now bleeding. Tears had welled up and Tim had wondered what he'd done wrong.
"I-I'm sorry," he'd whispered out, eyes clenched shut and trying to handle the pain.
The girl had gone very still, the aggression bleeding from her so that she was like an uncanny still life picture. The sea green eyes had watched him in consideration. Tim had opened his own, ones now filled with tears and looking in betrayal at the girl he'd tried to help.
"I hurt you."
Tim had said nothing in response, now a little scared of the girl.
"Would you help me? I won't hurt you anymore."
Tim had hesitated before carefully moving forward. With deft, clever hands he'd removed the pin from the trap and the maw of it fell open, freeing the girl. She had jumped up, gambolling about, looking more like a fox roving through the ferns and trunks.
She had disappeared and Tim was left alone in the dark, moon casting down meagre light. The loneliness and abandonment had hit him hard.
"Boy!"
She had popped up, suddenly and as if from nowhere. She had eyed Tim's tear stained cheeks and red, puffy eyes with a keen curiosity.
"I know what I'll do," she had declared, seating herself next to Tim with her legs crossed.
She had reached forward, gently smoothing a small hand down his temple in an uncharacteristic gentleness. For one moment, she had appeared to be ages old, something which had grown with the trees and the grandparents of the trees, something far older than anything Tim had seen before.
"One wish."
Then she had pulled away, giggling.
Tim let his head fall forward as the carolers finally passed. The water ran in turbid currents below him, concrete raising him up and above it. The lights were reflected in it, murky mirrors of the warmth and life.
One wish.
He knew what Gibbs would wish for. Strangely enough it was his boss he had figured out the best when it came to this. The family briefly, but tragically, mentioned in his file was a surety. Tony would probably want girls and booze and eternal distraction from life and age. Probably. Abby would wish for something good, something which would change the whole world in an unexpected but necessary way, or for something so simple it would confound people. He could imagine the sparkle in her eyes as she did so and a wistful smile pulled across his face.
And Kate, maybe she'd wish for a perfect boyfriend, a companion less confusing and annoying than Tony. But Kate was dead.
Tim didn't know why he was remembering that time, over ten years ago in a woods he scarcely recalled. Until this moment he hadn't ever thought of it, pushing away the memories of being found by police, scooped up in blankets and returned to his terrified and angry parents. Their hugs had been intense, honest, but too short. You can't scare someone into changing.
There was little lingering affection after that. He would soon grow into a masquerade of a man.
Finally Tim pulled his hands away from the metal railing, shoving them deep into his pockets and relishing the immediate burn as his skin experienced a sudden temperature change.
Kate should be here. If anyone on his team should be gone, it should be him. She should be humming 'We Wish You a Merry Christmas' while Tony chanted his own invented playboy rhymes to accompany it, Gibbs stepping into the office with a rare smile. Happiness could be had with Tim's desk empty and Kate's desk filled.
Tim knew Gibbs missed Kate, would never forgive himself for her death, he knew Tony had been close with Kate, much closer than he'd ever been with Tim. Those were just his closest co-workers. Tim wasn't bad, decent at most things, always awkward, but even with his parents he'd been a strange substitute, one which was kept until their second child arrived. It was a recurring theme in his life.
The seagreen eyes came back to mind, slanted and considering.
"One wish," muttered Tim.
Looking back down at the river he tilted his head and murmured the words again.
"I wish I could have died instead of Kate."
There was a moment of immobility, the cheery sounds behind him muted. Then he thought he heard a high and familiar laugh. He turned, expecting to see the lithe white limbed figure of distant memory. Nothing was there.
A moment passed. The world turned black.