A/N: This is a oneshot written as a Hangman prize for GibbsLover. It takes place more or less in the current season, but the references are to the season 6 episode Caged...which I've visited twice already in stories. I hope I'm forgiven for treading on this ground yet again. :)

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS and I'm not making any money off this story.

Body without Spirit
by Enthusiastic Fish

Life without liberty is like a body without spirit.
Khalil Gibran

It was a slow day at work. Slow days were generally appreciated on the rare times they came. Sure, it meant that they had to catch up on paperwork that always got shoved to the side, but it also meant less stress and a chance to be a little relaxed.

...as long as Gibbs wasn't there breathing down their necks, of course.

Feeling as though he was mostly caught up, Tim decided to peruse the local headlines. Not exactly relaxing considering the state of the world, but his life wasn't immediately in jeopardy due to reading the headlines.

Ex-convict's death declared suicide

The headline grabbed Tim's attention and he began to read the article, short as it was, idly at first.

...but only at first.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Gibbs was coming down the stairs from reporting to Vance when he paused.

All had been generally silent in the bullpen. Tony, Ziva and Tim were taking advantage of the fact that he wasn't around. Getting some work done...goofing off a little. It was expected.

...but what happened next was not.

Tim jumped up from his desk, face ashen, and he walked toward the elevator.

"Hey, McGee, where are you going?" Tony asked.

"Out."

The flat tone should have been a warning. Perhaps Tony was genuinely concerned by Tim's expression. He stood up and reached out to stop Tim in his walk.

"Out where, Probie?"

Tim roughly brushed Tony's hand away.

"If I had wanted to talk to you, Tony, I would have. Just leave me alone." Tim continued on his way and Gibbs came down to the bullpen as the elevator doors closed.

Tony was halfway around his desk and Ziva was looking worriedly in the direction Tim had gone.

"Stay, Tony. I'll go," Gibbs said and walked to the elevator.

He had to wait for it to come back up, but that didn't take long. He went down to the main entrance.

"Hey, Henry, did McGee come through here?"

The old security guard nodded. "Like the devil was after him. Anything wrong?"

"Don't know."

Gibbs headed out and looked back and forth, trying to determine where Tim might have gone. Then, he caught sight of a man running for the pier. It was Tim. Gibbs hurried after him, wondering what had happened and where Tim thought he was going.

Maybe to the Barry?

But no. Instead of walking to the old museum ship, Tim walked to the fence that lined the pier and grabbed hold of the bars. Gibbs increased his pace until he was close enough to see that Tim was leaning against the fence, eyes tightly closed.

"McGee?"

"Nothing's wrong. I'll be fine," Tim said. "Leave me alone." The tone was slightly petulant.

"If nothing's wrong, why are you out here?" Gibbs asked with a slight smile.

Tim said nothing. He just swallowed, his face pale. He looked like he was about to be sick. The smile faded.

"Tim, what's wrong?" he asked more seriously.

"Sharon Bellows is dead."

"Who?"

Wrong thing to say. Tim whirled around, his eyes open and flashing angrily.

"Who? Who? You don't remember? How typical. I'll bet if I said the name of the officer, you'd remember. You'd remember him, but not her. Maybe that's why she's dead! No one cared enough even to remember her name!"

"Hey!" Gibbs said loudly. "What's going on, Tim?"

Tim took a few shallow breaths, clearly trying to calm himself down. He turned back to the fence and rested his head against the bars. ...the bars.

...like a prison.

It clicked. The name suddenly made sense.

"The woman who killed Trimble."

Tim nodded. "Remembered his name fine," he said bitterly.

"What happened?"

"She committed suicide. It was in the news. Headline. She'd only been out of prison for a year."

Gibbs was surprised that this was hitting Tim so hard. So far as he knew, Tim hadn't kept in contact with any of the women in the prison. It would have been strange if he had, given the nature of their interactions.

"She left a note. It just had one sentence."

"What was it?" Gibbs asked, knowing that, if Tim had read it, he would remember it.

"'If my survival caused another to perish, then death would be sweeter and more beloved.'"

Gibbs was quiet, digesting what that might mean.

"Even when she got out, she wasn't free. You know what she meant, even if she didn't say it. There are only a few people who know...and no one will say it. Ever. It doesn't matter. And no one will pay any attention to an ex-con killing herself. They won't care about the kids she left behind. They won't care about the fact that she was put in prison for fighting an abusive boyfriend. No one will care about any of it." Tim's hands curled around the bars again and he shook the fence. "Might as well have left her in prison!" He kicked the fence and his voice got angry. "Why didn't we just let her stay there? A murderer to the end! Killed her boyfriend who beat her, killed the man who was drugging and raping her daughter, killed herself. Three times!" Tim shook the fence again. "What's the point?"

Gibbs grabbed Tim by the shoulders and turned him away from the fence.

"Hey! Get a hold of yourself, Tim!"

"She's dead, Boss!"

"Yeah, I know."

"Doesn't that matter?" Tim was almost in tears.

"Why does it matter so much to you?"

Tim opened his mouth and then he stopped. Confusion washed over his face for a moment and he pulled away, turning back to the fence.

"I don't know...but this is wrong. This shouldn't have happened, Boss. We all lied so that she could get out and take care of her kids. All of us...and...and who's going to take care of them now...and...and I don't know."

Gibbs said nothing but that worried him, too. Tim had gone through the required debriefing after his time in the prison, but then he had seemed fine. To see him, two years after it had happened, reacting this strongly, was disturbing.

"This isn't how it was supposed to happen."

"Why did you come out here?" Gibbs asked quietly.

"I don't know. It seemed like...like it was the only place I could come...the only place that..." Tim shook his head and almost stroked the fence. "I hated the bars. I really hated being stuck in there. I can joke about it sometimes, but...but I don't like thinking about it much."

Gibbs pulled Tim back around, away from the fence.

"Tim, don't."

"Don't what?"

"Let yourself get pulled back there. It's been two years."

"Two years...and right now, it feels like yesterday."

"Come on, McGee."

Tim shook his head.

"I don't want to be inside."

"Come on."

Tim shook his head again and pulled back.

"No."

"Not inside. Just come on."

Tim reluctantly followed and Gibbs led him to a bench near the building.

"Have a seat."

Tim sat down and rested his elbows on his knees. Gibbs let him sit for a few minutes without speaking. Finally, Tim sighed and ran his hands through his hair.

"I'm sorry, Boss. I really...really didn't think anything like this would happen."

"What? Sharon Bellows dying or your reaction to it?"

Tim managed a half-hearted laugh. "Either. I didn't. It wasn't...I'm sorry." Another equally-weak laugh. "Some tough guy I am, right?"

"What makes a tough guy, Tim? Pretending everything is okay when it's clearly not?"

"Sure. ...but it was only a day. I shouldn't have had this problem still. Not now. Not ever really...but really not now."

"Never seen that listed as a rule anywhere."

"Not on your list?"

"Nope."

Tim sat up and took a breath. He looked around the park and then stood up.

"I'm okay now, Boss."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

"You don't have to be, Tim."

Tim surprised him one more time.

"Yes, I do. If I don't start being okay with it now, I never will be. I'll let it control my life. I can't do that. I'll be fine today and I'll figure out how to let it go."

Before Gibbs could think of something to say to that declaration, Tim squared his shoulders and went back into NCIS. He looked after him for a few seconds and then followed him inside. He got up to the bullpen to find Tony and Ziva both standing with Tim who was smiling a little. Whatever Gibbs had missed hadn't made them less concerned but it had clearly diffused the tension that had arisen from Tim's reaction.

For the rest of the day, Tim was quiet and there were no other outbursts. In fact, the rest of the week passed in the same way. Tim didn't act out, didn't act angry. ...but he didn't act like himself either. He firmly resisted attempts to draw him out, good-natured and concerned attempts from both Tony and Ziva. Gibbs watched and knew that Tim was still engaged in his own struggle to move beyond the strong emotions that had taken him by surprise.

Finally, the next Tuesday, Gibbs could tell that Tim had come to some sort of decision. While still quiet, he seemed less uncertain than he had before. After work was over, Tim turned down invitations to go out and left by himself. Gibbs decided to follow and see what his solution had been.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim parked his car, got out and walked into the cemetery, a large bouquet of flowers in his hands. He had looked up the location of the plot and he knew where to go. He walked over. There wasn't a headstone set up yet. Maybe there wouldn't be at all. The plot itself had few flowers on it considering the funeral had only been a couple of days before.

It was a small, basically-useless gesture, but Tim felt as though it was necessary. Quietly, he knelt down and added the bouquet to the fading blooms already there. Then, he stood and just looked at the plot, trying to figure out his own feelings.

"She just wants to be a mom again."

Which was why Celia had taken the blame for something she didn't do. ...and here it was, one year later, and Sharon was dead. Now, she couldn't be a mom.

And why does this bother me so much?

He really wanted to figure this all out and then get over it. He hated that it still bothered him. He hated that it was an issue for him. He had known Sharon Bellows for all of a day. If that. What was it about her?

Then, as he stared at the grave, he remembered the look in her eyes. Even when it was patently obvious who was guilty. She hadn't said it, hadn't confessed. Her desire, her need to get out was so strong that it had nearly taken over all rational thought. Her guilt was in every line of her face and in the way she had sat there across from him. ...but she wouldn't say it, as if not saying the words would help her get to her family sooner.

That feeling of being trapped. He knew it. He knew the feeling, perhaps not to the same degree, but there had been a moment, when they were about to cut off a finger, that he had felt as though he'd say anything to get them to stop, to leave him alone. He'd do anything. He'd felt trapped, like Sharon Bellows had felt trapped...like her daughter had likely felt trapped. Driven to do whatever it took.

He understood far too well, and that was what bothered him. He felt he understood Sharon Bellows too well and he felt guilty that she was now dead...as if he himself had driven her to it by allowing her to get away with murder.

"McGee?"

The voice wasn't unexpected really. Tim didn't bother looking over.

"What would have happened if I'd said no?"

"About what?"

"What if I hadn't let Celia get away with claiming that she'd killed Trimble?"

"Why?"

"Would Sharon still be alive?"

"In prison?"

"She never really got out, Boss. Isn't that clear enough? She was still in prison...in her own mind."

"Nothing you can do about that."

"Not now." Tim stared steadfastly at the dirt, the newly-laid sod.

"No, Tim. There's nothing you could have done to save her."

"Why not? I was there. I looked into her eyes and I understood. I really did. If it had been Sarah...I might have done the same thing. I understood. ...and I went along with it, thinking it was better that way. ...but it wasn't! She's dead! She might as well have stayed in prison."

"No."

Finally, Tim looked up. He turned around to face Gibbs...feeling a little teary if he were honest about it.

"Why, Boss? Tell me why."

"Because you can't control people, Tim," he said. "You can't change what they choose."

"But I could have."

"No. You could have tried, and do you really think that it would have been any better for Sharon Bellows to be alive and in prison, kept away from her family, than to be out and at least be with them for a little while?"

"I don't know!" Tim said. "Don't you see? I don't know! I just know that...that...that this is not right!" He pointed back at the grave. "It's not how it was supposed to end."

"Not everyone gets a happy ending, Tim."

"I know that."

"Then, accept it," Gibbs said, seriously. "You have to, Tim. You can't go on thinking that if you had done things just right everyone would be fine. Life doesn't work that way! You'll be as much of a prisoner as Sharon Bellows was if you keep that idea in your head."

Tim turned back to the grave and hunched his shoulders. After a few seconds, he felt Gibbs grab his shoulder and squeeze it tightly.

"Let it go, Tim."

Tim didn't answer. He just stared down, embarrassed that he had tears in his eyes.

"Why did you come here, Boss?"

"To check on you."

"Thanks."

"You brought those flowers?"

"Yeah."

"They're nice."

"Yeah."

The hand on his shoulder became a guide, turning him away from the sight of Sharon Bellows' grave and back to the main entrance to the cemetery.

"Let's go. You can't save them all."

"I know that. Just doesn't seem fair."

"It's not. Never said it was. Let it go."

Tim let himself be guided away, but halfway out, he stopped and looked back. Gibbs pulled him along.

"Stop looking back on what you can't change. It doesn't help."

"Does looking forward help?" Tim asked.

"Not all at once, but eventually...but it's the only thing you can do."

Tim nodded and walked out of the cemetery with Gibbs.

FINIS!