A/N: Written for the NFA Witness Protection challenge. The idea was to explain Tim's history by putting him in the Witness Protection program for whatever reason. The only requirement was that Tim's name had to originally be Toby McGregor. This does deal with domestic abuse, but it's not graphic.

Disclaimer: I do not now, nor have I ever owned NCIS. Too bad, ain't it?

Wanting to Help
by Enthusiastic Fish

Chapter 1: This Is Not Life

Toby wasn't sure when he first realized that not everyone lived like he had. He still remembered the first time he'd been in the room when Daddy had hit Momma. He had been young. Very young. He was pretty sure it had been his birthday. At least, there had been a cake with some candles on it. The rest of the day was vague. The only thing that was clear was Momma screaming and the sound of breaking glass. After that, there was the blood. He didn't know it was blood at the time, but he associated its appearance with Momma's pain and Momma's fear. That was what the blood meant.

Somehow, he knew it was wrong when Daddy shouted that it was all Momma's fault. He knew it because Momma loved him. Daddy didn't. Daddy never had. Not ever. He knew that Momma had tried to get away once and that it hadn't worked, that she had nearly lost Toby to Daddy because Daddy threatened to kill Toby if she tried to leave again.

All that was nothing to the first time Toby himself had been on the receiving end of Daddy's wrath. He was five.

"Daddy?" Toby asked quietly. Daddy had seemed to be in a good mood that day. No shouting. Normally, he would stay up in his room and listen to the rare silence and pretend that life was better, like the smiling people he saw on the street, but this time...

"What." It wasn't really a question, but he wasn't shouting yet.

"I...I went to th' school t'day," Toby said softly, trying to keep the quiet going.

"You what?" The dangerous edge came into his voice. Momma sat up, but froze as Daddy did the same.

"I went to th'school t'day. C-C-Could I go there? Every day?"

"You went to school?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Who said you could leave the house?" The voice was getting louder and more dangerous. "Did you?" He rounded on Momma.

"N-No, Daddy!" Toby said, frantically. "I jus', I jus' went by myself. I jus' wanna see what it's like. Please."

Rage properly focused, Daddy looked at Toby. "You went outside without permission?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"Do you know what happens when you disobey me?" Daddy stood and towered over Toby. He looked up and he could see the danger in his eyes, the hatred and loathing. Toby began to cower.

"N-No, Daddy. Please, no."

It didn't matter that Toby barely topped three feet. It didn't matter that he was scrawny. It didn't matter that earlier that day Daddy had been complaining about having him under foot all the time. All that mattered was the perceived defiance.

All that mattered to Toby was the pain when he hit the floor. He forgot about school. He forgot about everything except for the fact that he hurt. He lay at Daddy's feet for a long time. Momma didn't dare move. She didn't even scream when Daddy finally walked over to her and casually slapped her across the face.

"That's for not watching him more closely."

The slap broke the mental bonds that kept Momma from moving and she ran over to Toby, picked him up and carried him up the stairs.

That was when, as she cleaned up the blood and kissed the bruises, she told him the rules.

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

When Momma was expecting again, neither she nor Toby were happy about it...but Daddy was. Toby couldn't figure out why. Daddy didn't love him. Daddy didn't love Momma. Why did he want someone else to hate? When Sally was born, Momma was sad for a long time. After a few months of this strange lingering sadness, Toby went into her room. He picked up Sally from her bassinet and took her into his room. When Sally started to cry, he shushed her. He made her laugh. When she laughed, Toby felt something inside. He knew that was how life should be. Laughing. He should be able to smile and laugh like Sally. Momma shouldn't be crying and screaming. Daddy shouldn't hit. No one told him. Not even Momma ever said that Daddy shouldn't hit. Obviously, he shouldn't, but now, Toby knew that no one should hit. Hitting was bad. What Daddy did was bad. That made Daddy a bad man. After that, it was easier to live in the house. Daddy was a bad man. That meant that somewhere there were good men, that not everyone was like Daddy. If there was bad, there had to be good...somewhere.

"We'll find 'em, Sally. You an' me an' Momma. We'll find 'em."

"Toby! What are you doing?" Momma asked. She looked afraid, but she was out of bed. It had been a long time.

"I was makin' Sally laugh." Toby made another face at Sally and she gurgled happily. "Momma?"

"What, Toby?" Momma sounded so sad that Toby almost didn't ask.

"Are we bad?"

"No, Toby. We're not."

"But Daddy is."

She didn't answer.

"We should be happy, Momma," Toby said, looking at Sally. "Like Sally is happy now."

"Yes, we should, Toby...but that won't happen for awhile."

"Can we make sure that Sally stays happy?" he asked.

"I don't know, Toby."

"Please, Momma. I'll let Daddy hit me more instead of her. I wanna let Sally be happy."

Momma's eyes filled with tears and she pulled Toby close to her and kissed him, leaving tears on his cheeks.

"Oh, Toby. You are such a beautiful boy. We'll try to save Sally. You and me together. We'll do that."

"How, Momma?"

"We'll try to make it so that he doesn't hear her. If she cries, you and I will do our best to hide the sound. We'll teach her how to hide and we'll make sure that Daddy doesn't hit her."

Toby nodded solemnly. Daddy wouldn't make Sally sad. He wiped Momma's tears and kissed Sally again.

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

Toby never did grow very much. He figured that his body was afraid to grow. He didn't want to let Daddy see him. When Daddy was drunk, it was worse and Toby would hide in the closet for hours. Momma had secretly taught him how to read and write. There weren't very many books in the house, but he would pull the newspaper from the garbage can and read it when Daddy left. He made up stories and told them to Sally. They were simple stories about two kids and their mother who were happy. They seemed as fantastical to him as witches and warlocks seemed to other children.

One day, he was allowed to go outside. Daddy kept Momma and Sally there. He would have to come back, but he reveled in his brief moments of freedom. The sun was shining brightly and he ran all the way down the block to the cheerful playground. It was empty. Normal kids were in school, but he slid down the slide, swung on the swings, played on every piece of equipment there, and he did it all in about ten minutes. He tried to imagine Momma watching him and Sally playing in the sandbox. At only a year, she was too young to play on the bigger toys. It would have been easy for Toby to feel sad, but he had learned how to take a little bit of enjoyment. He would tell Sally all about the playground that night when Daddy started shouting again. He would make her smile.

It was Sally that saved Toby. He was so determined to keep her happy that he himself had to remember what being happy felt like. They fed each other's need for happiness. His time was almost up, and Toby knew he'd be in trouble if he was late getting back. He jumped off the merry-go-round and began to run back up the block.

"Hey!"

Toby froze at the male voice and looked back over his shoulder. There was a man there. He wasn't Daddy...but Toby didn't talk to anyone outside of his family.

"You didn't play for very long."

"Can't. Gotta go." He turned to run again.

"Wait!"

Toby froze again and waited for the blow. It didn't come. He looked in amazement at the man who didn't hit him.

"That sweater is much too thin. It won't keep the cold out."

Toby looked down at himself and back up at the man. What did he mean? "I don' got any other clothes."

"None?"

Toby shook his head.

"Wait here."

"I gotta go!" Toby pled.

"One minute. That's it." The man walked over to a car and opened the trunk. From it he pulled a sweater with the letters KSU on the front. It was much too big for Toby. "Here. You can have this."

"Why?"

"You need it."

"No, I don't," Toby said. He'd never received a real birthday present in his life. Momma tried to do something nice for him, but generally speaking, he was left marking off his birthdays and making the same wish for happiness that he did every year.

"Yes, you do. Besides, I want to give it to you."

"Why?" Toby asked.

The man looked at him sadly. "It's a present."

"You're givin' me a present?"

"Yes."

Toby reached out and took the sweater. He looked at it and then up at the man again.

"Really?"

"Yes."

An ache formed in Toby's chest. Why couldn't this man be his father? He began to cry and then he turned around, the sweater clutched tightly in his arms, and ran away. He heard the man shout for him to come back, but he didn't stop. He ran and ran until he got home. He shoved the sweater up his shirt so that Daddy wouldn't see it. If he was sober, he might, but he was never sober on the days he let Toby outside.

Toby ran inside and up the stairs to his bedroom. He held the sweater and began to cry as he had never cried before, not even on the days when Daddy hit him. Momma came into the room to tell him that dinner was ready, but Toby couldn't go down. He couldn't see Daddy and know that someone else could have been his father. Someone who was nice and gave presents. Someone who didn't hit.

When Sally came toddling into the room, he was still crying. She clambered up onto his bed. She smiled a gape-toothed smile at him.

"Toby," she said. "Toby cwying? Toby sad?"

Toby sat up, still holding the sweater. He set it aside and hugged Sally.

"Oh, Sally. Some day, we'll be happy. All the time."

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

At the first sound of screaming, Toby grabbed Sally and ran up the stairs. Sally was already crying, but he put his hand over her mouth and rocked her back and forth. She held onto him tightly. It sounded bad this time. It sounded really bad. A bottle broke. He was probably high. It was that time. Sally began to sob. Toby was afraid that they would hear and he picked her up again, pulling her into the closet.

"Shh...shh...quiet, Sally. We need to be real quiet. Quiet as mice, right?"

"'m scawed, Toby," Sally whimpered. She was only three and didn't understand why they had to hide. Why Momma was always screaming. Why Daddy was always so mad. Toby didn't understand those things himself, but what he did understand was the need to be quiet, the need to stay out of the way until the screaming stopped and until the house was quiet again. Then, he understood that in the morning he would have to help Momma clean up the mess and he would have to help her hide the cuts and bruises so that no one knew. That was the most important thing. To hide. They couldn't let anyone know.

He still remembered how she had taken him aside one day and explained to him what could happen if he told anyone what went on in the house. They would take Sally away. They would all be separated and Daddy would kill them. One by one. It was better to be together, even here.

"Tell me a stowy, Toby," Sally begged.

"Okay, but I have to whisper; so you'll have to be real quiet, okay?"

Sally nodded and stuck her thumb in her mouth.

"Okay. There was a little boy and his sister."

"What were thew names? Toby and Sawy?"

"Nope. Timothy and Sarah," Toby said, smiling. Sally grinned. They hated their names. Daddy had picked them, of course. Momma had told them once what she would have picked if she could have. They kept it a secret from Daddy.

"Tim and Sarah lived in a pretty house and it was always sunny during the day. They got to go to school..."

"I don' wanna go school," Sally said.

"I do," Toby said fervently. "I went once. It was amazing. Some day, I'm gonna go to school every day and I'm gonna be the smartest kid there. I'm gonna read every book in the library, and then I'll tell you what they say until you can read them, too."

There was another scream and then a fresh batch of cursing from down below. Sally burrowed her head into Toby's shoulder.

"Momma's real pretty and she gets to go shoppin' whenever she wants. She doesn't have to cry or clean up the broken glass. We got friends and go to the park nearly every day."

"What about Daddy?"

"Daddy's not there. Maybe Momma meets a nice guy...like the one in town. They gets married and we got a new Dad."

"Tobias Allen McGregor!" The voice thundered through the house, shaking the thin walls. "You get down here right this second!"