Chapter Two
Gibbs turned out the light, closed the door behind him, and stood outside on the landing. He took a minute to compose himself; the hurt he had seen in Tim's eyes would haunt him for a very long time.
Ducky watched his friend walk slowly down the stairs and poured a generous measure of Scotch into his glass, Jethro looked as if he could use a drink.
"Did you see the bruises? They beat him; I Ieft him alone and they beat him, and he said...he said that it wasn't the worst thing that had happened..."
"Jethro, he's exhausted, he's ill. I'm sure he didn't mean..."
"He's right Duck, when I first saw the bruises, I thought, I'll get Fornell for this. I'll go round to his house and beat the crap out of him. But you know, is what Fornell and Sacks did to him any worse than what I did? I know McGee, they don't, and I let myself believe what they were telling me."
Gibbs downed his drink in two gulps.
"Jethro! That's 25 year old single malt."
The fact that his glass was empty seemed to come as a surprise to Gibbs, he smiled ruefully.
"Can I crash on your couch Duck? Can't drive home tonight."
He caught Ducky's anxious glance upstairs.
"It's okay, I'll leave early, need to get home, shower and change before work. I'll be gone before he's awake."
Ducky gave a relieved smile.
"You are always welcome, you know that Jethro; I just think he needs a little more time to come to terms with…with everything. Let me get a blanket for you. I can check on Timothy while I'm upstairs...pour yourself another drink."
"No thanks, I could use some coffee though."
"You know where everything is, I'll check upstairs."
Ducky opened the door quietly, but there was no need, at last Tim was sound asleep. The physical and emotional traumas of the last few days had finally caught up with him, and he was getting some much needed rest.
It was Gibbs who spent a restless night, and it wasn't Ducky's couch that was the problem; he had slept in worse places, much worse places. The problem was his own behaviour, his blindness, how had Ziva seen the truth when he had been so completely wrong? Ziva had said it was because she hadn't seen the evidence, was it that simple?
Friday Morning
When Ducky made his way down stairs he was not surprised to see the pillows and blankets neatly stacked and folded on the couch. True to his promise Gibbs was gone.
Ducky went into the kitchen, filled the kettle and picked up his phone, he had a few calls to make before he made his tea.
He called Gibbs first, and told him that he would call him when Tim was awake, and also to ask him to let the others know that they were not to call the house, he wanted Tim to get as much rest as possible. Then he called Director Vance to ask for the day off, and Vance had been happy to let Ducky start his weekend a day early.
"Tell McGee to take all the time he needs. After all he's been through I'd like him to speak with Psych Services before he's back in the field, I'll be guided by you Doctor, you tell me when McGee is well enough to come back."
Ducky made some tea and poured a glass of milk; he didn't want to disturb Tim, but he was becoming increasingly concerned that a lack of nourishment would hold back his recovery. A sandwich that he may or may not have eaten on Wednesday evening was not going to help Tim fight off this virus. A glass of milk was little enough, but it would be a start.
When he pulled back the drapes in the guest room Ducky could see that Tim was lying exactly as he had been when he checked on him last night. He was loath to do this, but he had to get Tim to drink the milk; Ducky laid his hand gently on Tim's forehead, it seemed a little cooler, and certainly he wasn't sweating as he had been.
"Timothy."
Ducky shook Tim slightly, careful to avoid the bruises.
"Come along young man, wake up for me."
There was slight movement from the figure in the bed, and Ducky raised his voice a little.
"Tim! It's Ducky, wake up."
"Ducky...tired..."
"I know you are, but you need to drink."
Tim finally opened his eyes and focussed on Ducky.
"Good lad, now let's get you sitting up, so that I can take a look at you."
"Could I use the bathroom first? Brush my teeth...maybe feel a little better..."
"Then let me help you."
"I can manage."
But he couldn't; as soon as he tried to stand his legs buckled under him, he had to lean on Ducky to make it as far as the bathroom. Tim emerged a few minutes later.
"Ducky, sorry about this, I got blood on the face cloth."
There was blood trickling from his mouth, the cut on his lip had opened up again. Watching Tim standing unsteadily, holding out a blood-stained cloth, feeling the need to apologise even though that cut had been inflicted on him by people who should know better, Ducky knew now why Jethro felt the urge to strike out at Fornell.
"No matter, let me look."
Tim flopped down on the edge of the bed and let Ducky examine him once more. A few tuts and one long sigh later Ducky handed Tim the glass of milk.
"Drink this; the whole glass."
He took the glass, but Tim looked with distaste at the contents.
"Don't really like milk Ducky."
"Liking has nothing to do with it, you need the nourishment. You have two options young man, drink that, or I will take you to the hospital and get you on an IV. Which sounds better to you?"
Tim knew when he was beaten; he downed the drink as quickly as he could, and looked up to see Ducky grinning at him.
"That wasn't so bad now was it?"
"Ya think?"
Ducky busied himself plumping up the pillows, and took the empty glass from Tim.
"What I think is that you still look as if you need some sleep."
"Sounds good Ducky...but, do you want me out of your hair? I can get a cab home..."
"Do not make me hit you Timothy. I am doing the very least I can. I am thoroughly ashamed of my part in your ordeal, allow me to do this for you; it is the very least you deserve."
Tim couldn't begin to describe his relief, the idea of getting dressed, walking up the stairs to his apartment, fending for himself...
"Don't know about that Ducky, but I'd like to stay, if you're sure."
"I'm positive, now back under the covers, and sleep, that's an order."
Tim's eyes were already closing as he whispered.
"On it."
Ducky went back to his kitchen a little happier, Tim needed sleep most of all, but he couldn't have gone much longer without some nourishment. As he stirred his tea Ducky shivered a little; how close had they come to losing Tim? Without Ziva, the evidence...Gibbs had told them it was overwhelming; and there was the crux of it. Gibbs...how often did they question Gibbs? He said Tim was guilty, end of discussion.
Friday Evening
Tim sat bolt upright, he'd fallen asleep, he wasn't supposed to sleep, they'd come for him, if they knew who he was...but this bed; soft pillows…this wasn't lock-up. Where was he? Slowly, as his heart rate settled back to normal, he took in his surroundings, Ducky, that's where he was, Ducky had let him stay.
For a few terrifying moments he had been back in the nightmare...but it wasn't a nightmare, it was real. His hands were trembling again, and this time it wasn't from the fever. They had really thought he would pay to watch sick, twisted men rape innocent children. During those long hours in lock-up he had tried and tried to think of anything he had ever said or done that could have led people...and not just any people, his team mates; to believe him capable...he needed another shower, the stench of that place still lingered and he had to wash it away, his mouth was suddenly dry; a drink, then a shower.
He reached for a drink of water, the glass was empty, he didn't remember drinking it, but he must have...Ducky had refilled the jug for him, so Tim reached over to pour a fresh glass. He tried to lift the jug, he should be able to do this, focus, pick up the jug. But he didn't have the strength, and the jug fell to the floor with a thud, water spilling out over the carpet.
Tim slipped to his knees and tried to scoop up the water in his hands, there was too much...
"Stupid...clumsy."
He was aware of the door opening, of course Ducky must have heard the jug hit the floor; Tim didn't look up, he didn't want to see the disappointment on Ducky's face. Tim felt a hand on his shoulder.
"McGee...Tim, leave it...I'll get a cloth."
"Jimmy? I...I messed up again...dropped the jug."
Kneeling down beside Tim, Jimmy pulled his hands away from the carpet.
"It's only water Tim, it will soon dry. Come on, you're getting cold."
"I keep screwing up Jimmy, I try my best, but it's never enough."
With support from Jimmy, Tim managed to get up from his knees, taking his first proper look at him; it took all Jimmy's self-control not to gasp aloud. Tim was so pale, the gash on his lip red and livid against his white face; dark smudges under his eyes accentuating the weariness and pain that Jimmy could see there. He looked a pale shadow of the man who had gone to lunch with him...was it only Monday?
"Don't worry about the jug Tim; do you want to go back to bed?"
Tim seemed to be having trouble answering even this simple question.
"Not bed, no. I want...shower, that's it. I need to get clean."
He seemed so unsteady on his feet that Jimmy was worried about letting him out of his sight.
"Okay Tim, you can take a shower, but I don't want you closing the bathroom door, if you fall I want to be able to get to you."
"I could use a little privacy Jimmy…"
Jimmy patted him on the shoulder and laughed quietly.
"I'm not going to be watching Tim, I'll just be around if you need help…anyhow, it wouldn't be anything I haven't seen before!"
Tim was momentarily puzzled; then a pale pink suffused his face.
"Oh, right...the poison ivy...that was pretty...dramatic..."
"As Doctor Mallard would say; it was indeed!"
"Is Ducky downstairs? I…I don't even know the time."
"It's 6.45, and Doctor Mallard has gone to visit his mother, he'll be back soon. Tim, do you think you could eat something after your shower? I can whip up a mean omelette."
"You know Jimmy, I think I am a little hungry, that sounds pretty good."
"That's settled then, you sure you can manage a shower?"
"I'm sure, might even have a shave too."
Tim smiled at the sudden panic in Jimmy's eyes.
"Don't worry; I have an electric shaver, not going to cut myself on that."
As Tim headed for the bathroom Jimmy busied himself getting a cloth from the kitchen and mopping up the water. He had been a little surprised when Doctor Mallard called him and asked if he would stay at the house 'in case Timothy wakes up', but now, having seen Tim's reaction to the spilled water, and his slow struggle to the bathroom, Jimmy could see exactly why he was needed.
Jimmy had waited until Tim got out of the shower, then he went down to the kitchen to get started on the food. He was beating the eggs when Tim walked in.
"Felling better?"
"Much."
He did look a little better, but his eyes still had a haunted look. Jimmy was surprised to see that he was dressed in sweatshirt and jeans.
"I would have been happy to bring this up to you Tim."
"No thanks Jimmy, I've been sleeping so long, it's good to be out of bed, at least for a while."
"Come and sit at the table, I'll get you some orange juice."
They were sitting quietly; Jimmy was delighted to see an empty plate in front of Tim. As for Tim, he'd eaten as if on auto-pilot, and he was currently staring at the clock on the kitchen wall. The omelette had been good, but Jimmy wondered whether Tim had actually tasted it at all. Finally Tim broke the silence.
"Did you believe them Jimmy? Wouldn't blame you if you did, everyone believed it. No, that's not true; Ziva didn't, but all the others, even Abby…."
How to answer? Honestly, he hadn't believed it; Tim had always been good to him, he'd taken him out for a drink after Michelle…after she died, and had driven him home when he got more than slightly drunk. But although he hadn't believed it, had he done anything about it? He'd taken the coward's way out, and kept his mouth shut, as the rumours spread round NCIS like wildfire, he never once stood up for Tim. Gibbs had allowed McGee to be charged; he alone had seen the evidence, and he'd let Fornell take Tim, so the way everyone saw it, McGee was history.
"It's okay Jimmy, I shouldn't have asked. I can't go back can I? How can I work there…when everyone is going around thinking I did that? It's impossible; I should have realised, it's over, my career in law enforcement just crashed and burned."
