Chapter 3
Two weeks later...
After another week, Tim suddenly became more coherent...but no less disturbing for all that. The swelling had continued to go down and Dr. Khalid was pleased with that, but as Tim was able to speak more, what he said was more concerning. He had declared that he was dead, and no amount of persuasion so far had convinced him otherwise.
During the night, when he was alone, he slept but would have nightmares that caused him great distress. They seemed to solidify his belief in his death. All Dr. Khalid could do was encourage those caring about Tim's well-being to have hope that this would pass.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Tim didn't like it when people came to visit. Tony could see it in his face, now that he was staying awake longer than a few minutes at a time. Tim's eyes would drift away from whoever was there, as if he was surprised to see the trappings of his hospital room. Still...Tony tried to stay upbeat. It was hard to deal with it...and it must be even harder for Tim. He was trying to be understanding, but at the same time he found it hard to believe that Tim could be so certain he was dead.
"Hey, McGee. How you feeling today?" he asked and then winced inwardly at the false heartiness in his voice.
Tim blinked at him. That was depressingly normal. He didn't seem to know what to do when being addressed directly.
Was this better than Tim dying on impact? Tony wanted to say no, but at the same time...he wasn't sure. If Tim was stuck like this for the rest of his life, would that really be better for him?
Tim silently put his palm on his head again. He did that a lot. He would leave it there for a few seconds and then pull it down and stare at it in confusion.
"Tim?"
Tim raised his eyes to Tony and tilted his head to the side.
"Why can you see me?" he asked.
"Because you're not dead, Tim. You're just injured and you're getting better. We've told you that a lot of times already."
"But it's not true. I'm dead."
"No, you're not!"
"Everything is separate. It's all wrong. You're far away...through it."
"Through what?"
Tim smiled faintly. "You can't see it if you're alive. Only the...the dead like me."
"Tim, you're not dead! Whatever it is you're seeing is just because you're still getting better. It has nothing to do with..."
Tim leaned back and closed his eyes. He wasn't sleeping, but Tony could tell he didn't like the conversation. He sighed in frustration. Part of the reason this was so difficult was that Tim didn't look like he should be thinking he was dead. Sure, he was a bit pale. Sure, he still had the stitches from his brain surgery, but he didn't have any other marks on him. ...and it was disconcerting to realize that there was still something so screwed up in his head.
Suddenly, Tim cried out wordlessly and both hands grabbed the sides of the bed...and then, he went completely limp...breathing shaking breaths.
"What happened, Tim? What is it?"
"I'm dead. I'm dead. Don't you understand?"
"If you're dead, how are you still here talking to me?"
"I don't know why they won't let me leave! I wish they would. I hate it. I hate this feeling."
"What feeling?"
"Everything is wrong. It's all off. No one looks right. Nothing feels right. Everything is wrong."
"That's just because you're not...not healed yet, Probie. It's not because..."
Tim suddenly opened his eyes and looked at Tony directly. This was when Tim was the most disturbing actually...because this was when he looked the most normal and yet was very not normal.
"Do you think this happened to Kate? She got shot in the head. You said she'd have a hole the size of a grapefruit in the back of her head. I saw her, you know. Around the building. In Abby's lab. In the drawer. And she talked to me...but when she was in Autopsy, she was dead. Do you think that's where I need to go to be dead? Maybe then, they'll let me go?"
"No!" Of all the comparisons Tim could make, he did not want Tim comparing himself to Kate. "No, McGee. Kate died. She was never alive after she got shot. You didn't die!"
"Yes, I did." Tim moved his head in odd motions from side to side, as if he was searching for the right angle. He was no longer looking at Tony. "I got out of cover. I thought that it would be better if I was..." He took one of those strange deep breaths that seemed to be normal for him. "...closer to Ducky and Jimmy...give them some protection...they're not armed...ever...not that I..." His voice trailed off and his eyes started to roll up in his head...and then he blinked and continued. "...and I knew as soon as I took a step...I turned. I saw it. It was like slow...motion...stuff. And it hit me...and I died."
"No, you didn't!"
The door opened and Tony turned around to see who it was. Dr. Khalid.
"Good morning, Agent DiNozzo. Good morning, Agent McGee. I expected to see your family here."
"Maybe they're deciding where to bury me. I'm going to rot away soon. It's been a long time," Tim said. He held up his hands and looked at them with the same strange expression. "They don't look right."
"I doubt that's where they are since you're still alive, Agent McGee."
"No."
"It's true. You are...but I won't belabor the point at the moment."
Tim didn't seem to be paying attention anymore. He was staring at his hands, rubbing his fingers together, looking perplexed.
"This place is wrong," he muttered.
"What was that?" Dr. Khalid asked.
"This place. It's wrong. I don't like it. Where am I?"
"The hospital, Agent McGee. You're in Washington Hospital Center."
Tim had started shaking his head before Dr. Khalid had finished.
"No. This isn't right. It looks like it could be, but it's not. It's wrong."
"What's wrong about it?" Dr. Khalid asked patiently.
For not the first time, Tony marveled at Dr. Khalid's patience with something that could get very frustrating. It was only frustrating because Tony felt like it would be too frightening if he didn't let it frustrate him.
"I don't...it doesn't fit. Everything's the wrong shape. Doesn't fit together. It's just wrong!"
"All right, Agent McGee. I have someone who'd like to talk with you about all this. Do you mind?"
"There was an angel. I asked her to take me with her...but she didn't. She said I had to stay. Am I in Hell?"
"No. You're not."
"Feels like I am."
"But you're not. You're alive, and you're most definitely not in Hell."
Tim just leaned back and closed his eyes again.
"Agent DiNozzo, why don't you come with me."
Tony gave Tim one last look and sighed. Then, he got to his feet and followed Dr. Khalid out into the hallway.
"How long is he going to be like this?" Tony asked, hating the plaintive note in his voice.
"I can't tell you that," Dr. Khalid said honestly and looked over at a doctor standing just a few feet away. "Just wait a moment, please. Dr. Gingras?"
"Ready for me, is he?"
"I don't know if he's ready, but you can go in."
"What's up?" Tony asked as Dr. Gingras went into Tim's room.
"I have to discuss this with Agent McGee's parents first. Family privilege, you understand, but after some lengthy discussions with my colleagues and some reading, we have some ideas about what may be going on."
"Does that mean you'll know how to treat him?"
"I wish it were that simple, Agent DiNozzo. Unfortunately, there's no clear path in this situation. But putting a name to what's going on will help us decide what to try next."
Tony usually tried to keep up his macho performance no matter what...but he shook his head and looked back toward the closed door.
"I thought...he was dead when he hit the ground. I thought that there was no way in the world McGee would survive getting shot in the head. A friend...she...she was killed like that, only with sniper's rifle, not just a 9-mm. We waited for two weeks for him to wake up. Then...we find that...that he doesn't think he could have survived either. ...and more than that, he says he's dead. It doesn't make any sense."
"Not to you, but it does to him."
"How can you be so calm?"
Dr. Khalid smiled. "Because this isn't my friend, my brother, my son. Agent McGee is my patient, and I have lots of patients. This is my job, Agent DiNozzo. I care about Agent McGee's well-being, but not in the same way you do. It's my job to keep my head on straight and focus on solving the mystery when there's a mystery to be solved...as there is in this case. Keep in mind that brain damage can be permanent. There's no guarantee either way. What we do have going for us in this case is that Agent McGee seems to be recovering from the initial injury. He's very lucky in that respect. If we can get a handle on what's driving this delusion he has, we may be able to get back his old self. We may."
"No absolutes, huh?"
"Never in neuromedicine. The only absolutes are the negative ones...so we prefer to ignore those and deal with the possibilities." Dr. Khalid smiled.
Tony returned the smile reluctantly. He understood, but it didn't mean he liked it.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
The door closed and Dr. Gingras was gone. Tim could not understand why everyone was so insistent that he was alive when it was patently obvious that he was dead. Now, they told him he was in DC, but he didn't feel like he was.
There was a window. Tim wondered where it had come from. He'd never seen it before. He hadn't bothered to get out of bed yet. Why would he? ...but this window hadn't been there before, had it? Tim wasn't sure of that.
Regardless, he sat up and then dangled his legs over the end of the bed. His head spun unpleasantly and there was an ache that formed right behind his eyes as he tried to stand. There was a shimmering all around him as he took his first faltering steps. He had to hold onto the railing on the bed to keep himself from losing his balance...but he persisted. He grabbed the frame of the window and looked through the shimmering wall out the window.
It was like someone had taken DC and changed it. Maybe it wasn't actually DC. Maybe they were trying to tell him it was. It didn't look right. It was almost right, but not quite. Everything was still off. The other doctor had tried to talk to him about it, but there weren't words really for how it all felt. How did one describe how it felt to be dead? All these people passing around him like shadows. He wasn't part of them. He was separate. Separate and alone, but at the same time, stuck in the world with nowhere to go.
...but here was evidence that he wasn't where he thought he was. This wasn't DC. DC wasn't this place. Someone had tried to make it look like DC, but it wasn't. The shimmering took over his vision completely...and he couldn't see.
...and he was running toward Ducky and Jimmy, trying to protect them...and there was a bullet flying toward him. It hit him...knocked him backward.
...and there were hands holding him up.
"McGee!"
"Timothy. What are you doing out of bed?"
That moment of being shot. That moment of feeling the bullet. He had taken a breath. Just one. That had been all there was time for. One last breath before...
"Get him onto the bed, Jethro. He's in no state to be standing for long periods of time. I'm surprised he was standing at all."
He was horizontal again. That made sense. Why would a corpse be walking around?
The shimmering started to recede, and Tim felt a quick spasm.
"It's all wrong. All...not...here."
"What do you mean, Timothy?"
Tim didn't bother to answer. Why explain? This place wasn't DC. Maybe these weren't even the people he knew. They didn't look right either. This shimmering veil. Maybe it would vanish if he found the right place. Maybe he could go with the angel if he found the real place. She'd said he had to stay where he was, but maybe she didn't think he could make it. Standing was hard for him to do...but...there was a bus...a Greyhound not far from where he lived in Silver Spring...if it was the real one. Maybe even the fake one would have it.
"Timothy?"
Ducky...he'd tried to help Ducky. Maybe he'd failed. Maybe Ducky had died, too. He looked at him...but no, he looked strange like the others.
"I died. Did you?" he asked.
"No, Timothy. Neither of us died."
"I didn't want to, but it was too hard to move. And it hit. Like Kate. Right in the head. Everything exploded and I died."
"McGee, you didn't die."
Tim found himself looking into concerned blue eyes...but they were too close and they frightened him. He raised one hand and then suddenly touched his forehead again. The bandages were gone, but still no blood.
"McGee! Stay down!"
"There's no cover for Ducky and Jimmy!"
"They have enough! Stay down until we can figure out where these guys are."
"Boss, look at them! They can't shoot back. They can't get back to the truck."
"Sorry...sorry..." He started to whimper.
"For what, McGee?"
"Stay down...didn't...died."
"You didn't die, and you were right. Those shots could have got them. You were right, McGee...and you didn't die. You're still alive."
Tim pulled his hand down from his head and looked at his forearm.
"I can see the veins. Skin's rotting away."
"No, it's not."
The air shimmered again and Tim closed his eyes. This was intolerable. He hated every moment of the time he was stuck here.
"You're not right. You're not right. All is wrong. Everything...everyone. Why won't they take me away?"
He tried to sit up, to get up, but they kept him in place.
"Agent Gibbs? Dr. Mallard?"
More sudden voices. Appearing from memories...
"Mom...tell them I'm dead."
"You're not, Tim."
"When will you bury me?"
"You're not dead. Agent Gibbs...could we speak with you for a moment?"
"Of course."
Tim cracked open an eyelid as he heard the door open and close.
Open...close. The door opened and closed. He should be able to do that. His hands weren't rotted away yet. For whatever reason, he was stuck in his body, even though he was dead. He could get out and find the right place to leave from.
...but not when people were around. Those strange people who had been his friends and family...they kept holding him here. Better just to get away. Completely away...but in the darkness.
He closed his eyes and tried to wait.
