Chapter 3
Tim lay limply on the stretcher, letting the EMTs do whatever they wanted. He just couldn't understand how this had happened. Over and over again, he could see Janssen's face as he had swung his fist. There had been no concern, not even any sudden rage. It had been cold and calculated. Whatever the reason, Janssen had wanted to hurt Tim.
He hadn't been attacked like this...something that had come out of the blue but had apparently been planned...not since Jewel.
For the first time in months, he thought of her.
"Tim?"
No. Not this time.
"Tim. Can you hear me?"
Tim felt motion. It hurt a little bit, but he didn't really react. He chose instead to stay in this in-between world where he could allow his mind to dwell on what had happened.
"What do we have?"
There were unfamiliar voices and a sense of controlled chaos around him, but Tim just stared up at the ceiling he could faintly discern beyond the bright light in his eyes.
"Guy was knocked down a set of bleachers. Barely responsive, but it seems to be more psychological than physical. Possible bruised ribs. He'll need stitches on his face. I'm more worried about his mind than his body. Could have been much worse."
"Right. Name?"
"Tim McGee. One of the LEOs in training at FLETC."
Flash of light in his eyes.
"Tim?"
"Pupils equal and reactive."
"Tim, can you hear me?"
Tim winced as they touched his shoulder.
"Possible shoulder injury. Bruising on his chest."
"Are you having any trouble breathing, Tim?"
Fingers probing his face. Tim sucked in a sharp breath.
"Bruising, possible zygomatic fracture. Definitely need some x rays."
"Okay. Call Psych. Get them down here as soon as they can."
"Right."
"Tim?"
A hand in his.
"Just squeeze my hand, all right?"
Tim did so without hesitation.
"Good. We're going to take you to X-ray, now. Then, you might need some surgery, but we'll keep you informed."
Tim closed his eyes. Better to sleep through this if he could.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Director Connors sat down at his desk. He had Tim's file out in front of him. He had reports from the various instructors. All that would have to be dealt with later, but right now, with a serious injury in one of the students, he had to contact the people who needed to know...and he wanted to make the call himself.
He read Tim's file...and then read it again. He had family listed, but emergency contact was one Dr. Donald Mallard. He had no idea why, but he wasn't about to circumvent Tim's instructions. He dialed the number and waited.
"Hello, Dr. Mallard speaking."
"Hello, Dr. Mallard. This is Director Connors at FLETC."
"Oh."
Clearly, this Dr. Mallard was familiar with procedure.
"What's happened to Timothy?"
For a moment, Director Connors toyed with the idea of calling what had happened an accident...but since it wasn't, he decided to be blunt.
"Agent McGee was...attacked by one of the other students this afternoon."
"Is he seriously injured?"
"He's been taken to the hospital, but I've been told that his injuries are not life-threatening."
"But?"
"But they are worried about his mental state. He has been withdrawn, almost to the point of...dissociation, I think is what they called it."
"Oh. I wish I could say this had never happened before. I'll come down right away. What is happening with his attacker?"
"The situation is being dealt with. He was one of a cluster of FBI agents who'd been sent down here for the basic training. They had two more weeks before returning to the FBI training center at Quantico."
"What a shame."
Director Connors could hear the sarcasm but chose not to acknowledge it.
"Is that all you can tell me?"
"For the moment. I'll be speaking with Agent McGee myself to get his side of it, although there were plenty of witnesses."
"And no one stepped in to stop this travesty?"
"No. I'm sorry."
"I rather think that Timothy is much more sorry than you could ever be, Director Connors. Good-bye."
The click in his ear signaled the end of the conversation. He supposed that he could do other work here, but he felt he owed it to Tim to get the ball rolling on this as quickly as possible. He sighed. He really hadn't seriously entertained the possibility of something like this occurring. He had felt that Tim's comparison of the likely hazing to bullying had been inappropriate. These weren't teenagers. These were adults, men and women who had been hired to protect the citizens of this country. They wouldn't behave in that fashion. While he had been serious in telling Tim to come to him if something worse happened, he hadn't really thought it would.
He left his office.
"I'm heading to the hospital. Don't call unless you have to."
"Yes, sir."
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"Director Connors?"
"Yes."
"Come on back. We were going to call you."
"You were?"
"Yes. As soon as Agent McGee woke up, he was saying that he needed to talk to you. It's the first time he's really been interacting with us since he was admitted; so we're encouraging it. The attack was fairly traumatizing to him."
"Okay. How is he physically-speaking?"
"Bruised rib. Stitches on his face. He really lucked out, though. No broken bones. He's going to be sore and probably limping for a while. He has a large contusion on his right knee and another on his shoulder. All things considered, it could have been a lot worse. You've contacted his family?"
"Not his family, but his listed contact, yes. He's on his way. A Dr. Mallard."
The doctor looked at him in surprise but then nodded.
"Right in here."
"Thank you."
Director Connors headed into the room. Tim was lying on the bed, on his back, staring at the ceiling. There was something about the expression in his eyes. He didn't understand it at all, but there was much more to Timothy McGee than he had assumed there was.
"Agent McGee?"
For a few seconds, there was no reaction. Then, Tim blinked and looked at him.
"Director Connors," he said. A deep breath. "I...would like to make a report. I think this went beyond...hazing."
"Yes, it did...and I'm sorry."
Tim's eyes went back to the ceiling.
"I could see that it had changed. Janssen wanted to hurt me. I don't know why, but he did. There was something going on that I didn't understand." His eyes flicked back onto Director Connors. "This wasn't an accident. It was calculated. If you want to see what a sociopath looks like...you should look in his eyes."
"Are you sure that's not an exaggeration, Agent McGee? What he did is serious, and it's going to be treated as such, but..."
"No!" Tim said with unexpected fire. "I don't know his reasons, but Janssen would have been happy to kill me. He had it in for me from the first moment he got here. I could have sat in the same place without moving for days and he still would have found something to hate about me. He said that I could never be far enough away from him...and he meant it. I am not exaggerating. It's your choice and the FBI's choice about what to do with him, but he belongs in a cell, not carrying a badge."
Tim was shaking, whether with fear or with anger, Director Connors wasn't sure. This was the side of Tim that made people nervous. Whether he was right or wrong, his manner of expressing it made him appear rather unstable.
"I've seen the worst people can be. I've been the worst people can be, Director Connors. The difference is that I took steps to overcome it. Janssen hasn't."
"So what exactly happened?"
"I was sitting on the bleachers, waiting for the next class to start. Janssen came in. There were others around with him. He threatened me and I tried to get out of it. He hit me. He punched me right in the face. No warning. No reason beyond the fact that my existence offends him. No one tried to help. No one warned me. No one tried to stop him. I fell all the way to the floor. When I hit the ground, no one tried to help until Lucy Cronin came over."
Once again, his eyes moved off Director Connors and to the ceiling.
"I was in it alone, like I always am. I have gone through every hoop set up for me without complaint. I have tried my best, but it seems like there's always someone or something waiting to knock me to the ground."
One last time, Tim looked at Director Connors.
"I am not giving this up. I don't care how many of you want me out. I'm qualified to be here." He shook his head. "I just wish that I didn't have to fight like this every time I took a step."
As if exhausted by speaking, Tim dropped his head back to the bed and resumed staring at the ceiling. Director Connors could see that it was his cue to leave.
"A representative from the FBI will be coming down here to talk about what happened. He may want to deliver his personal apologies to you. I contacted Dr. Mallard and he's on his way down here."
No response.
"Janssen isn't getting away with what he did, Agent McGee. He's out of FLETC as of today, but it's up to the FBI to decide what they're going to do with him. You have the right to press charges."
"Like that ever helps." The whispered words didn't really seem to be spoken to him.
"It may seem empty, but I am sorry that this happened."
"Just a bit of hazing, right?"
A well-placed and well-deserved shot. Director Connors nodded and left the room.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Ducky was quick to get out of DC and call in every favor he could in order to get down to Glynco. Director Connors' summation of Tim's state made him worried. Why this? Why now when things had been going so well for Tim? ...but then, had they been going as well as Tim had said they were? Ducky now wondered. Tim had mentioned that there were a couple of people giving him grief, but had never intimated that it was going so far as physical assault. He had mentioned Director Connors' rather unimpressive directive.
But this...it had come out of the blue as far as Ducky was concerned.
When he arrived at the hospital, it was later in the evening, but early enough to visit. He walked into Tim's room without delay.
Tim was lying on the bed, awake and staring at the ceiling. Just breathing. He had a black eye, stitches running across his cheek and around the outside of his eye. Tim just had a defeated look about him...and that was discouraging.
"Timothy?" Ducky asked softly.
Tim didn't respond.
Ducky sighed. It was certainly incredibly unfair that this had happened. He sat down beside Tim.
"I'm so sorry this happened, lad. I came as soon as I heard."
Still nothing.
"You are not in the wrong, Timothy. No one thinks you are."
That got a reaction. Not the one he'd hoped for, but a reaction.
Tim laughed bitterly. "Oh, there are people who think I am, Ducky. Just not the ones in positions of authority. The ones who take action do. The ones who don't...they just sit there and let it happen."
Tim didn't look away from the ceiling.
"Are you second guessing your decision?"
"No! No, this is what I want!" A plaintive note entered Tim's voice, and Ducky was relieved to hear it. Finding the balance between Tim's anger and his hurt was hard to do, but they'd been managing all right. This was the first time in a while that he'd started edging toward the extremes...and still he wouldn't look away from the ceiling.
"Then, what is it, Timothy? Talk to me."
Tim was very still for a moment and then he took a deep breath and let it out quickly.
"Why does this keep happening? Why do I keep getting knocked down when I'm trying to make things right again? I didn't do anything, Ducky! I didn't put myself forward as God's gift to man. I kept my head down and talked to the teachers after class rather than draw attention to myself in class. What more could I have done?"
Ducky reached out and took hold of Tim's hand. It was stiff and cold.
"Nothing, lad. Sometimes, you do your best, but you can't change human nature. You can't change what others have decided. You just have to go on and try your best."
"And when that's not enough? What then? He could have killed me, Ducky. ...and over nothing! It wasn't even like..." He stopped.
"Like Julia Westin?"
Tim nodded silently.
"You did not deserve what happened to you then, either."
"I know...but still...it happened, and..."
"Timothy, look at me."
Tim shook his head.
"Why not?"
"I don't want to."
"Look at me, Timothy," Ducky said again.
Slowly, Tim turned and looked at Ducky...and what he had been trying to fight came out.
He started to cry...or at least, his eyes teared up and he struggled to keep from breaking down. Ducky got up and sat down beside him, putting a gentle arm around his shoulders.
"It's all right to be discouraged, lad. You certainly have the right to be. You even have the right to be angry about the treatment you've suffered. Don't hide from perfectly legitimate emotions."
Tim didn't actually start crying but he did relax a bit.
"I'm just so tired of this happening, Ducky."
"I understand. What are you going to do about it?"
"I'm not quitting."
"Good."
Tim wiped at his eyes.
"I'm not...happy about what happened."
"I'm sure."
"I'm going back as soon as I can get out of here. I want everyone to see what happened to me because they did nothing."
"Are you sure of that?"
"Yes. It can't be covered up and the reason it always worked, every single time was because people could look the other way...and I let them." Tim sniffed. "I'm not going to let them this time. If they're going to try to ignore it, they're going to have to look away from me and not ever look back because this isn't going away. The black eye will heal eventually. The stitches will be taken out...but I'll have the scars on my face...and they'll know that they either helped it happen or else did nothing to stop it from happening. One person speaking up is all it would have taken."
"Perhaps...but perhaps not. It's not always so simple."
"Maybe."
"Is this about them or is that you're afraid that this really is your fault?"
Tim smiled a little. "Half and half?"
Ducky chuckled softly. "Understandable. It is not your fault, and you have a chance now to make a difference if you wish to."
"I can't change people."
"That's right. You can't, but you can allow them to change should they wish to...as you've been changing. Do you want to allow them?"
"I don't know," Tim said. "Part of me wants to...let them rot...even if I know that's not what will happen logically. I know that this matters more to me than it does to them. It's just not fair."
"No. It's not."
Tim took another breath and let it out.
"Did you know that someone, probably Janssen, broke into my room?"
"Really? You never mentioned it."
"Whoever it was..." Tim shook his head and smiled slightly. "...he took the teddy bear that Dr. Lewis gave me. Shouldn't matter, and I don't use it very often anymore, but...but it was mine! It was mine and it's gone. ...but it's a hard thing to admit means something. It's a stuffed animal! I just couldn't...say it to anyone."
"But you regret that it's gone."
"Yeah."
Ducky nodded.
"You're going to finish."
"Yes."
"And you'll exceed expectations."
Tim laughed. "I don't need building up right now, Ducky."
"Yes, you do. You're feeling down, discouraged and wondering what you've done wrong. You think that you should have been able to anticipate what happened today, even if it wasn't possible. You need building up."
Tim laughed again.
"So...now, you have something else to decide."
"What's that?"
"Are you pressing charges?"
"I want to...but no, I don't want to go through a trial. I don't want to have the attention it would require. The trial...the trial. That was bad enough...and there's an appeal in progress. I didn't have to testify the first time, but I might have to in the appeal...if it's granted. There's too much attention on me already. I don't want more."
"All right."
"As long as he doesn't get away with it."
"I don't think he will."
Tim nodded.
"Is it okay to be tired of all the ripples from what I did? It's the choice I made. It's the consequences...but I never thought they'd last so long. They don't seem to have an end."
"It's okay, but I think you'll find that the ripples, both good and bad, will go on."
"Great," Tim said, laying his head back on the pillow.
"For now, just focus on recovering."
"Will do. I want things to be easy again, Ducky."
"I think they will get easier as you go along."
"Okay. I'll take your word for it."
"Just relax for now. You're not alone, nor friendless."
Tim's voice choked up again.
"Just one friend. That's all I ever wanted."
"You always have more than one friend, Timothy."
"Thanks, Ducky."
Ducky sat with Tim for a little while longer and then left him to rest. The crisis had been confronted and passed. While things weren't wonderful, they were better.
However, there was something that needed addressing...and quickly. Tim's private space had been invaded. His possessions taken. That required an intervention.
Now.
