Chapter 4

They descended upon him that evening. Tim had known they would come. His talk with Dr. Washington had lasted well over an hour, had left him feeling uncomfortable...and yet better than he had felt for a while. Not perfect, but better.

"Tim!" Abby said happily. "You're looking okay!"

She hugged him...but gently, for which Tim was very grateful.

"Thanks."

"I thought you'd be on your death bed!"

Tim smiled. "I had my appendix removed, Abby. I wasn't dying."

"You could have been," Tony said seriously.

"But I wasn't," Tim said firmly. He looked at Gibbs briefly and then away.

"How long will you be here, McGee?" Ziva asked.

"Until tomorrow. They want to make sure there's no infection that develops after the surgery. I'll be homebound for a few days, maybe a week or two and then I'll be allowed to come back to work...on a limited basis." He looked at Gibbs. "It'll be about a month before I'm back to normal, Boss. Is that okay?"

"It's fine, McGee."

He didn't say anything else, but Tim could see a warning in his eyes. He looked back at the others and smiled.

"I'm feeling a lot better."

"You sure, McGee?" Abby asked.

"Absolutely. Compared to how I was feeling before, I could almost sprint right now." He sat up and then winced. "Okay, maybe not sprint...just yet."

Abby laughed and they all settled down and talked until nearly the end of visiting hours. Ducky and Jimmy joined them when they could and it was a relatively muted party, but a party nonetheless. Tim noticed a certain amount of awkwardness...but there always was. There was always some tension whenever any one of them remembered the past. Usually, they just pushed past it without overt comment, but they all noticed it. The problem was that Tim was in a hospital bed. They couldn't help but make the comparison.

The result, of course, was a few awkward pauses, which thankfully, were brief.

"How are you getting home tomorrow?" Ziva asked.

"I'll probably take a taxi. I don't know exactly when they're releasing me."

"One of us can come and get you," she said.

"I know, but I don't know when it will be. It's easier to just plan on a taxi."

Cue awkward pause.

"Guys...you don't have anything to worry about. I'm okay. Dr. Weimann says that this wasn't caused by my drug addiction."

"I didn't think it was," Tony said...unconvincingly.

"Right."

"McGee, really!"

"Tony, it doesn't matter...and thanks."

"For what?"

"For making me come. I wouldn't have done it on my own...or if I did, it might have been too late. So thanks for checking on me...no matter why you did it."

The others exchanged glances which more or less cemented Tim's thought that they'd talked about it and wanted to make sure he wasn't relapsing. Too many awkward moments and they began to hem and haw, meaning it was time to go.

"I'm pretty tired still, guys. I'll see you later."

The out was gratefully (if not gracefully) accepted and they all stood to leave. Ziva leaned over the bed before she left.

"Call us, McGee," Ziva said. "If we have time we will come."

Tim squeezed her hand briefly and smiled. "I know you will."

Then, they all left...well, almost all of them. Gibbs and Ducky hung back. Tim had known this would happen, and he had been ready for it.

"You didn't tell them, McGee," Gibbs said.

"I know. I'm not going to."

"Why not?"

"Because that's not something they need to know."

"Isn't it? Don't you think that this might affect–?"

Tim sighed and interrupted. "There's a lot of things that can affect us. You've kept plenty from us that has affected us. This might affect me, but I don't think it will have an affect on anyone else."

"What if it holds you back from doing your job?"

"It hasn't yet. Has it?"

"Maybe. Maybe we won't know until it's too late."

Tim sighed and looked at Ducky. "He told you about it, I take it?"

Ducky's expression was grave. "Yes, and I must say that I'm concerned by what Jethro had to say."

Tim nodded. "So was Dr. Weimann."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning he had me talk to a shrink here this afternoon."

Ducky sat down beside the bed as Tim pushed the button to bring the back of his bed upright.

"And?"

"And..." Tim fiddled with the bed controls. "...and we talked."

"About what, Timothy?" Ducky asked.

"About my...being afraid still."

"Was he concerned?"

"Hard to tell...he's a shrink." Tim managed a half-smile and then looked down at the bedding. "It was...good."

"In what way?" Ducky asked, now sounding slightly amused.

"Mostly...he's just...helping me believe what I already know."

"That sounds helpful. Will you be continuing this trend?"

"Yeah. Tomorrow, before I get released, he's going to talk with me again and then set up some more sessions...while I'm recovering."

"And you think it will make a difference?"

Tim shrugged. "Probably. Can't possibly hurt, can it?"

"More than likely not," Ducky agreed.

"McGee?" Gibbs asked.

Tim looked up. "Yeah, Boss?"

"You get your head straightened out. We clear?"

"Yeah, Boss. Clear."

"Then, I won't say another word about it." Gibbs headed to the door and then turned back. "I'm glad you're all right."

"Me, too."

The door closed and Tim looked at Ducky with a weak smile.

"You've done your duty, Ducky. You can go now."

"I can do that if you'd like, but do you really wish to be alone, Timothy?"

Tim shifted uncomfortably and winced. "Not...not really...but I don't really want to talk about anything either. Everyone feels like, like they have to...to talk around the fact that they're still worried about me, about being addicted to drugs. I don't want to talk. I don't want this to...to turn into being all about the way I was...even if I worry about that, too. ...but I don't want to talk."

"You don't have to, Timothy. I'm more than willing to sit here in silence...or to speak about trivial things. Whichever you prefer."

Tim smiled.

"I like your stories, Ducky, but...right now, I'd rather just it be quiet. Do you mind?"

"Not at all. Why don't you lay back and relax?"

Tim pushed the button and the bed reclined. He settled down and closed his eyes.

"Thanks, Ducky. Gibbs could have been quiet..."

"...but his silences aren't generally comfortable?"

"No. Not at all," Tim said.

"I'm flattered that you find me capable of generating a comfortable silence."

Tim just smiled and didn't reply. Without the pressure to speak, to perform...to worry as everyone else did, Tim was able to relax. He lay in silence for a while and was surprised that Ducky didn't move to go. Finally, he said what he had wanted to say before but hadn't dared.

"I'm scared," he whispered without opening his eyes.

There was a long silence and then Tim felt Ducky take hold of his hand.

"I understand that, lad, but you have no reason to fear. We will not abandon you, and you will not be forced back into the same situation."

"I'm still scared."

"And you may lean on us any time you need reassurance."

"Thanks."

There was no response, but Ducky squeezed his hand encouragingly and didn't let go. Finally, Tim was able to slip back into sleep.

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

Ducky waited until he felt Tim's grip on his hand slacken...and even then, he waited until he was certain Tim was really asleep. The worry lines smoothed out of his face. When he looked at him like this, Ducky could forget that Tim had ever been an addict. Although he hid it better than the others, it was often on his mind. After the lengthy process of withdrawal, and Tim's extreme ups and downs, it would be a long time before they could all forget that Tim had been addicted to drugs.

It was sad that it was this way. Some things just lingered, and Ducky knew they lingered in Tim's own mind as well. He remembered, and apparently, he feared a relapse a lot more than they did. When would it really be forgotten? Would it ever? Perhaps not. ...but perhaps it didn't need to be forgotten so much as accepted.

Tim had been an addict, but he had fought his addiction and he had won. It was too bad that they could only think of the addict part, not the triumph part of Tim's past.

As he stood to go, Ducky resolved to change his own thoughts. Even if Tim never knew of Ducky's worries, it was best if they didn't exist at all, at least for all intents and purposes.

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

When Tim awoke the next morning, Dr. Weimann checked him over and, while he cautioned Tim against doing anything strenuous for the next week, he did allow that Tim was ready to go home, to move around. However, he needed to take it easy for a while and let his body recover from the strain of the appendicitis and from the surgery.

Dr. Washington also scheduled further sessions with Tim, twice a week for the next month. Tim agreed readily enough, but he was uneasy at the extra instructions he was given: to participate more in his group therapy sessions. Still, he could admit that he had problems to overcome and that meant dealing with it on more than one front.

Tim's determination to fight against his phobias only strengthened as he recovered and returned to work. He wasn't sure where the determination had come from, but it became a need to prove that he was really beyond his addiction. That included his fear. He pushed it away the first time he went to the store and bought some over-the-counter pain relievers. He struggled with it, and he tried to resist the temptation to feel only revulsion for any sort of medicine.

And his struggle mostly undertaken alone and in secret. In his determination to overcome it, he also wanted to keep its existence from his friends. Gibbs knew but he didn't pry. Ducky knew but simply indicated his willingness to be a listening ear. Tim wanted this to go away and so he didn't mention it again as the days passed.

By the time Tim returned to full activity, one month after his surgery, he felt as though he was ready to take the next step in his recovery and he didn't feel the same fear at the possibility of injury as he had before. He still had some sessions scheduled with Dr. Washington, but his anxiety had lessened dramatically.

...and all without letting the others know.