Chapter 4

He awakens...slowly...carefully...as if he were afraid of punishment. His mind crawls tentatively out of the darkness, things brightening gradually as if the world were hooked up to a dimmer switch. He is afraid...and wonders why. He wonders why he is unsure of who he is, of why he feels such pain, of where he is. He knows nothing...only fear and pain, monsters who flit around in his brain like old friends. He knows there are things he should be afraid of, things that should shame him...but he doesn't know what they are.

Who am I? he wonders...and then, he knows...and wonders why he forgot. What happened to make him forget his name...and more than that... That frightens him, too. He tries to figure out where he is without opening his eyes. There is something wrong with him. He knows that much. There is something wrong with his body...something wrong with his mind...but he doesn't know what it is. ...or does he? He can sense that there is someone there, someone speaking in a low voice. If he focuses, he can hear the words...and he wonders why he expected not to be able to understand them.

There is a creak...a wheelchair. Dad...

"They're letting him come out of the coma now."

Coma? Me? Why was I in a coma?

"Is that wise? Agent Gibbs said that he was..."

Mom...

"That was three days ago. The doctors said that he has stabilized. He was dehydrated, half-starved...along with...everything else. They think they can manage it better now...and we're going to have to...make some decisions."

Dad...what happened? Why are you guys here? He wants to know, but he is afraid to show that he is alive...and why is it that he feels such a firm idea that Gibbs is dead?

"I don't like seeing him so still...but I guess it's better than he was. They said they couldn't get him to stop screaming."

Mom...you sound like you're crying. You never cry.

"I don't know if I'd prefer knowing he was at least alive to seeing him scream." There is a long pause and he feels a hand on his forehead, smoothing his hair. "Did they say anything to you about why?"

"Nothing. I don't know if that's because they really have no idea what the purpose was or if it's because they don't want us to know."

He feels a kiss on his forehead. "I hate the thought of what he must have been experiencing...all this time."

You're going to quote something, Dad. I can feel it coming. What is it going to be? He almost smiles, but can't bring himself to reveal his consciousness. He doesn't know why...maybe it's because he's not quite sure of his identity.

"Don't, Sam. Don't quote me something from a dead person...don't give me words from other people about this. I'm not sure I want to know."

That shocks him. His father's quotations are as much a part of life as breathing is. To stop him...that means...something is very wrong. That thought is confirmed by the fact that he hears nothing except for a deep sigh.

"All right, Naomi. No quotation this time."

Another long, long silence.

"I wish he would wake up. I want to know that he's going to be okay."

"He'll be okay."

What happened to me? Why are you so afraid? Why am I? Why can't I think?

"I wish I could believe you, Sam...but I'm not sure that... Tim?"

Tim...she's talking to me. That's who I am. Why don't I know that? ...but I do...I think.

"What is it?"

"I thought he moved...maybe I imagined it."

Tim opened his eyes. Things were so...blurry. He couldn't really see...and he didn't understand what was going on. He blinked...and blinked again. He wanted to talk, but for some reason, he couldn't make himself form the words.

"Tim?"

He stared straight ahead. His eyes wouldn't shift. He wasn't sure why.

"Tim, honey...can you hear me?" Naomi's face shifted into his line of sight. Tim tried to smile...and since he couldn't seem to make himself speak, he did the next best thing, he lifted his hand to her face...just to prove that she was really there. "Tim... let me get your doctor." Her face withdrew.

She was replaced by Sam.

"Tim, how are you feeling?"

Dad, I'm afraid...but I don't know why.

His fear was in his eyes.

"Don't worry, Tim. We're going to figure all this out...together. Just squeeze my hand. Can you do that?"

Tim could...and he did...but it hurt and he didn't know why.

"Good. Now, I don't want you to worry. No matter what. Things will work out."

Naomi came back.

"Dr. Sakota is on her way, Tim. She can explain things."

Why can't I talk? Why am I so afraid? Tim heard his breath, loud in his ears...and that reminded him of something...what was it? What is missing?

"Don't worry, Tim. Just calm down. We'll be okay. You'll be okay."

The door opened and he heard a voice, but he couldn't make his eyes move to see.

"So, he's awake?" The voice was not familiar, vaguely-accented and feminine.

"He's not talking, Dr. Sakota. Why not?"

A face leaned over him. She was middle-aged and pleasant-looking. "Tim, how are you doing?"

Why are you asking? I can't say anything!

"Can you understand me?" she asked. "If you can, blink twice."

Relieved, Tim blinked. Twice.

"Okay. Do you remember what happened to you, Tim?"

What happened? Something bad...but I don't know...why don't I remember?

"You've been missing for three months. Do you remember that?"

Missing? What? Three months? How?

"Your team found you four days ago. You don't remember that?"

Fragments of memory...but they didn't make any sense...they were layered with...with something incomprehensible...and with a lot of pain. Why was there so much pain?

"You can speak, you know, Tim. There is nothing physically preventing you from speech," Dr. Sakota said. "You won't be hurt for it. You aren't in any danger. You can speak."

Tim stared up at her in fear. For some reason, speaking frightened him...moving frightened him. It was terrifying. For some reason, Dr. Sakota seemed to understand...what he did not.

"I know you're afraid, Tim. I know that terrible things happened to you...even if you don't at the moment...that is also completely understandable. Your mind has retreated in an effort to maintain your sanity...but a part of you remembers and that part is what scares you. Believe me: you are safe. No one is going to hurt you. No one will take you away again. You are safe...and no one will hurt you if you speak."

Tim stared at her.

"Do understand me, Tim?" she asked.

Tim blinked. Twice.

"Good. Do you believe me?"

Tim hesitated and she smiled gently.

"Work on that because no one here wants you to hurt anymore. We just want to help you heal."

Her face withdrew and he heard her speak softly, asking his parents to go with her. Then, Naomi's face reappeared.

"Tim, we'll be right back. Don't worry." She kissed his forehead again and reluctantly released his hand.

Tim heard the door close and he was alone...alone with his mind. He knew things...and he knew that he knew them, but he didn't remember them until...until he remembered...and it made no sense. He couldn't think of a past...any past...except that he knew had one...and he knew what happened in that past...but it didn't seem to fit.

You will not speak!

It was like a jagged spike through his body and he began to hyperventilate. The fear exploded into full-blown terror.

You will not look away!

It was pain and it brought with it images...impossible images...images he could not tell anyone about.

It is your fault!

There were no tears. No sound...only breathing...only pain. The door burst open. He trembled, horrified and overwhelmed by fragments he did not really remember.

Arms around him.

"What is it, Tim? What's wrong?"

He grasped the arms. He couldn't identify the voice, who was speaking, but he held the speaker tightly, always staring straight ahead. Suddenly, he felt as though his entire body, not just his mind, was on fire. Still, he made no sound...but his breathing turned into hysterical gasps for air. His body was shaking, with pain, with fear, with...anguish.

Even if he could have spoken, he couldn't have explained what was wrong, couldn't describe the all-consuming agony that engulfed him. It was slowly tearing away his identity, the self he had regained...without knowing that he had once lost it.

"Tim, I'm right here. Remember when I used to drive away the monsters under your bed? When I could banish the nightmares? I'm here, just like I was then. I'm here. I can keep you safe. Don't leave us."

His eyes began to close under the onslaught, but then...then, Tim uttered a word...the third word he had spoken since being found.

"Mama."

He slept in her arms.