Chapter 7

Two days later...

Tim inhaled deeply, hating what he was about to do but knowing that this was probably the only option the was left to him. Abby had asked for updates on what progress he was making and he knew that if he didn't turn up something, she'd keep asking until he did. That meant he had to show her something, even just a snippet of something...and he chose the most innocuous section he could think of supplying: the table of salaries and benefits for Observers of varying experience.

It would not help anyone with anything...but it would get Abby to accept that he had tried...even though he hadn't. The only time it had been harder to be an Observer than now...

Tim winced at the memory. Four years in the past and he still couldn't think of it without a pang. While he was thinking about it, though...

He pulled out his phone and dialed a number he'd known for many years...but didn't dial very often at all.

"McGee residence."

"Hey, Mom. It's Tim."

"Tim! Oh, it's been...a long time since you've called," Naomi said anxiously. "How are things going? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Mom. I'm fine. I was just...just wanting to talk to someone...someone I don't have to lie to. Do you mind if we just talk for a while?"

"No! No, of course not. I wish you'd call more often. I think it's been at least a year since I spoke to you last. Tim...we miss you so much."

"I know. I wish there some way...I just...I didn't realize..."

"None of us could have known...but if you had, Tim, would you still have done it, still have taken the job?"

"I don't know. What I do is important, Mom. It's making things better...keeping people safe."

"I know...but not even the police give up as much as you have to do this job, Tim."

"I know...but it's important...and there's so few important things that I can do."

"Tim, you sell yourself much too short. There was a lot of important work you could have done instead of this. I'm not saying that your job isn't important, but it isn't the only important thing you could do."

"So many people lose their lives every day, Mom. We know that better than most do. If it takes some sacrifice to push back against that kind of person...it's worth doing! So more people can avoid feeling what we've felt!"

"I know, Tim. I know. Your father will be home soon. He'd want to talk to you, too. Can you stay on until he comes?"

Tim felt the same sadness he always felt when he called his family, but he also knew that he had to give them a chance to talk with him...and he loved his parents. He wished that it was feasible to visit them...which it wasn't.

"Yeah. Yeah, I can...unless I get a call."

"I know. That's how it is." Naomi paused for a few seconds. "How's your friend Abby?"

"She's fine. She asked me to help her find a...an Observer Handbook."

"She what?"

"Agent Gibbs asked her to find a copy and she couldn't; so she asked me."

"What are you going to do?"

"Lie."

That was the only answer necessary. They'd had the conversation too many times not to know what that one word encompassed.

"I'm sorry, Tim. I know you don't like it when it becomes necessary."

"No, I don't. If she ever finds out..."

"Well, she shouldn't if the program works as it's supposed to."

"I know, but who says it will forever?"

"No one. It probably won't...but you'll just have to deal with that if and when it comes."

Tim heard a sound in the background. A door closing.

"Is that Dad?"

"How did you even hear that, Tim?"

"Lots of practice, I guess."

"I guess. Yes, it's your father." Naomi's voice softened as she covered the receiver. "Sam! Tim's on the phone!"

"I don't believe it. I thought he'd forgotten how to use one!"

It didn't take long before the faint voice clicked in on the extension.

"Tim!"

Tim smiled. "Hey, Dad."

"It's so good to hear your voice again."

"I've sent you guys messages...kept you updated."

"I think Maya Angelou put it best: 'Words mean more than what is set down on paper. It takes the human voice to infuse them with shades of deeper meaning.' I can hear all sorts of things in your voice, Tim...things that your words cover up. What's wrong?"

"I just have to lie again...and I don't want to."

"Then, don't."

"I have to, Dad. Just like last time."

"And they always come first, don't they. Before everything...and everyone."

"Yes."

There was a soft sigh. "Tim...you know that I love you and that I support you in what you've chosen to do...but that doesn't mean I don't think you've made a mistake...one that you can still change."

"For what, Dad? What can I do that's more important than what I'm doing now? I'm saving lives!"

"And you can't do that any other way?"

"No more than you can still run a mile," Tim shot back and then instantly felt horrible. "I'm sorry, Dad. That was wrong. I'm sorry."

Another silence.

"I can't run a mile, Tim. Heck, I can't even take a single step...but I love what I'm doing with my life. Can you really say that about yours?"

"What I'm doing is important."

"That's not what I asked, Tim. I asked if you love what you're doing."

"No, I don't," Tim said, not wanting to be honest, but hating the lie. "I don't love it...but I'm doing a good thing, and it gets me as close as I'll ever be to what I would love to do."

"Tim, maybe you should think about trying to get into NCIS itself if that's still what you want."

"No, Dad. I couldn't ever be a part of that. At least when I'm working here, I don't have anyone staring at me with that insulting mixture of pity and worry. I'm someone people can rely on and they don't think less of me because of what I look like...because they can't see it. I'm just a voice that they trust. Even Agent Gibbs trusts me now! It's something I've earned, not something given out of pity. I'm good at my job."

"I would never even suggest that you're not, but Tim, you could be happy even with..."

"I'm not you, Dad. You're happy with what you're doing, even if you're in a wheelchair. I'm not ever going to be that way. So I might well stick with what works."

"You could go back to the doctors again. Maybe they'll–"

"No! I'm not dealing with that again. Every time I go...I build up another false hope and it's always false. It's never real. So what's the point? I can't keep doing that."

"Okay, okay. It's been so long since you've called, Tim. I don't want to ruin it with another argument. Let's just talk."

"Okay, Dad." Tim took a breath and let it out slowly. "Tell me what your classes are like this year."

"I finally got the university to let me teach a seminar-based course on Churchill."

Tim laughed. "I knew you'd wear them down eventually."

"You betcha."

Tim was able to stay on the phone with his parents for another hour before he heard one of his charges indicate that they needed him.

"Sorry, I have to go."

"It's been wonderful to talk to you, Tim," Naomi said. "Please don't wait another year."

"I won't. Promise. Bye." Tim hung up and linked into the com. "Hello, Sgt. Dewey. This is your Observer. How can I help you?"

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

One day later...

Gibbs was glaring at his monitor. What Abby had managed to dig up on the Observer Handbook was basically worthless. Starting salary? Insurance? What good was any of this? ...but then, that's probably why it was available. Useless.

He was about to delete it but then he looked again.

"Sick days? Vacation? Anything?" He skimmed through the material again. There was nothing. Nothing to indicate any compensation for days off. ...did Observers even get days off? They had to.

"What was that, Boss?" Tony asked.

"Nothing." Gibbs stared at the information again. No, if this segment he'd been given was complete, a successful application to become an Observer meant giving up any free time...for as long as one was in the job. ...and there was nothing about severance pay or anything like that.

"What are you looking at?" Ziva asked curiously. "I thought you were convinced that we had our killer. You sent the case to JAG already."

"Oh, he did it," Gibbs said without looking up.

"Then, what's up?" Tony asked.

"Nothing," Gibbs said and then rolled his eyes when his phone rang. He closed the file and answered. "Gibbs."

"Agent Gibbs?" the whispered voice sounded nervous.

"Yes. What do you want?"

"I have information...about your case."

"What case?"

"It's more complicated than a guy out to kill cops. A lot more."

"How do you know?"

"I have information, but I'm not giving it out over the phone."

"Sorry to hear that," Gibbs said and started to hang up. NCIS (along with every other law enforcement agency) had cracked down on anonymous tips and snitches. Too many led to nothing.

"I know things that you'll want to hear...about the Observers!"

Gibbs paused. If he could get actual evidence of a link between this case and the Observers... but there was no guarantee that it was real. This might be a guy whose only goal was to take out a cop or two.

"I need something more than that."

"There's a plan...about the Observers. I overheard it."

"Okay. Where?"

"I'm not meeting you with your posse."

"Where?" Gibbs said again.

"Out of DC. West. Drive northwest into Maryland. I'll give you better directions then."

"Fine." Gibbs hung up, grabbed his gun and headed for the elevator.

"Boss, bad idea!" Tony protested.

"Yes, Gibbs, this is foolish. You know that..."

"Hey, I won't be alone." Gibbs smiled and continued on his way. As soon as he left the building, he called for Tim.

"Hello, Agent Gibbs. This is your Observer. How may I help you?"

"Hey, McGee. We're going for a ride. I need you to watch my back."

"Where are you going and why is it necessary to go alone?"

Gibbs smiled at the resignation in Tim's voice. Sometimes, he did let out just a bit of emotion.

"To meet a possible source and get some evidence. I'm headed toward Maryland right now. Don't know exactly where just yet."

"Very well." There was the typical pause. Gibbs guessed that Tim was linking in to whatever he used to trace Gibbs' whereabouts, whatever it was that made it so easy for him to give vital information. "Is this a good source?"

"Don't know. That's why I want you on the ready. In case this is a wild goose chase."

"You should take real backup, Agent Gibbs. This is unsafe."

"I trust you. I don't trust him. It'll be fine."

"Very well," Tim said again.

Gibbs drove in silence for a few minutes and then his phone rang.

"McGee?"

"Yes, Agent Gibbs."

"I'm getting a call. Can you link in and trace it?"

"Yes."

Gibbs answered the phone. "Where?" he asked.

"Head north on 270. Then, get onto I-70 and take the Braddock Heights exit. There's a church just off highway 40. That's where I'll be."

Click.

"Did you get him, McGee?"

"Only the general area, Agent Gibbs, but it fits with the directions he gave you. He can be trusted that far."

"All right. Let's go, then."

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

Tim watched anxiously as the blip that was Gibbs came to a halt at the church parking lot. He had a bad feeling about this...but he often did when Gibbs went off by himself. Trying to focus on the task at hand, he hooked into one of the satellites overhead and instructed it to zoom in so that he could see what there was to see.

"Talk to me, McGee."

"I see your position...but there is no sign of..." Then, he stopped, and his mind instantly changed tacks. "Get back, Agent Gibbs! Get back! Go! It's a trap! Five men coming out of the church! Go!"

To Tim's relief, Gibbs didn't ask any questions. He turned and headed back to his car, but then, he and Tim both saw a problem.

"Take cover! I'll call for backup!"

"Hurry it up, McGee," Gibbs said and Tim watched him dive for cover as the bullets began to fly.

Tim linked in to the larger network and hooked into the NCIS building.

"Agent DiNozzo."

"Agent DiNozzo, this is Agent Gibbs' Observer. He is in immediate need of..."

...and then, Tim couldn't speak. He couldn't move. He couldn't think. He could barely breathe. A jolt of electricity surged into his brain. It felt as though his entire body was on fire...but his head in particular. The jolt was so powerful that it knocked him off his chair and to the floor, his muscles seizing in response. It was a million times worse than a taser. Jethro was by him in an instant, nudging him and whining worriedly.

"H-Hello?" Tim managed to get out. There was no sound in his head, none in his ear. Nothing.

"Can anybody hear me?" he begged.

Jethro's whining increased.

"Jethro. Go. Get help. Abby. Go." That was all Tim could get out. He knew his neighbors wouldn't dare help, even if they were home which they might not be. Some neighborhoods were extremely tight-knit and they would come to each other's defense. ...but not here.

Tim dimly heard the sound indicating Jethro had opened the door and run out. He tried to move but all his muscles were still seizing from the jolt. His head was still on fire...and he was aware of strange sounds coming out of his own mouth, sounds he wasn't controlling at all.

How long he lay on the floor in that state, he didn't know, but suddenly there were footsteps. Multiple footsteps...and somehow he knew that these weren't friends coming to help.

"So...this is an Observer. A wuss in a wheelchair. Nice."

"Stop gabbing and get him."

"All right, but I'm not lugging those metal things on his legs."

"Fine."

Tim managed to exert enough control over his own muscles to move his head and look at the man as he approached. He grinned maliciously.

"Still awake, huh? Not for long."

He roughly grabbed Tim's legs and removed the braces. Then, a hand appeared in front of his face. The smell warned him and he tried to get away, but he couldn't. The rag was thrust over his face and he was forced to breathe in the rank fumes.

"So much for the powers of observation."

Then, everything went black.