Chapter 7

Sam hung up the phone and looked over at Tim. He was asleep, although it wouldn't be for long. The doctor had decided that, until they got a chance to give Tim an MRI, they weren't going to risk anything going wrong. As soon as they'd let him, he'd fallen asleep, after being assured that Sam hadn't suffered any serious injury. He hadn't, and he was glad of it. Now, Tim was able to focus on himself for a little while. Thankfully, in spite of the hard knock, the doctor hadn't acted like he expected anything serious. Still, Sam would be much happier to see his son awake and not loopy.

Naomi had been more than a little relieved to hear from him and she'd be here in not too long.

In the meantime, Sam watched his son sleep. It hadn't been exactly how he'd planned the weekend going. The first part had been perfect, but the end? Well, while he had occasionally wished that he could go hiking again, his son carrying him on his back for ten miles hadn't been on his wish list.

Still, it could have been much worse. Tim's concussion was bad, but he'd recover. Sam had mostly adjusted to the restrictions of being in a wheelchair, but he had never felt so helpless as when he had been forced to watch his son being knocked out and then dumped on the bed. And all that time waiting for some sign that his son would recover.

As he watched his son sleep, Sam's mind shifted from that to something he hadn't done in years.

He'd killed someone. He didn't regret the deaths of those men who had threatened his son, who had killed before, who had stolen. It was just that...it had been so long since he'd handled a weapon. He couldn't deny that Tim's idea had been a good one, and at the time, he hadn't even thought about it. It was after having killed another man.

Tim stirred, interrupting Sam's thoughts.

"Tim?"

"I'll skip the fishing today, Dad," Tim mumbled.

Sam chuckled.

"No fishing. We're not in the cabin anymore, Tim. Remember?"

Tim's eyes were very heavy-lidded but they opened. He looked around.

"Where are we?" he asked thickly.

"The hospital, Tim."

"Oh...yeah...I remember."

Tim tried to sit up but gave up after only a few seconds. His head lolled around a little bit as he tried to wake up.

"Take your time. There's no rush."

"My head feels like it's full of...cotton stuffing. I didn't feel like this in the forest."

"I think the adrenaline might have had something to do with that."

"Oh." He shifted position and winced. "My back is killing me."

"I'm sorry about that."

Tim's eyes opened.

"Not your fault, Dad. It was mine, if anything. My bright idea to go running through the forest..." He tried to move again and groaned. "I'm never moving again."

Sam smiled. It was good to hear Tim talking normally, even if he was still a little slow.

"You'll have to move eventually."

Tim shook his head.

"No, Dad. I'm never going to move again."

"Yes, you will, but I won't make you move right now."

"Good."

Tim shifted a little bit more and then exhaled loudly.

"How are you doing, Dad?"

"I'm fine."

Tim opened his eyes and looked at Sam more carefully.

"Are you sure?"

Sam smiled.

"I do not know how long in the snow I wrestled with grisly fear;
But the stars came out and they danced about ere again I ventured near;
I was sick with dread, but I bravely said: "I'll just take a peep inside.
I guess he's cooked, and it's time I looked"; ... then the door I opened wide.

And there sat Sam, looking cool and calm, in the heart of the furnace roar;
And he wore a smile you could see a mile, and he said: "Please close that door.
It's fine in here, but I greatly fear you'll let in the cold and storm—
Since I left Plumtree, down in Tennessee, it's the first time I've been warm."

Tim laughed a little, but then, he still had to ask.

"No problems with the cold?"

"None. You did a good job of keeping me warm enough."

"And now?"

"Now, I'm nice and toasty. They're only keeping me here as a precaution."

"Is there something else, then?"

"What else?" Sam asked.

"I don't know...but...you seem a little...bothered."

Sam debated whether or not he should lay an additional problem at his son's feet, but if Tim was aware enough to see that he was troubled, trying to hide it would only make him more worried. Tim had a bad habit of assuming the worst when it came to his father.

"I killed two men last night, Tim," he said. "That's not something I've had to do for a long time. I forgot how it feels...and I think I'd like to forget it again."

Tim did push himself more upright that time.

"I'm sorry, Dad. I really...didn't...even think about that."

"Don't worry. I didn't, either. I'll be fine. It's just a little bit of a...shock to think about."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm very sure, Tim. You had a good idea because they wouldn't have expected me to be dangerous, but they would expect it of you. It was a good way to keep them distracted. I don't think I could have come up with a better idea myself, even back when I was in the Navy."

Tim still seemed bothered by the idea that he might have caused some discomfort.

"Tim, I promise. I don't regret what happened. It's just going to take some time to adjust to it."

They didn't get a chance to talk anymore because the door to the shared room opened, revealing Naomi. She didn't give either of them an opportunity to say anything. Instead, she hurried in and silently hugged them both. Then, she sat down by Sam and looked at them.

"You two..."

"It wasn't in our plans, Naomi," Sam said. "Cross my heart. We weren't happy about it, either."

Naomi actually looked a little teary which was unusual for her. She hugged Sam tightly again.

"I'm sure you weren't. Are you both okay?"

"We'll be fine," Sam said. "Really, all we needed was a rest."

"And I'm never moving again," Tim said with a smile that was a little forced.

"What happened?"

"Your son decided he wanted to give me an extended piggyback ride."

"How extended?"

"I believe that Agent Gibbs said we made it about ten miles."

"Ten miles?"

"I'm never moving again," Tim said. "My back aches."

"To go along with your head."

Naomi reached over and hugged Tim and kissed him on the top of his head.

"You two must have the worst luck of anyone in the world," Naomi said. "I don't know what I'd have done..."

Tim suddenly looked bothered. Sam didn't push it while Naomi was there. She fussed over them both for a while. Then, she said she'd let them sleep and be back later. After she left, Sam looked at Tim.

"What is it, Tim?"

"Nothing," Tim said softly. "I'm just tired. I think that..."

"Tim."

Tim looked at Sam and then down at the bed.

"What is it?"

"Bad luck," Tim said. "You and me..."

And Sam got it.

"This ended a lot better than the last time."

Tim nodded and smiled a little. "I know that...and I'm trying not to, but..."

Sam wished the beds were closer together. Tim looked forlorn.

"I know, Tim. I hate that this weekend ended so badly. I had really high hopes...that maybe you and I could stop with the blame and the guilt...finally. But..."

"The best laid plans..." Tim whispered.

"'Happiness can only exist in acceptance.' George Orwell," Sam said.

"'Just do what must be done. This may not be happiness, but it is greatness.' George Bernard Shaw," Tim said in reply.

"'When what we are is what we want to be. That's happiness.' Malcolm Forbes."

"Nathaniel Hawthorne. 'Happiness is a butterfly, which when pursued, is always just beyond your grasp, but which, if you will sit down quietly, may alight upon you.' ...and if you do another one, Dad, I can't think of any more. My head is still really thick."

Sam smiled. "I'll leave you with a Sanskrit proverb, then. 'Yesterday is but a dream, tomorrow but a vision. But today well lived makes every yesterday a dream of happiness, and every tomorrow a vision of hope. Look well, therefore, to this day. Such is the salutation to the dawn.'"

"Nice, Dad. I'm really not trying to...be difficult about this."

"I know. If it makes you feel any better, Tim, this is my fault since I'm the one who dragged you out there."

"It doesn't."

Sam chuckled. "I know. But it wasn't your fault, and it wasn't mine, either. So both of us need to not worry about that and just accept that we had some bad timing. And do you know what the only solution is?"

"What?" Tim asked.

"To go on another trip and have it go perfectly. Then, we'll know that we're not jinxed."

Tim laughed a little. "Dad...the first time, you got paralyzed. The second time, we both almost got killed. If we try again, we might end up destroying the planet."

Sam laughed, too, but then, he got serious. "But you saved us, both times, and I have complete confidence in you to do it again, if necessary."

"I don't remember."

"I know you don't, but it's true. You got out of the car and found help after the accident. Who knows how long it would have taken for them to get to us? And last night, you carried me for ten miles, on your back. No matter how much pain it gave you, and you came up with the idea that got us out."

"Not quite. He would have got us if Gibbs and Tony and Ziva hadn't found us."

"Doesn't matter. Please don't let this become a reason to avoid me, again, Tim. You've been reluctant to spend time with me because of all the mess of my paralysis. I've missed out on too many opportunities as it is, and I promised myself that I'm not going to miss out on any more. Got it?"

Tim nodded. He leaned back again.

"Just promise me one thing, Dad."

"What's that?"

"Next time...we go somewhere with a working phone."

Sam laughed. "I promise. ...maybe."

Tim laughed and then groaned.

"But remember that I'm not ever moving again."

"I remember. Go to sleep, son. You'll feel better."

"Will I?"

"Well, not for a few days, but that's okay."

"Says you."

"Yep. Says me. Your father is ordering you to sleep."

Tim nodded.

"I'm okay with that, Dad. Good night...or morning...or whatever."

Tim closed his eyes and painfully leaned back on the bed. In a few minutes, he was asleep. In fact, he was snoring. Sam watched his son sleeping again and smiled. They'd both get through this.

...and in the meantime, since he didn't feel very tired at the moment, Sam started to plan their next excursion.