Chapter 7
Tim sent Sarah home on Saturday night, insisting that she didn't need to sit with him all the time. She had already blown off a night with her friends to be with him on Friday night and then Saturday. She had only agreed to go if he promised to call their parents before he went back to work. Sometimes, Tim couldn't help wondering who was the older sibling.
He took a deep breath and stared at his phone. He didn't call his parents very often. He knew his dad still felt guilty although Tim had long since stopped blaming him for it. He wasn't willing to give up his bitterness toward the Navy itself, but his father...his father had expressed more emotion on that night than he ever had. He had hugged Tim at a moment when he could have rejected his son for having brought dishonor to the family.
Still, he was nervous about calling them. Part of him felt like he'd never really grown up. He'd stopped growing up at age seventeen. He was just as uncertain about talking to people and to his parents as he'd ever been. ...but he also had a part of him that felt a lot older than he was.
The part that had lost Erin.
He took another breath and dialed home.
"McGees."
"Hi...Dad," Tim said softly.
"Tim, we haven't heard from you for a while. How are things going?"
"Not...not so great, Dad," Tim said, feeling the pain hit him anew.
"What is it? What's happened?"
"Erin is dead. She was murdered, Dad."
There was a long silence.
"Tim...I'm so sorry. You seemed really happy with her."
"I was. I was...but she's dead now, and I don't know what to do, Dad."
"Do you really want some advice?"
"Yes," Tim said, feeling his throaten tighten up.
"Day by day, Tim. One day at a time. Don't focus on the future without her. Just focus on getting through a day...because you can."
Tim laughed a little bit and sniffled. "I didn't...know you were so smart, Dad."
"I'm not. It's all your mother."
"She's dead, Dad. I only knew her for a little while, but I loved her."
"I never doubted it, not from the first time you told us about her. You can love her, Tim. You can miss her. ...and you can even feel an ache because she's gone. You don't have to know her for years to feel that."
"And it's kind of my fault, Dad."
"Why do you say that?"
"The man who killed her...he did it because I got her to take me to the place where she'd witnessed a murder...and he was there. He saw her and knew who she was. He wouldn't have...if I hadn't taken her there. I got her killed."
"No. That's not how it works, Tim."
"That's what Dr. Mallard said, too."
"Who?"
"He's the medical examiner at NCIS. The man who killed Erin, killed a sailor, too."
"Well, he's right. You didn't kill her. If the man saw her with you, it still isn't your fault."
"It's just like before, Dad. I didn't think about the consequences...or I just didn't...I acted like a little kid, wanting to play detective. Why do I keep doing this?"
"Twice in thirty years doesn't make it a trend, Tim."
"I just...I want her back, Dad. Everything I'm doing was so much more bearable with her."
"Tim, it's been thirteen years. Maybe we could do something about it."
"No," Tim said quickly. "No, Dad. I don't want to."
"If it's that hard, Tim..."
"No, it's not. I can deal with it. I have been for years. It's just been hard with Erin...being killed. That's all. Once that...when it fades a little...when it's not so fresh in my mind...it'll be okay." The last thing Tim wanted was to have that risk.
"All right, Tim, but you can call us anytime. Your mother is gone right now, but make sure you call on Sunday. She'll never get over it if she didn't get to talk to you."
"Tell her about Erin for me, please. I don't..."
"Of course, Tim. Remember that it's not your fault."
Tim took a deep breath. "Good-bye."
"Bye, Tim."
Tim hung up and tossed his phone to the side again. He let himself stare up at the ceiling. There was no way he'd ever open up his family to what had been threatened. He'd never told anyone about it because he was too afraid of the consequences.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Thirteen years ago...
"You have two options, here, Tim," the nameless man said.
"What do you mean?" Tim asked. He was afraid of this man who had taken Mr. Orlen's place, rather unexpectedly. The man had not introduced himself but his attitude was threatening to say the least. Tim was easily cowed anyway, but he was now pressing himself back against his chair, trying to get as far away from this man as he could.
"I mean that there are two ways your work with us can go. If you do everything you're supposed to do and make no efforts to get away from us, you'll have Mr. Orlen watching you. If not..."
Tim swallowed. "If not...what?"
"Your family might have to pay the price for your mistakes."
"What do you mean?" Tim whispered.
"I'll let you imagine what I mean, Tim. What's your choice?"
Tim could easily see this man as a killer. He had no trace of kindness in his eyes. He had nothing that marked him as a real human being. Maybe he wasn't, but Tim wouldn't put it past him. He had no idea who he was.
"Mr. Orlen," he said in a very soft voice. "Mr. Orlen."
"Good. This is not a question we'll ask more than once, you understand. This is a one-time option. If you give up the one you've chosen, you'll have to suffer the consequences of the other. ...or rather, your family will have to suffer. Understand?"
Tim nodded. He was afraid he'd cry if he tried to say anything else.
"Then, there's nothing else to talk about."
The man walked out of the room, and Tim was left alone, trying not to start crying again. He wasn't a child. He was seventeen years old and he shouldn't let these people see him crying, no matter how frightening the situation was.
The door opened again a few minutes later.
"Tim? You're ready?"
Tim got to his feet and nodded mutely.
"Good. Come on."
Tim followed Mr. Orlen out of the room...hoping that he never was in the same room with that man again.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Present...
It was Sunday evening, and Gibbs was working on his boat. Coming back from Mexico had been only partially what he wanted, and taking up the boat building again had helped him readjust to being back in DC. Actually, all this stuff with Erin Kendall's murder had loosened things up with his coworkers considerably. It was a distinct relief for him that things were heading back toward normal.
There was a token knock on his door and then it opened. Gibbs didn't look up. He just waited for whoever it was to come to where he was. If it was someone he knew, then the person would know where to find him. If it wasn't, then, Gibbs figured he was in a safe place.
"Jethro, may I interrupt?"
Now, Gibbs looked up and smiled.
"Sure, Duck. Come on down."
Ducky came down the stairs at a relaxed pace and settled himself on a stool before beginning to speak. Gibbs didn't rush him.
"Mother woke up early Saturday morning. She was having one of her moments, thinking that she'd visit a friend who'd been dead for years. After I got her settled again, I received a phone call. ...from Timothy McGee."
That got his attention.
"What did he want?"
"To thank me, he said."
"For what?"
Ducky sighed. "For telling him the truth and for speaking up about that Mr. Orlen making him go back to work so soon after his girlfriend had been killed."
"And?"
"And there's something else he told me that...caught my attention. I don't think he intended to say it."
"What?"
"Two things actually."
Gibbs smiled and set down his chisel.
"What?"
"First, when I said that my job was secure, he said that his was, too...only he didn't sound happy about it."
"And?"
"And right before he hung up, he told me that he thought Erin Kendall could have saved him."
"Saved him from what?"
"I don't know. When I asked what he meant, he hung up, intimating that there'd be no more contact. He'd already implied that he'd get into trouble just for speaking to me."
"From DoD? They're hardly hired thugs, Duck," Gibbs said, skeptically. "I trust politicians as little as the next guy, but..."
"Just because he's working for a reputable agency doesn't mean that the people in charge of him aren't corrupt, or as you say, hired thugs," Ducky said firmly. "There are too many times that corruption occurs even in the most open of places. If Mr. McGee is working for people who have conditioned him not to speak of what they're doing, then, that would conceal the corruption from anyone who might wonder."
Gibbs nodded. "Let's say you're right. Then, what?"
"Then, we should figure out what is going on. Timothy McGee as good as told me he needed saving. If so, and if the one he thought could save him is gone, then perhaps someone else should step in."
"Like us?"
"Yes. Like us."
"You said that he doesn't like questions. He didn't trust us, and he didn't seem inclined to ask us for help."
"But he called me, Jethro. Maybe he can't ask for help."
"Maybe he doesn't want it."
"I think he does...and I think you agree with me," Ducky said.
Gibbs held back a grimace. He did agree with Ducky, but he didn't see how it was possible that they could do anything if Tim wasn't willing to talk and if no one else knew what he was doing. It's not like he could ask DoD about it.
"What do you propose we do?" Gibbs asked.
"Well...I will confess that I'm open to suggestions."
Gibbs smiled.
"How closely do you think someone would be watching for people digging into his past?"
"I couldn't say, although if he felt he needed to call me at three in the morning, that may be indicative of how much scrutiny he thinks he has."
"We don't know much about him, Ducky. He could be paranoid for all we know."
"I would say not, but I can acknowledge the possibility. It's also something we could check."
"True." Gibbs took a breath and thought about it. "If we get Abby digging into it, we'll have to have a reason if they really are watching. I'm not getting Abby in trouble, not for this."
"You were intrigued by this young man, too."
"Yeah, but not at the expense of other people."
"Of course. I'm not advocating that we be foolhardy. I just want to try and understand who he is."
"He works at DARPA, and he lives in Silver Spring."
"Do you have his address in Silver Spring?" Ducky asked.
Gibbs raised an eyebrow. He'd been interested in finding out more, and Tim clearly had more to him than met the eye, but Ducky was far beyond interested. He was concerned, but with what he'd told Gibbs, there seemed to be reason for that.
"I can get it. We still have it from before...but we'll still be hard-pressed to justify our interest since I'm sure you won't be satisfied with just his address."
Ducky smiled. "More than likely not. I may well do some checking myself."
"Be careful, Duck. I don't want to have to bail you out, either."
"I'll be most circumspect, Jethro, but if you have some other ideas, I'll be happy to take them."
"I'll keep that in mind. Let me know what you find."
"Of course."
Ducky left the basement, and Gibbs looked after him for a few minutes. He tried to start working on his boat again, but he couldn't. Ducky's information had burrowed into his brain and got him thinking...which had probably been Ducky's intention from the start. He knew how Gibbs' mind worked.
Giving up on the chisel again, he sat down and took a drink of bourbon. What did they know about Tim? What did they really know? He was fairly young and yet had not worried about getting in trouble with the law. He apparently didn't need to worry about losing his job, either. He had also recently lost a girlfriend. Tony had said that he was at Kate's funeral which had surprised Gibbs. What a coincidence...but Gibbs didn't like coincidences. Tim also apparently disliked the Navy, and it was a deep bitterness that governed his feelings. Based on what Ducky had said, Tim was also worried about being observed which indicated either past observation or else present paranoia.
What did all that add up to? Extrapolating from the facts they knew...meaning moving from known to guessed at... Gibbs took another sip. Tim had been burned in some way by the Navy in the past. Probably a long time ago. That kind of bitterness didn't develop quickly. Betrayal? Maybe. He was very skilled at what he did, whatever it was. Mr. Orlen's quick appearance after Tim's being brought to NCIS indicated value. ...and, if they took Tim's assertion at face value, the people who were in charge of Tim were also going to protect their investment.
The question was how far would they go.
