CHAPTER NINE
"Tim? Tim, can you hear me? C'mon Tim, open your eyes. You can do it…"
The voice seemed to come from out a dense fog. Tim couldn't see anything and the words were muffled. They wanted him to wake up. Why? Why should he wake up? He was happy where he was.
"Tim, we need you to open your eyes. That's it…c'mon…"
Shut… up, he thought. It was difficult to form a complete thought. The words seem to float away before he could string them together. He knew what he wanted to say, but it was so hard. So, he wouldn't. He shut down his thoughts and drifted away, back into the comforting darkness.
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Dr. DeKay frowned in frustration. He was sure Tim had started to respond. It was if his consciousness was just below the surface struggling to break through, but then he lost him. He really thought Tim would have awakened sooner than this. They had been bringing him out of the coma for days now. He was no longer getting any of the barbiturates and most of it should have worked its way out of his system. Tim should be awake. This worried him. People thought bringing someone out of chemically induced coma was a simple thing. It was anything but. Some patients woke quickly and easily. Others never did. He feared this last. He had no idea what the rabies virus might have done to McGee's brain. Even if Tim awoke soon, it would take time to assess any damage he might have sustained. It was all down to time.
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"Tim, honey? It's me, Mom. Can you hear me? I need you to wake up, sweetheart."
This was a new voice. It seemed familiar to McGee but he couldn't quite figure out who it was. Again, the words were muffled and indistinct. Yet, unlike the other voice, he was instinctively drawn to this one. It seemed comforting somehow. His mind associated it with warmth and safety. He moved towards it.
"Please, Tim, wake up. We're all here waiting for you. Please…"
The voice continued to plead with him. He wanted to respond, yearned to, but the fog just wouldn't lift. He couldn't find his way. He wanted to call out, let the voice know he was here, but nothing happened. He was afraid it would leave before he could find it.
"Just open your eyes, Tim. C'mon sweetheart, you can do it. Please…do it for me…"
Open your eyes. That's what the voice said. Open your eyes. He could do that. Maybe. Tim concentrated hard, harder than he'd ever concentrated before in his life. In the background, he could still hear the voice calling him. Then slowly, ever so slowly, a small band of light appeared at the bottom of his vision. He struggled and gradually the band became wider and wider. Instead of a dark fog, he now saw a light one. There were some blurred images hovering above him. He slowly blinked.
"That's it Tim! That's it! Come on, open your eyes! You're doing great."
Tim tried to focus on the blur above him. It just wouldn't come clear. The voice was more distinct now and the name of the speaker just barely out of reach. But, he recognized it. He knew he did. He blinked a few more times and frowned. The image cleared some. He suddenly knew who it was.
"Mom?" His voice was faint, barely a whisper. They had removed the respirator tube the day before, but his throat would remain sore for some time to come.
He heard a sob. "Oh yes, Tim! It's me! It's Mom!" Tim could just make out his mother's features. She looked older and her cheeks were wet. She had his hand firmly clenched in her own. "Can you understand me?"
He moved his head slightly. It seemed to take so much effort. There were some other shapes behind his mother. He couldn't seem to focus on them. Didn't really want to try. He closed his eyes again and slept.
The next time he awoke, it was quiet in his room. No one was calling to him. The only thing he heard was the soft beep of a machine nearby. He opened his eyes. It was much easier this time. After a few moments, things began to take shape. The room was softly illuminated by some lights near the head of his bed.
Tim frowned trying to remember why he was here. He figured out he was in a hospital at least. Had he been in an accident? He ran his gaze down his body. He didn't see any casts or bandages. Okay, not an accident. An illness perhaps? He considered this. That seemed more plausible. He felt so weak. He tried to lift his arm. It was simply too heavy for him to budge. He didn't like that. He tried to move his legs. Same thing. He could feel them, but he could barely move them. The monitor's beep began to speed up.
"Tim?" Tim froze. He hadn't seen anyone in the room. He tried to turn his head. It took almost all his strength. He gasped and gave up. A second later, a form materialized by his bed. "Tim? Can you hear me?"
Tim stared at the man. He looked familiar but again, Tim was having trouble placing him.
"Tim, it's me. Gibbs."
Tim blinked. Gibbs? Hmm. The name rang a bell. Sort of.
"Leroy Jethro Gibbs? Your boss? NCIS?"
Tim's frowned deepened. It was like the man was speaking in code. NCIS?
The man, Gibbs, sighed, then smiled. "It's okay, Tim. It'll come."
It will come. Tim closed his eyes. Right now, he was content to just let things go. It was too hard to think. It made his head hurt. It was easier to reenter the fog.
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Gibbs shook his head as Tim closed his eyes again shutting out the world. When Tim had recognized his mother, everyone had been ecstatic. That had been two days ago. Tonight, McGee looked completely blank when Gibbs mentioned his own name and NCIS. Dr. DeKay was worried about how long it was taking McGee to return to full consciousness and feared there might be some brain damage. He didn't want Tim to be alone so Tim's family and NCIS colleagues all volunteered to take shifts. At first Tim's father protested.
"I'm not sure I want any of you clowns around my son," growled the admiral glaring at Gibbs with steely eyes. The rest of the team stood nearby, looking uncomfortable and more than a little guilty. "It's because of you people my son is in the predicament."
Gibbs wouldn't back down. "Sir, mistakes were made, but Tim is very important to us. I know it may not seem that way to you, but he is a crucial member of our team. We really want to help. We can take the night shifts."
For awhile Gibbs didn't think Admiral McGee would yield. The black looks made it all too clear how the he felt about NCIS. He blamed Gibbs and his team for Tim's condition, and rightly so. But, that didn't mean the team didn't care despite how it might have appeared. If anything, this situation made it all too clear how much Tim really did mean to each of them.
Penny glanced at her son, who just continued to glower at Gibbs. His hostility was palpable. Like her son, Penny did blame Gibbs and the others. How could she not? From what she'd learned, they screwed up and that was unforgiveable. But, she also understood how much NCIS meant to Tim. She'd had a number of long conversations with her grandson about his job. He came alive when he described some especially intriguing case, the excitement of searching for clues, the thrill of the fieldwork; he loved it all. Despite what Michael thought about NCIS, it had been good for Tim.
She knew something about each of his teammates and how they were important to Tim. He might complain about Tony's pranks or Abby's thoughtlessness, but he loved them like you love any family, warts and all. Even Gibbs. Gibbs was a lot like Michael, but unlike her son, Gibbs expected Tim succeed. Nothing Tim did ever was quite good enough for his father. NCIS finally gave him a place where his efforts meant something. He was valued for himself, not for his father or his grandfather.
It didn't take a psychologist to see the team was upset. Abby, especially, looked so dejected that Penny felt her resistance weaken. Tim still carried a bit of torch for the irrepressible forensics scientist, although Penny had gathered things were a bit rocky in that department. Tim wouldn't really talk about it, but Penny could read him better than anyone. She felt his pain whenever he mentioned Ms. Sciuto.
Penny believed Tim would be all right. She had to. And if he recovered and decided to continue at NCIS, she wasn't going to stand between him and his team.
"All right, Agent Gibbs," she said feeling her son stiffen. "You and your team can take the night shift. Starting at 10 pm until say, 8. Does that work for you?"
"Mother," growled Admiral McGee turning his furious gaze on her.
"Michael," interrupted Penny, raising her hand to stop him. "I know how you feel about NCIS, but these are Tim's friends. He works with them every day and under some very dangerous circumstances. There is a bond that forms in situations like that. You know that. They want to help, to make amends. You need to let them."
"Like hell I do!" snarled the admiral, his eyes blazing. He would have continued his tirade, but Sarah gently touched his arm.
"Dad," she said softly. It was the first thing she had said all day. "Let them help. I know they screwed up, but I've seen how much NCIS means to Tim. Maybe they can help."
Suddenly, Admiral McGee seemed to deflate. He looked at the group gathered before him. He wanted to throw them all out on their butts, and if he had anything to say about it, Tim would never return to NCIS. He'd find him some position more suited to his abilities. What good was it to be an admiral if you couldn't pull some strings? However, they had to get Tim past this first. One thing was certain. He would make sure the internal investigation was carried out, and that this fiasco wasn't swept under the rug.
He sighed. "All right. You can take the night shift. But if Tim wakes up, I expect you to call me immediately. Do you understand, Special Agent Gibbs?"
"Yes, sir."
That had been two nights ago. Tony kept watch last night but nothing happened. After Tim had woken up enough to recognize his mother, everyone hoped he would soon come fully awake. Until this brief moment of consciousness and confusion, there had been no further response. Gibbs considered calling the admiral but decided against it. If Tim woke up again, he'd call, otherwise what was the point?
With a weary sigh, Gibbs settled himself back in his seat. He desperately wished he could do something to bring Tim out of it.
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The third time Tim resurfaced, it was to the sound of singing. For a moment, he couldn't figure out what it was. It was something about cannibals swinging on a vine. Tim struggled to make out the words.
Once upon a time there were ten little cannibals swinging on a vine, one tried to pat a big wild cat and then there were nine…
His lips gently curled. I know that song! The singer continued in a soft voice.
One of the nine drank turpentine, then there were eight…
Tim wanted to sing too. He used to sing it all the time when he was little. He struggled to make the words, but they wouldn't come.
Then one more fell dead on the floor and seven was their fate…
Tim's frustration grew. He forced his eyes open. A dark haired girl was sitting in the chair near his bed. She paused from time to time to wipe her eyes, but she continued with her song.
One went in politics, then there were only…
"Six."
The girl froze, then slowly turned her gaze to meet his. "Tim?" She leaned closer, but her actions were tentative, as if she feared she might scare him off. "Tim? It's me, Sarah. Do you know me?" Her voice quavered.
Tim stared hard at her. If he could remember the song, why couldn't he remember her? "The song…" he rasped.
"The Cannibal Song? You taught it to me, Tim. Don't you remember? We thought it was so funny when we were kids. It was one of your favorites."
"Five…took…a…dive…" It took all his strength to get those words out.
Sarah laughed, tears streaming down her face. "Yes!" She quickly resumed the song.
One went to Singapore, then there were only
"Four." Tim smiled. A real smile this time. He knew who she was. "Sarah."
"Oh Tim!" Sarah sobbed and threw herself across her brother's chest. "You remember! You're alive and you remember!"
Tim wanted to wrap his arms around his sister, but his arms still felt like leaden weights. They were just too hard to move. But, she was right. He did remember her.
Sarah sat back, wiping the tears on her sleeve. "Do you remember what happened? Why you're here?"
Tim frowned. This wasn't so easy. He looked at her, his confusion evident.
"Rabies, Tim. You have rabies. Don't you remember?"
He tried. He really did, but it made his head begin to throb. Rabies? That seemed like an odd thing to get. Rabies was a fatal disease, wasn't it? His eyes suddenly widened. "Dying?"
"Oh no, Tim!" cried Sarah, fresh tears streaming down her face. "You're going to live!"
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A/N: You guys have all been really great in encouraging me with this story. It really helps. The next update may take a couple of days as I'll be gone. I promise I won't make you wait too long. Thanks.
