Chapter 11: Who Am I? Really.
Gibbs went in first and took off Tim's handcuffs. He was awake and staring, but he wasn't trying to kill himself, which was an improvement. He didn't speak to Gibbs, only gave him a glance that indicated how deeply he felt betrayed, and Gibbs didn't speak to him. He just stood and walked out.
Left alone again, Tim stood up and looked around the room in confusion, obviously wondering how he had gotten into that position. He was about to sit down at the table when the door opened once more.
"Sarah! What are you doing here?" Tim ran to her and hugged her tightly. From their view on the other side of the glass, Sarah looked ready to break down in tears. "I'm so glad you are here. I can't get anyone to believe me. It feels like I'm going crazy."
Sarah pulled away. "We have to talk, Tim."
"Why? What's wrong?"
"Please, sit down." She went and sat at the table. After a moment, Tim did the same.
"What is it, Sarah?"
"First of all, I'm not really Sarah. I'm not really your sister. We don't really exist, you and I."
"What?" Tim straightened in his chair and scooted it away, just a little bit.
"That's not exactly true. You are who you think you are, but that only started ten years ago when you went to graduate school."
"Sarah..."
"Don't interrupt me. This is hard enough to explain as it is. Ten years ago, you were someone else, a different person. We..."
Tim wasn't sure where this was going, but he was getting a sudden feeling of dread at the words his sister was speaking. "Stop," he said fiercely.
"No. We found the person you used to be in New York City. We needed a plant, someone to place in NCIS."
"Stop," Tim said more urgently.
"I can't, Tim. Besides, you've known all the time. Remember those dreams you used to tell me?"
"No!"
Sarah continued relentlessly, "You said they were so vivid, almost like memories. Well, they were memories. Those dreams are who you were."
Tim stood up and backed away, knocking over his chair. "I don't know why you're doing this, Sarah, but it's not funny."
Sarah stood as well. "I know it's not funny, Tim. It's tragic, but it's the truth. The night you were taken, around Christmas. The two men who were assigned to watch you saw the perfect opportunity. You were in a park, alone. It was snowing and dark and very few people were there, but just as they were ready to take you, a family cut through the park and talked to you. The father gave you $100 out of pity."
"No! I won't listen to this!" Tim shouted, but he heard it just the same.
"After the family left the park, they shot you with a dart and basically killed who you were."
"Then, who was I?" Tim asked. It was almost a challenge.
"Thomas Elton Gemcity, named for your father who died in a house fire, along with your mother."
Tim slid down the wall in shock. "No," he whispered. "It's not true."
"It is true, Tim. You used to be Thom E. Gemcity," she knelt beside him and spoke earnestly, "but you're not anymore. The memories you have didn't really happen, but you are still Timothy McGee."
Tim had put his clenched fists over his ears, like a child trying to ignore his parents. He was so tense that his entire body shook with the effort of blocking out Sarah's words.
"Tim, please, don't ignore what I'm saying. You need to understand because you actually did what they are accusing you of."
Proving that he still heard her, Tim lifted his head, his face pale, eyes full of shock, "NO!" he shouted as loudly as he could. He pushed Sarah away and stood up, trying to get as far from her as possible. "No! I wouldn't do that! Stop saying that I did! I would remember!"
"No, Tim, you wouldn't," Sarah corrected, raising her voice to be heard above Tim's fearful shouts. "You wouldn't remember anything because they have complete control over you when they want it. They use you and then make you forget."
"No! That's not possible!"
"Do you know why you were handcuffed?"
The shift of topic was so sudden that Tim went silent.
Sarah turned to the window. "Gibbs, please get the techs to show what happened in here."
"Gibbs is watching?" Tim asked quietly.
"Of course, Tim. Where else would he be?"
"And Tony and Ziva?"
"And Abby too, I'd imagine. Everyone wants to understand."
"There's nothing to under–" Tim stopped speaking as he watched himself on the screen; he watched another event of which he had no memory. "How? How are you doing this?"
"It's not me, Tim. There are blocks in your mind, but you can fight them. You just have to acknowledge that they are there!"
"No, no, this is just a, a dream, a nightmare," Tim said, his protests becoming weaker by the minute. He started to shake. "No."
"Yes, Tim," Sarah reached out hesitantly toward him and winced when he backed away from her hand.
Almost hyperventilating from the battle that was going on, as much in his mind as with Sarah, Tim asked, "What have I done then?"
"Anything they asked you to do."
"Like what?"
"You kept them apprised of various cases that touched their interests. You reported on anything that might bring their mission to light."
Still shaking, Tim backed further away from her. "So, I am a traitor?"
"No. You didn't do any of it of your own free will. You were compelled."
Tim suddenly exploded, "You're telling me that I have given information from my cases to help keep someone from prison and you say that I'm not a traitor? I've betrayed everything I believe in!"
"No! You haven't!" Sarah corrected, her voice tinged with desperation. She wasn't sure if everyone else could see what was happening, but she knew that Tim was closing in on a total breakdown. "You were merely the means, the conduit to information."
"So I'm just like another computer?"
"No!"
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On the other side of the glass, six people stood motionless, watching the unfolding scene. Abby had long since thrown herself into Gibbs' arms and was only watching through her fingers, while Gibbs watched, seemingly impassively, but with a storm going on in his blue eyes. Tony and Ziva still stood facing the window, but they had surreptitiously moved close enough that their shoulders were touching, the contact a kind of silent reassurance of mutual support. Ducky and Palmer were frozen a few steps back. In the mysterious ways of gossip, they had heard of Tim's interrogation and come up to ask about it. They had taken only a step or two into the room before the view stopped them in their tracks. If it hadn't been happening in front of their eyes, none of them would have believed it was possible. To see it like this was awful and frightening.
