Author's Note: I don't own any rights to NCIS. I'm just using the playground.
Thanks everybody for all your reviews.
Loverofallthingsmusic: If you're really serious about going into the Navy, remember these tips:
Memorize the rank insignias, the ten duties of a watch stander and the Sailor's Creed before you go in. Talk to your recruiter about those; see if you can get a copy. Don't let him bullshit you, either. He's there to sell the Navy and make it sound easy. It's not.
Don't get angry when one person in your division screws up and causes everyone to be punished for it; it's to teach you that your very life depends on the person standing beside, in front and behind you.
Practice taking two-minute showers in cold water; that's about how it'll be.
Don't lock your knees when standing at attention; it'll make you pass out.
Know how to swim; seriously, they make you tread water without kicking your legs for fifteen minutes with Petty Officers in scuba gear lurking in the pool to pull you under.
Learn to run 1 ½ miles in under 13 minutes.
If you start seeing weird shit out of the corner of your eye, you've probably got sleep deprivation. It'll probably freak you out at first, but you'll get used to it.
Get used to being tired; it won't stop until they send you off to A-School or your first duty station.
Get used to stenciling your name into your underwear and spending hours on end learning to fold your clothes properly. Use starch liberally when ironing.
If you get sick, go see a doctor immediately, don't wait until a Petty Officer actually threatens to escort you to the hospital like I did. That's not tough and impressive, it's stupid and reckless.
Lastly, if I could make it through boot camp with a massive inner ear infection and a mild case of walking pneumonia in the middle of a Chicago winter, anybody can.
Good luck, future shipmate.
Chapter 14
"Can't believe I ever shitted you out…you're nothing but a fucking waste of air! Get that stupid look off your face! I can't stand that noise, shut that little bitch up! I don't care how hungry you are, you'll stay in that closet until you starve if I don't hear you praying! The next time I catch you pulling feathers out of that pillow I'll shove them down your goddamned throat! Serves you right, you retarded fuck." Cullen whimpered, pulling the pillow over his ears. "You want to call Social Services? HERE, CALL THEM. THEY WON'T BELIEVE A LYING LITTLE BASTARD LIKE YOU ANYWAY! Your daddy can't help you anymore, he got blown up by terrorists because he's STUPID, like YOU!"
His mom wouldn't stop yelling at him and he could feel her hand gripping tight over his shoulder. "Stupid, fucking shit-head, you call this a clean knife? Huh? You think I'm gonna even touch food with a filthy fucking blade? You're going to clean this with a toothbrush next time, not that lazy, half-assed wiping with a dirty washcloth, either. Look how filthy this is! What if I got an infection from cutting myself? It would be all your fault! You're useless!" The knife slashed his back, twice. He screamed.
"Whoa, easy. You're all right, it's just a nightmare," Gibbs whispered, rocking Cullen in his lap. "You're okay now, safe."
"Daddy?" Kevin sat up in bed next to them.
"I'm Agent Gibbs, remember?"
"Oh."
"Cullen wake you up?"
Kevin nodded. "How come you're not mad at him for waking you up?"
Gibbs looked down at the younger boy. "Should I be?"
"Dunno."
"I'll bet you're used to people being mad at you."
Kevin shrugged. "Most times. It's 'cause I have a bad soul. Mom always says that we're nothing but evil demons she never wanted and that we're gonna go to Hell."
"That's not true, you know."
"You don't even know us. Nobody does."
Gibbs shook his head. "Y'know, I look at people and I can tell if they're good guys or bad guys. It's my job to be able to see the difference. When I look at you and Cullen, I see two boys who haven't even grown up yet, but they have a lot of scary things they have to fight. Not only that, but they even protect their sister from all the bad stuff so that she doesn't have to have nightmares like they do."
"Really?"
"Yup."
"How come we gotta fight in the first place?" Kevin grumbled, crossing his arms and glaring at the bedroom window. "It's not fair, and we aren't even in the Navy like Dad."
"Sometimes, that's just how life works out. But, you're right. It's not fair."
"So, how come it happens?"
"To be honest, Kevin…." Gibbs let out a yawn. "I don't have an answer for that."
Kevin nodded seriously, then scrambled out of the bed and ran for the door. "Sorry, Mr. Gibbs, but I gotta pee really bad."
Gibbs laughed and shook his head, gently putting Cullen back down under the covers. "You're both good kids," he whispered. "Don't forget that."
"Morning, Tim." Dr. Clarke said, nodding as the agent sat down on the couch. "I take it you're ready to talk about the shooting now."
"Yeah."
Dr. Clarke sat across from Agent McGee and waited.
"I can't stop thinking about what happened. It's hard to…think up the right words to…how to describe it."
"That's okay. I can imagine it's difficult to take someone's life, even when you're given no other choice."
"I didn't have to shoot her, did I?" he asked.
"Do you feel you did everything you could to diffuse the situation?"
"I tried to get her to stop, you know? I did. But…she just…she had such a….Her eyes were…." He sighed. "I'm not explaining this right, am I?"
"What was her state of mind while you were talking to her?"
"It was…." He looked around the room, searching for a proper word. "She was all…wrong somehow."
"How?"
"She was going to shoot her son!" Tim shouted, getting to his feet. He started pacing, agitated. "What kind of mother…She was like a rabid….I can't even think of her as a human being anymore!"
"Can you explain why that is?"
"No. I can't." Tim sat down again and slouched back. "I'm trying to…but…I mean, she was my neighbor…I thought she was nice when I met her, and now…Did I screw up?"
"I get the feeling that there's more to that question. Am I right? It's not just the fact that you shot Mrs. Turi, or her insanity."
"Why didn't I know about this sooner? I could've called child welfare services or the police, or done something! I live one floor above them! Why didn't I notice them? I'm a damn federal agent, I'm supposed to protect people!"
Dr. Clarke nodded. "Tim, listen to me. This is not your fault. From what Dr. Wexler read in her psychological treatment records, Marianne Turi was very good at hiding her condition from the outside world. A lot of people with High Functioning Borderline Personality Disorder can be great actors. They know how to hide what they're doing when they know if it's illegal or socially unacceptable. It's one of the dominating traits of the disease."
"I still should've noticed something was wrong!" Tim insisted. "And now…I…I don't know if…The two younger kids love me, and I don't understand why. I shot their mom. I know Cullen probably hates me, and I can understand that, but…"
"Ashlynn and Kevin are hero worshiping you. You're strong, you saved their big brother from being killed, and you helped them get away from a terrifying home. They're young enough that they don't fully understand what that meant you had to."
Tim shook his head. "I have nightmares about it, though. Mrs. Turi's face is always so…twisted. It's like she…was getting off on the idea of shooting me. It always ends with her shooting Cullen and then me 'cause I'm too scared to move. I try so hard to stop her, but then I look at her eyes and I'm…I'm looking at something…empty and demonic."
The psychologist patted Tim's shoulder. "That's a typical reaction to a traumatic event, but you can't let it dominate your thinking. When you start trying to pick apart everything you did, you'll be consumed by it. That's how agents begin to burn out. They focus too much on what they could have done, or hadn't done, and it becomes an obsession."
"Which is why we have mandatory counseling sessions like this, right?"
Dr. Clarke smiled. "You got it."
"So…what happens next?"
"There's going to be maybe a month of periodic check-ins to see how you're doing. If you feel you need more sessions after that, we can work out a schedule that won't interfere with your duties."
"So, I can still go out in the field?"
"Maybe after two or three weeks of leave. Director Vance wants you to decompress, and suggested that you take a vacation."
Tim thought about it. "Yeah, I do kind of feel like I need my space for a while."
"Come back and see me when your vacation's over and we'll see if you're fit for field duty."
"Sounds good."
Dr. Clarke shook Agent McGee's hand. "Hope you feel better soon."
"Thanks."
"Tim."
"Yeah?"
"Mrs. Turi's mental illness is what caused her to do what she did. None of it was your fault. Remember that. Chant it in the shower or write it out a hundred times every single day if you have to, but get that into your head now. It'll help you keep your perspective."