Chapter 20

Why was it that NCIS seemed like a foreign country? Why did he feel like an invader?

Because I'm a drug addict and drug addicts are supposed to be arrested by the people who work here...not employed by them.

With a deep breath, Tim opened the door and walked in. The guard checking IDs treated him much the same as he always did...but did he look at him a little more closely? He smiled and walked on by. He could take the elevator but...no, he didn't want to take the elevator. He didn't want to risk riding up with a normal person, someone who might look at him with the same disgust he felt himself. He mounted the stairs, one foot in front of the other, slowly...ever so slowly.

Tony and Ziva were already there when he reached the bullpen, although Ziva looked as though she had just arrived herself. Tim tried to smile at them, but the muscles controlling those movements appeared to be malfunctioning.

"Morning," he said, not meeting their eyes. "Have you seen Gibbs?"

"He's upstairs."

"With Vance?"

"Yeah. Probably. You all right, Probie?"

"No," Tim said softly and then walked to the stairs. He began to climb them, feeling as though everyone in the bullpen was staring at him, seeing through his immaculate suit to the addict hidden beneath it. He had dressed so carefully this morning and then wondered if he was simply trying to play a part that didn't belong to him...not anymore...and a part that should never have belonged to him. He didn't have the courage to look and see if anyone beyond Tony and Ziva truly was staring at him. He just continued up the stairs and then walked to Vance's office.

I miss Cynthia, he thought randomly as he looked at the assistant sitting in Cynthia's place. He didn't understand why Jenny's departure had required Cynthia's as well...or perhaps it was that Cynthia didn't want to work here without Jenny.

"You can go right on in, Agent McGee."

Tim nodded mutely and continued walking. He opened the door and stepped into the office. Vance was sitting at his desk, Gibbs on a chair in front of it. Vance had next to no expression on his face.

"Have a seat, Agent McGee."

"Yes, sir." Tim sat down, wanting nothing more than to hide his face, to run away and pretend this horrible life he was currently living didn't exist. The silence stretched out painfully. To Tim it felt like hours, although in reality it was less than a minute.

"Anything you'd like to say, Agent McGee?"

So, you're forcing me to say it. Thanks a lot, Tim thought, but when he started to speak, his voice was anything but sarcastic or confrontational. It was soft, hesitating...full of shame.

"I've been taking drugs, Director Vance...since I was seventeen years old, and I...I'm currently addicted to benzodiazepines, specifically temazepam. I..." Tim swallowed. "...I've just started a program to get me off them. It will take at least six months, probably longer."

There was another interminable silence.

"I...I can't think of anything else to say, Director."

"No apology?"

Tim met his eyes. "Would it really help?" he asked.

Suddenly, he saw the sympathy in Vance's eyes.

"No, probably not," he admitted. "I don't want to fire you, Agent McGee."

"I don't want to lose my job, sir," Tim said. He wasn't sure why he could speak like this to Vance. He didn't think he could have if Jenny were still in charge. Of course, Vance had never talked him into quitting.

"Well, then, at least, we agree on something."

Tim tried to smile again, but the most he could manage was a grimace.

"What's going to happen, sir?"

"That depends on you, McGee."

"In what respect?"

"Agent Gibbs has told me that you are willingly participating in this program."

"Yes, sir."

"So, you want to get clean."

"Yes."

"Do you think you're ready to go back to work?"

Tim opened his mouth to answer but no words came out. The reason for that was simple: he didn't know. As a field agent? That was easy.

"No," he said. "I can barely get through a day when all I'm doing is sitting around. I... Right now, I don't think I could handle it. I don't want to...put anyone in danger."

"What about before?"

Gibbs stirred slightly, but he didn't speak.

"Before, sir?"

"Yes, Agent McGee. Before." Vance's tone became more stern. "You have been using drugs for the duration of your employ at NCIS. You have more than likely been addicted during a significant period. Do you deny that?"

"No, sir."

"Then, did you not ever worry about the possibility before your exposure?"

Tim was silent for a long moment and, although he sensed Gibbs getting ready to intervene, he found he didn't want that...so he spoke.

"Yes, sir. I did...and I did nothing about it." Tim swallowed, trying to keep the courage that had goaded him into speech. "There were days, in the middle of my periods of drug use when I thought that perhaps what I was doing might be dangerous. I did nothing. Once I looked up some information but because I found little about my personal situation, I chose to believe that it was not a problem. Now, looking back, I can see that I was just avoiding a confrontation with what I knew was wrong. I deliberately hid my drug use, my dependency. I never told a soul and I knew that I couldn't and keep my job. I know how long it stays in my bloodstream and I know how often the random drug testing comes up...and I took steps to be sure that there was nothing in my system...so that I didn't get caught. I was knowingly risking the lives of my friends." Tim didn't know what else to say; so he stopped speaking. Vance's expression didn't change.

"We were never in danger," Gibbs said, speaking for the first time.

Vance didn't appear to have heard him at all. He was looking at Tim.

"Wait outside for a few minutes, please, Agent McGee."

Tim nodded mutely and stood without hesitation. He opened the door and walked out to where he remembered sitting after shooting Benedict. He didn't really notice the assistant staring at him. In fact, the world boiled down to the seat upon which he was sitting. Slowly, his left hand moved, almost of its own accord, over to the sleeve covering his right arm. Unconsciously, he slipped a finger beneath it and began to trace the lacerations. He could feel them. His mind was blank, stunned into inactivity. He couldn't do anything but wait, and thinking would require more than he had to give at the moment.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"What are you going to do, Leon?" Gibbs asked.

Vance smiled humorlessly. "What do you expect me to do, Jethro?"

"You're not answering my question."

"I'm surprised you're even asking. Don't you generally attempt to dictate my decisions?"

"Only when I know what you want to do already."

Vance stood and walked to the window. "It's a nice view, both literally and symbolically, but do you know that I've never wanted this job less than I do right now?"

"I never wanted it at all."

"I'm beginning to question my eagerness for it."

"Only now?"

"Now when I have a situation like this."

"So, what are you going to do?"

"You realize that he only got this job under false pretenses."

"You realize that he kept this job because he's so good at it?"

"He has lied about it from the beginning."

"And can you imagine how much better he'll be when he's clean?"

"From E.O. 12564, 'Persons who use illegal drugs are not suitable for Federal employment.'"

"That's not all that order says. I can't quote it, but isn't there a whole bunch of legalese about programs for supporting an employee who is found to be using drugs? And that a person who is in a rehabilitation program may even return to work if it is determined that he has the ability and will not endanger lives? And doesn't it even specifically state that drug use does not have to be reported to the Attorney General for prosecution?"

"Been doing your homework, I see."

"I can read official documents if the occasion calls for it. So, what are you going to do...Director?"

"There's really only one thing I can do, Agent Gibbs."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Shouldn't we be up there, too?" Abby asked in a whisper. "Giving evidence or something?"

"Evidence of what? That we had no idea McGee was using drugs? How will that help?" Ziva asked.

"Or that we've seen him break down a few times? I'm sure that will go over with Vance really well," Tony said sarcastically.

"We should be there for Tim," Abby said finally. "He shouldn't have to do this alone."

"Gibbs is up there."

"No offense to my silver-haired fox, but Gibbs isn't exactly the most comforting person."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Abby, you're the one he is comforting to."

"Yes, well, I'm not up there, am I. Tim is." Abby stuck out her tongue.

The elevator doors opened and Ducky walked out. He paused at the sight of the three huddled together.

"Waiting for the verdict, are we?" he asked.

"You, too?"

"More or less."

"What does that mean, Ducky?"

"Vance requested my presence, as an expert."

"In forensic psychology?"

"I suppose he wants to keep this in house."

"Tell Vance that Tim is vital to NCIS," Abby said.

"I don't believe that is to be my function. Director Vance is already well aware of Timothy's position at NCIS. He is, after all, the one who gave Timothy the orders to break through those complex encryptions."

"Then, he should know that Tim is vital to us!"

Ducky's mouth twitched in what might have been a smile. "Abigail, I think you fear for nothing. This meeting is more than likely the least of Timothy's problems."

Abby visibly wilted.

"Don't worry, my dear. All will be well." He mounted the steps and disappeared into Vance's office.

"Does Ducky know, you think?" Tony asked.

"He knows everything else," Ziva said.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim sat alone. Vance's assistant had excused himself a few minutes before, perhaps because of Tim's blank stare. It was probably unnerving. Tim had only vaguely acknowledged Ducky when he'd walked past, although he was sure he had seen a sympathetic expression. Whether that was a good sign or a bad one, Tim didn't know, but he didn't want to think about it, didn't want to think of the possibility that his career, his life as he had known it, was over.

The door opened.

"Timothy?"

Tim looked up.

"Yes, Ducky?"

"Could you join us, please?"

Tim swallowed and nodded. He stood and once again entered the office. Vance and Gibbs were now sitting at the table. Ducky joined them and indicated that Tim should sit also.

"Have a seat, Agent McGee," Vance said.

Tim sat without speaking.

"I have come to a decision regarding your employment here."

There was only one reason that Tim could think of for the intense formalities, for Gibbs' solemn expression. "You're firing me, aren't you."