Chapter 21

Two days later...

Danny walked out of the hospital early in the morning feeling tired and a little bogged down. After two days of trying to deal with Tim...dealing with all these new memories, he was worn out. It was almost harder to see Tim well aware of his own problems rather than the scared kid he'd been before. With a heavy sigh, he sat down on a bench and rubbed his face with his hands.

"Dr. McGee?"

Danny sat up with a start at the voice and looked around, half-expecting to be back in Pennsylvania.

"Oh...Dr. Mallard. You startled me."

"I beg your pardon. May I join you?"

"Of course. Have a seat."

There was a short silence and Danny found himself talking just to fill it.

"We got a hold of Richard yesterday. That's our brother in Afghanistan."

"Yes, Timothy has mentioned him on occasion."

"Probably was only on occasion, though, right?"

"Yes. He preferred to keep details to himself...for obvious reasons. How did your brother take it all?"

"Well, he made clear what he thought," Danny said, smiling. "But then, Richard generally does. He was furious and...in very colorful terms described just what he thought should be done to Ellis Shands for his actions. ...and it proved just how upset Mom is that she didn't lecture him for his language. She's often lamented how much more Richard swears now that he's in the Army. Dad says that if he'd joined the Navy he'd be less vulgar."

Ducky laughed. "I find that hard to believe."

"Me, too...but usually Richard does try to censor himself. He really couldn't believe it. I couldn't either, actually. The whole thing...it's just...disgusting."

Another silence fell. This time, Ducky broke it.

"How is Timothy doing this morning? He seemed quite traumatized when I last saw him."

"He's...better this morning, but I'd be lying if I said it wouldn't take some time for him to deal with all this."

"He'd hardly be human if he didn't. I have read the police file of what happened to his parents, and thinking of the child he was witnessing that...it makes me ill."

"You're not the only one. I still don't know a whole lot of what went on in there, mostly out of respect for Tim. He didn't want to talk about it and I was okay with that. If he showed no interest in finding out the details, then I wouldn't go behind his back."

"A credit to you, Dr. McGee."

"You don't have to call me that. I'm more comfortable with Danny, to be honest."

"And I'm Ducky."

Danny laughed. "Where did that come from?"

"You know? I can't remember for the life of me who first attached that nickname to me. Not everyone calls me that, of course. Some use my real name, Donald, or its various forms. At NCIS, nearly everyone calls me Ducky. I don't find it a problem." He smiled easily.

"Ducky it is, then. What brings you here, Ducky? I thought you'd be working."

"Oh, I had some free time and chose to come to visit. I'm sure the others will be along later. Where are your parents?"

"Sarah got here yesterday and hung on Tim every second. Mom and Dad decided to take her out for breakfast today to get her out of the hospital. Tim's getting another scan just to make sure everything is okay upstairs. I'm just taking a bit of a break." Danny took a breath. "Sometimes...it's hard being Tim's brother."

"Not surprising with his history."

"Now, that hasn't been the case for a long time. The last time we had any trouble was when..."

"What?"

"There was a case a few years ago. Tim thought he might have shot someone."

"Oh, yes. I remember."

"Well...Tim had some real trouble dealing with it at first."

"Really? I knew he'd faced some problems because there was no way of knowing whether or not it had been his gun that had fired the fatal shot."

Danny laughed without humor. "Some problems? Tim didn't sleep through the night for weeks. He didn't always call us, but at first, he did. His old nightmares came back, his old insecurities. Dad finally asked me to talk to him, to try to get him to go back to his shrink. He hadn't been going for a while, not since...well, I think the last time was around when one of his teammates was killed."

"Caitlin Todd."

"Oh. But even before that, he'd been going a lot less, thinking that he was finally in a state where he didn't need that kind of help. ...but when he thought he'd shot that cop. It showed that there were things he just couldn't deal with on his own. You never saw any sign?"

"No. I must confess that none of us knew Timothy was having such trouble."

"He's good at hiding it when he wants to. If he told you all how much trouble he was having, that would have led to questions about why it was so troubling to him."

Ducky nodded. "Leading to questions he wouldn't wish to answer about his past."

Danny nodded in agreement and smiled. "Exactly. You know...it's kind of refreshing talking to someone with your experience, Ducky. Tim's kind of an armchair psychologist when he wants to be, but my being a psychologist has led to a kind of...disconnect in how I see people versus how my family sees people."

"Yes, I can see that. It's always a pleasure to discuss such things...and I must say that I'm pleasantly surprised at the high level of emotional intelligence in your family. You all seem to be very collected and understanding people."

"We've had to be. I went through years of hating Tim when we were younger."

"Because he intruded and brought with him a store of trouble."

"Exactly. Learning to live with him...learning to love him as a brother...once I'd learned that, it was easy dealing with other people."

"You're worried about him."

"Yeah."

"Do you think he can't get through this?"

"I don't know, Ducky." Danny hesitated and then let out his real fear. "I'm afraid that he won't get through it, not because he can't, but because he's so used to carrying this around that he won't know how to let it go...but now he remembers, now he knows what happened...and if he can't learn to let it go...Ducky, it's going to ruin him. That's what scares me. Tim got so far...and now I'm afraid he'll lose it all. And the selfish part of me just doesn't want to deal with it again."

Ducky didn't act surprised nor disgusted. Actually, just the opposite. His expression was sympathetic and understanding.

"I can hardly blame you. It must be difficult."

Danny smiled. "It's been a while since I was the one being analyzed."

"Physician heal thyself."

"Yeah. Thanks for listening, Ducky. I think I needed that."

"I know you did and I'm always more than happy to speak to any member of the McGee family."

"Speaking of which, why don't we go back. Tim's exam should be done by now."

"Lead the way, lad. ...and Danny, may I offer one piece of advice?"

"Sure."

"Don't assume the worst. Timothy is a strong young man. If he has faltered in the face of great struggle, don't assume that he will fall, unable to regain his footing. He has the ability...and I believe he has the desire."

Danny yawned widely. "Maybe when I've had more than a few hours of sleep at a time, I'll be more upbeat."

"Perhaps. Lead the way."

They reached Tim's room but found it empty.

"I guess he's not back yet."

"Oh, hello, is Agent McGee in the bathroom?"

The voice startled the two men and they turned around to see a nurse standing in the doorway.

"No. I thought he was still getting his scan," Danny said.

"He's been finished for about ten minutes or more. He's not in here?"

"No," Danny said but walked to the bathroom and looked inside. It was empty. "No, he's not here."

Danny knew that his worry was showing in his voice as he met Ducky's gaze. Ducky seemed much more calm, but he'd never seen Tim as a teenager suffering from night terrors and wandering around the house. Danny knew the worst that could happen and that frightened him.

Quickly, he strode past the nurse and into the hallway. He looked both ways and then started walking, randomly choosing one direction. Ducky caught up to him.

"Danny, do you think there is cause for this worry?"

"I think there could be and..." Danny paused briefly to look Ducky in the eye. "I learned a long time ago the harm that can come from not thinking there's a problem. I'm not willing to take that chance again. I can't. Not when it's Tim." Then, he kept going. Ducky walked with him through the halls. It seemed like they were walking forever, but Danny knew it was only because he worried. In reality, it was only about five minutes before they saw Tim standing alone, looking through a window. He had a robe on but was obviously only wearing a hospital gown underneath it. He didn't seem upset, merely intent.

"This must be where our friend Shands is being held," Ducky murmured beside him.

Danny looked at the ME in surprise and then followed Ducky's gaze to the armed guards standing by the door. That must be it.

"I think I'm with Richard," he muttered and then walked over to Tim and hugged him tightly.

"Danny!" Tim said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Danny released him with a clout on his shoulder. "What are you? We got to your room and you'd vanished."

Tim flushed. "I...I knew he was somewhere here. I just wanted to see how he was doing." He looked through the window.

Ellis Shands was lying on a bed, handcuffed to it. He had more monitors and machines on him than seemed possible for one human being to need.

"He's still alive," Tim said softly, "but there's no guarantee that he'll survive. I asked one of the doctors. He said that there's only a slight chance he'll ever come out of it. It was a miracle he survived long enough for the EMTs to get him here in the first place."

Something about the way Tim spoke made Danny pause. He'd been ready to start lecturing Tim...much like a parent, but he stopped...and waited. He sensed Ducky standing behind, but he was also keeping silent.

There was a period of silence.

"He got a chance," Tim said, voice still quiet. Then, he swore. Loudly. ...and he turned his back on the man who had forced him to remember his past and walked down the hall.

"Tim?" Danny asked.

Tim kept walking, taking short shallow breaths through his mouth as he strode through the hallways back to his room.

"He got a chance! They never got a chance!" He stopped suddenly, causing Danny to nearly careen into him. Tim swore again (giving Richard a run for his money). "Why does someone like him get a chance? How is that fair?"

"It's not," Danny said. "It's not fair."

Tim shook his head and continued to walk until he got back to his room. He sat down on the bed.

"I tried to save him." Tim took a couple of quick breaths. "I didn't try to save them."

"You were ten years old, Tim," Danny said.

"I tried to save a murdering piece of... and my parents...who never...I just watched them die!"

The strange thing about the conversation was that Tim wasn't crying. He wasn't freaking out. He was angry. Angry at himself. Angry at the situation. ...and probably was hiding from the anguish he must still be feeling.

"Tim!" Danny said, sitting down in front of him. "Tim, you were a kid! Did you have the faintest idea of what to do?"

"I'd learned CPR!"

Danny laughed, although it wasn't because he thought it was funny. "Tim...that wouldn't have helped. Nothing would have helped. From what you've described...your parents didn't have a chance. No matter what you might have tried to do."

"But I didn't try to do anything."

"Doesn't matter."

"Why not?"

"Because it all happened a long time ago...and the choices you made a few days ago don't, in any way, negate the things that happened back then."

"But did they happen?" Tim whispered.

"What?"

Tim looked at Danny and then past him to Ducky.

"Ducky?"

"Yes, Timothy."

"Hi."

Danny heard Ducky chuckle.

"Hello, lad. You're looking better."

"Thanks. Can I ask you something?"

"Certainly."

"Danny...you could probably answer it, too...but this is the kind of question that you...you would probably tell me to knock it off again...but I need to know. So...would you let me ask Ducky about this?"

Danny smiled and got off the bed. "I can do that, I think."

"Thanks." Tim looked at Ducky. "I asked you about repressed memories a couple of weeks ago. Remember?"

"Yes, Timothy, I do," Ducky said, pulling a chair up to the bed where Tim sat, fidgeting a little bit.

"You said that...that there have been cases where people have...have created false memories of the past and believed them."

"Yes."

Tim laughed. "Ducky...that has to be the shortest answer you've ever given."

Ducky smiled gently. "What is it that you're asking, Timothy?"

"Could I have made up what I remembered?" Tim asked, speaking quickly. "Is it possible that I created my memories of what happened to my parents?"

"Tim..." Danny began.

Tim looked at him and shook his head. "No, Danny. This is important." He looked back at Ducky. "Is it possible, Ducky?"

"Possible? Certainly. It's possible that you did...but I find the possibility to be remote. Most of the cases of false memories are those of childhood sexual abuse. There are theories of why it happens. One is that the person has a vague uncomfortable feeling that they can't explain and instead choose to explain via a traumatic encounter."

"Choose?"

"Choose in the sense that they think they remember such an occurrence and generally truly believe it."

"What other reasons are there?"

"The more common is that a therapist whether deliberately or through a genuine belief that they are helping, use techniques such as hypnosis to plant the false memory in their patient's mind and then foster that memory until it becomes something that is wholly believed. There have been some tragic cases of families being torn apart through such things."

"So...why don't you think that I fall into that category?" Tim asked, his voice shaky.

"For the simple reason that there is ample outside evidence to support what you have said. This is not a case of an out-of-the-blue belief in an instance of childhood abuse. This is a case of a documented crime having taken place and the things you have remembered fit in with the evidence in hand. In fact, it would be more likely that, if you were creating a false memory, that your memory would fit in with what others have tried to imprint upon you."

Tim furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"I am speaking of the aborted attempt in your childhood to lead you to the idea that you had shot your own parents accidentally and of the much more recent attempt to force you to speak by means of threatening the safety of others. If it were a case of your trying to create a false memory, it is much more likely that you would have done so to fit with the suggestions given to you. ...something that you never did. I read the police report on your parents' case, and one of the strengths is the continued insistence that you didn't remember and that your reaction to the subtle cajoling of the psychiatrist was instant panic and fear. Yes, you had that possibility in your mind and it probably affected you more than it should have, but you never believed it. You simply feared that it was indeed the case."

"And so...how reliable do you think my memories are now?"

"I think it is possible that they are very reliable. There are people who would disagree with me. Psychologists are still debating this issue of memory, are they not, Danny?"

Danny nodded. "It's true. There's even a group called the False Memory Syndrome Foundation and I think they believe that there's no way of retrieving a childhood memory with any degree of reliability. They've done studies with people and the way that false memories can be implanted in someone's mind. However, there are also studies of people who have suffered from trauma who have repressed the memory for some span of time and then recovered it later on their own. I don't think the debate is going to be resolved any time soon. Basically, the general practice to exercise caution in cases of repressed memories."

Tim nodded silently.

"But you think that my memories are probably real...and accurate?"

"To the degree that a child's memories are accurate, yes," Ducky said. "You were ten years old when your parents were killed."

Tim winced and images the statement conjured up and closed his eyes. Ducky touched his hand.

"And you were, to my knowledge, an intelligent and observant child. What you say you remember is more than likely real. ...but Timothy...why are you asking this now? Wishful thinking?"

Tim managed a weak smile as he opened his eyes. "No, Ducky," he said shaking his head. "...well, maybe that was part of it, but no. That's not why."

"Then, why?" Danny asked.

"Because...I think I might...know who killed my parents."