Chapter 20: Homeward Bound

"I don't want to use a walker," Tim grumbled. "That's for old people." He knew he was being childish, but he still didn't want it.

Christopher, the physical therapist, who had taken great pains to say that his name was Christopher, not Chris or Topher or any other possible shortened form, chuckled, unoffended. "No, it's for people who need it, Tim...and you do."

Tim grimaced.

"Do you know how much faster you'll be able to leave if you work with this now? You'll be able to walk and build your leg muscle much more quickly while walking than you will if you simply sit around."

Tim looked at the walker in distaste, but he knew Christopher was right...like usual. Even with the exercises he'd been doing, there was still more he needed to do before he could leave. Christmas Eve was in two days...and he would still be in the hospital. His parents were driving down the next morning to celebrate Christmas with him. Tim sighed and rubbed at the scruff on his head. His hair was finally growing back. He was eating again, albeit sparingly.

"Well?" Christopher prompted. "It's not permanent, Tim. You could almost not use it now, but you still need the help...and the exercise."

"Isn't there anything else I could use?"

"Why?"

Because I don't want to invite ridicule, Tim thought. However, considering everything that had happened, how he looked, what he'd gone through, it seemed silly to act like he had much in the way of pride or dignity left...besides, no one had ridiculed him. Not once. He looked at the walker again and finally nodded.

"Okay." He pushed himself off the bed, wondering as he did so if he'd ever get rid of this lingering fatigue. "I'll settle for staying awake on Christmas Eve," he muttered.

"What was that?"

"Nothing." Tim walked the two steps and grabbed the walker firmly and gave a sardonic grin. "Race you to the end of the hallway."

"Go for it, Tim."

For the next hour, Tim walked around the Cancer Institute. For about the first time, he felt well enough to see some of the other patients. Many of them were little kids, sick like him, blad like him. Ziva and Tony came about 45 minutes into his trek when his energy was flagging. They found him leaning heavily on the walker, bending over so that a little girl could glue a red puff ball onto his face mask.

"Is it on?" he asked, not noticing his teammates.

"Needs to be harder," she said and pushed hard on his nose. "There!"

"Now, am I Rudolph?" Tim asked.

"You don't have any antlers, Probie!" Tony said, loudly. "We'll have to do something about that." He looked at Ziva. "Rudolph is–"

"The reindeer with the big red glowing nose," Ziva finished quickly. "I have been here for over three years, Tony. I know."

"Hey...guys?" Tim straightened, gripping the walker tightly. "Shouldn't you be at work?"

"No," Tony said. He turned his attention to the little girl. "Hey, I'm Tony."

"This is Tonya," Tim said.

"I'm seven!" she announced.

"And you're rockin' the bald look," Tony said, grinning.

"My daddy says that, too. He told me that it was a good thing all my hair fell out because my eyes are so beautiful that no one can get distracted." She did have beautiful eyes, large and dark brown.

"She is too young for you, Tony," Ziva said grinning. "Your eyes are very lovely. Are you here for Christmas?"

She nodded solemnly. "Yes. Mommy and Daddy wanted me to go home with them, but I wanted to stay."

"You wanted to stay?" Tim asked, momentarily forgetting his red nose. "I wish I could go home for Christmas."

Tonya smiled. "Well, it's going to be my last Christmas and I wanted to spend it here...like I did the last two years."

"Your last?" Ziva asked, growing serious.

"Uh-huh," Tonya said, sounding singularly unconcerned. "They looked in my head last week and the tumor..." she paused and looked earnestly at Tony and Ziva. She beckoned them to kneel down. Then, she glanced at Tim. "I'll bet you know this already, but they might not." Tim swallowed and smiled. "A tumor is a big lump of bad stuff that grows in your body in places. Mine is in my head. They took it out once...see? Right here." She pointed to a scar. "But it came back. They tried a bunch of things and I got really sick. Last week, they went and looked in my head again, but it's too big. It's not going to go away this time. It's just getting bigger and bigger. So, after Christmas, I'm going to go home and say good-bye to everyone and..." She smiled again, her face lighting up. "...and I'm going to go to Disneyworld!"

"Aren't you scared?" Tim asked.

"I was. The first time I had to get sick I was scared, but my daddy told me a big secret. You want to hear it?" She gestured for Tim to come closer. He knelt on the ground, wondering if he'd be able to get back up. "If you're not sick you can't hear the secret," she said to Tony and Ziva.

"Why not?" Tony asked.

"Because you don't need it. This is for us who need it." Then, she leaned over conspiratorily and whispered in Tim's ear. "All the good little girls automatically go to heaven. So I don't have to be sad or scared."

"What about me?" Tim whispered back.

She smiled and touched the puff ball. "I'll tell God to let you in special."

"Wow, you'd do that for me?" Tim asked, feeling a lot more touched than he had expected.

"If you find some antlers," she said and laughed.

"I will..."

"Tonya! What are you doing out here?" A frazzled-looking young woman came hurrying down the hall and stopped when she saw Tim, the nature of his illness very much obvious.

"Just talking, Mommy."

"I'll find some antlers and I'll show you. I promise," Tim said. He experimentally flexed his muscles to try and regain his feet, but his arms trembled enough that he decided not to try.

"Great!"

"Daddy's in your room, dearest. He has something to show you."

"What? What?" Tonya asked, nearly jumping up and down in her excitement.

"You'll have to go back and see."

"Okay! Bye, Tim! Merry Christmas! Don't forget your antlers!"

"I won't. Merry Christmas, Tonya."

Tonya took off down the hallway, not running, but walking quickly.

"I'm Silvia, Tonya's mother." She held out her hand. When Tim reached out to take it, his arm was shaking. "Oh, dear. Can you get up?"

Tim flushed. "Probably not. I shouldn't have gone down in the first place."

"Let me help," she said and grasped his arms. "Wow. You're skin and bone, aren't you? You just getting started?"

Tony answered. "No, he's on the other end. Believe me. This is an improvement."

"Ah," she said nodding in sympathy as she helped Tim to his feet. "You must have had it rough. I don't think I've seen you around. You been here long?"

"Nearly six months," Tim admitted.

"Really. How is that possible? I thought I knew all the patients here at least by face. Tonya tends to introduce herself to everyone."

"I wasn't exactly out and about."

"Must have been bad."

Tonya still in his mind, and conscious that he was speaking to a mother who would soon be mourning the loss of her daughter, Tim shrugged. "It wasn't that bad."

"Wasn't bad?" Tony echoed disbelievingly. "Probie here got pneumonia, a pulmonary edema and was in a coma for two months."

"In addition to chemo? That is rough."

"Could have been worse," Tim said, feeling embarrassed by the attention.

Silvia just shook her head. "I'm sure it could have been...and you would probably be dead rather than speaking to me right now." Her eyes glistened a little. "Don't denigrate your own experiences. No cancer is easy...even if you survive it."

"No, it's not."

"Do you need help back?"

Tim shook his head. "No. If I begin to wilt, I'll ask..." Tim looked at Tony. "...Ziva to carry me the rest of the way."

Tony punched him...very lightly. "With how light you are, Probie, I'll bet Tonya could carry you."

"It was nice to meet you, Silvia...and Tonya, as well," Tim said.

"Likewise. Get well, and merry Christmas." Then, she walked down the hall.

"Are you going to make it, McGee?" Ziva asked, seriously.

"We'll see," Tim said and set off.

He did make it...most of the way. They met up with Christopher who berated Tim for trying to run himself into the ground on his first day with the walker. He firmly told Tim to wait while he got a wheelchair. He then took Tim back to his room and told him to rest for the remainder of the day. Tim agreed, and told Tony and Ziva to make sure they found him some antlers. Then, he slept.

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

"Tim, are you sure about this?" Sarah asked, surprised at Tim's attire.

It was Christmas Eve. Tim was wearing regular clothes that looked as though they'd fall off him. On his face was the mask with the red puff ball on it...capping it all was a pair of antlers on his head. He hadn't been able to get them to stay. They kept flopping around without hair to anchor them in place; so he had taken a roll of tape and fastened them to his head. For once, he didn't seem to care about how silly he looked.

"Hey, you don't have to come," Tim said. He was settled in the wheelchair. His plan for the evening would take up a lot of energy as it was. He couldn't try and walk all around. "I'll do it by myself."

"That's not what I meant, Rudolph. I meant are you ready for this?"

"Of course," Tim said. He had cleared it with the hospital staff first, of course, and they had been excited at the prospect. He had checked with Dr. Scott, with Christopher and he had forced everyone else to join in. He was excited. He was happy. He still looked thin as a rail and about as sturdy, but he seemed more...alive than he had in a long time.

So...when they set off singing merrily, no one could find it in them to deny Tim his Christmas Eve celebration. As a large traveling troupe, they went off through the hospital, singing Christmas carols to anyone who would listen. Tim made sure to stop by the nurses' station and sing "Ding Dong Merrily on High" which got a laugh. He went to Tonya's room and sang "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" and a few others by request. The singing wasn't perfect by any means. In many cases it wasn't even good, but the heart that was in it made up for the flaws. Tim held out for just over an hour before his energy flagged. Finally, he had to admit that he was done and go back to his room. Naomi helped him remove the taped antlers from his head. Everyone chatted for a little while but Tim's obvious exhaustion soon drove them out...except for his family.

"That was fun, wasn't it?" Tim asked with a large yawn.

"It was great, Tim," Naomi agreed. "You're looking much better."

"I'm still tired."

"That will pass."

"I hope so."

"It will," Sam said. "I've been bragging about you to my classes."

"For what?"

Sarah rolled her eyes, but Sam was the one who answered. "Because for the last class meeting, I decided to talk about Winston Churchill."

"That's no surprise. You would work Churchill into a course on...medieval...Indian love poetry," Sarah said.

"Shush. I didn't even bring him up. Someone else suggested him."

"They probably read your article on the power of Churchill's orations."

"Shush! We were talking about his power to motivate, but someone else brought up Tim."

"How did they know?"

"Because everyone in the English department knows. I told them that I was proud of you because you typified one of Churchill's statements regarding courage and perseverance."

"Dad..."

"No need to get embarrassed. No one's here but we four."

Tim flushed anyway.

"Which statement, Dad?" Sarah asked.

Sam grinned. "I thought you'd never ask."

"Sam," Naomi said.

"'If you're going through hell, keep going.'"

"Sounds like Churchill," Tim said softly.

"Tim, I can't tell you how proud I am of you...and how relieved I am that I can tell you...that I can't tell you," Sam said, smiling.

"Yeah...me, too," Tim said. "Merry Christmas, Dad." Tim sat up and hugged Sam tightly.

"Well, we'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning, Tim," Naomi said, forcing the tears out of her voice. She kissed the top of his head and then they all left.

Tim lay back and was about to drop off to sleep...he was tired enough that it wasn't hard...when there was a soft knock at the door. He sat up once more and decided that he didn't have the energy to walk to the door.

"Come in?"

The door opened and to his surprise Silvia and a man who must be her husband both stuck their heads in the door.

"Hey, Tim? This is my husband, Matthew. Tonya wanted to come by. Is that all right?"

"Sure! I'm not going to be all that entertaining at the moment, but you're welcome."

"Oh, we need masks!" The heads withdrew and then, the three of them came in. Tonya had a flat package in her hands.

"Tonya, merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, Tim. I wanted to give you a present."

"Oh, you didn't have to. I didn't even think to get you anything."

"You got antlers," she said seriously. "And you came and sang. You also told me all about your cancer...and most people won't do that because they think I'm too young or something. My friend Jerry had leukemia. He died last year. Julie had a brain tumor just like me, but they got it all out and she's at home. Now, you had leukemia, like Jerry, but you're all better...almost."

"Almost."

"So...I draw pictures for all my friends, but I didn't have one for you because I just met you...although I met your door a couple of months ago. There was no one in here then."

"You met my door?"

"Yeah. I can tell the places I'm not allowed to go. So I just would say hi to your door instead...but yesterday, I drew you a picture." She handed him the package.

"Thank you, Tonya. Can I open it now, or do I need to wait for Christmas Day?"

"Open it, now! I want to see if you like it!"

Tim grinned and pulled off the tissue paper. He laughed when he saw the picture. She had drawn him...as a reindeer., complete with the red puff ball on his mask and antlers.

"Turn it over! I did another one, too. A serious one."

Tim flipped over the paper and sure enough, there was another picture. This one was Tim running around outside. There were bright flowers everywhere and butterflies and a bright yellow sun overhead. He was waving up into the sky...at a little girl with dark brown eyes and wings...and no hair. Tim's lips twisted, even as he tried to smile.

"It's beautiful, Tonya. I'll make sure I do that very thing when I get a chance."

"I figured it wouldn't be until spring; so you can wait until then."

"Thank you. Thank you."

Tim didn't see Tonya on Christmas Day. She was with her family and Tim's friends and family all were around. It was a day filled to the brim with laughter and caring. All of Tim's friends came...not all at once because some had their own celebrations, but Ducky came and Jimmy came later in the day. Gibbs was there. Abby was there. Even Ziva came to celebrate Christmas, notwithstanding the differences in religious belief. They all exchanged gifts and then, Tim showed them the picture Tonya had drawn for him. Everyone was still joyful, but it was a muted, tempered joy. What they had, the hope and the expectations they now had could so easily be swept away. It was far too easy to imagine a situation similar to that of Tonya's parents...waiting for a child to die. They had a deeper appreciation of the joy they now possessed. Tim was alive. He was thriving. He would survive...but he remembered Tonya and hoped that she would also be happy, even in the midst of the sorrow that was no doubt paining her parents.

Then, of course, Tonya left the day after Christmas. On New Year's Eve, he got a postcard from Disneyworld. He wondered how in the world he could have made enough of an impression on that little girl that she wanted to send him a card, but he promised himself that he would never forget her.

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

Midnight approached and for once, Tim was alert enough that he thought he could stick it out until the beginning of the new year. His room was full of people, all wearing masks...as he was. The door opened at 11:45 p.m. to admit Dr. Scott.

"Wow. I thought that maybe some of you would have left," he said, smiling.

"Not until midnight," Tim said and yawned widely. "Only...fifteen more minutes."

"You going to make it?"

"If it kills me," Tim said firmly. "What's up?"

"I have some news."

Everyone went silent.

"Wow. I couldn't do that if I tried in a classroom," Dr. Scott said.

"News can be good or bad. Which is it this time?" Tim asked.

"I'll let you decide."

"Sadist," Abby said, but her tone was light.

"I've been talking with Christopher and he and I agree that you're on track to be discharged next week."

"D-Discharged?" Tim asked. "I...get to go home?" It seemed impossible. It seemed unbelievable. More than six months he had lived in this hospital...and now...he was going to leave it?

"Yes, Tim. That's what I'm saying. There is still no sign of leukemic cells. Your physical therapy is coming along, although Christopher wants to be sure you're not going to overdo it. You're appetite is coming back and you don't even have an IV anymore. The central line will have to stay in for a few more months, of course, and you'll be here a lot...but yes, you get to go home."

Silence. Complete silence...except for Dick Clark's Rockin' New Year's Eve. It was 11:47 p.m. Thirteen minutes to the new year.

"Well, don't all shout out at once," Dr. Scott said and even though they couldn't see his face, they knew he was grinning.

Abby was the first to shout. She grabbed Tim and kissed him through their masks. Then, there were so many huggings and kissings and shoutings and congratulations floating around that they missed the ball drop. Suddenly, it was a new year...and Tim was on his way home.