Chapter 21
Ducky sighed with relief and he saw Jimmy relax as well.
"That's crazy, Dr. Mallard," Jimmy said softly. "I can't believe how well this turned out."
"What is it?" Loren asked.
Tim had slipped into unconsciousness which had worried his father quite a bit, but privately, Ducky had been glad of it because it meant less potential for twitches or other damaging movements. It was likely that the reality of what had happened started to set in for Tim and his body finally registered the injury. The surgery had gone relatively quickly.
"If the man who shot Timothy had been trying to miss vital areas, he could hardly have done a better job. There is some damage to the muscles and tendons, of course, but he missed the brachial artery and nerve. All in all, I feel that what I'm seeing here is the best we could have hoped for. I'll do an x ray, just to be sure that I haven't missed anything, but I believe Mr. Palmer was correct in his summation. It's nearly unbelievable that Timothy could have been so fortunate."
Jimmy suppressed a small smile. This had been a first for him and a major relief that he hadn't botched it.
"What now?" Loren asked.
"Now, we close up and hope for the best...since we've got quite a bit of the best already. Mr. Palmer, if you would assist?"
Jimmy nodded. "Of course."
Carefully, they stitched up the exit and entrance wound on Tim's shoulder. Under Ducky's close supervision, Jimmy did the suturing himself. It wasn't his first time, but it was his first time in this kind of situation...with someone like Admiral McGee hovering around. When it was done, Jimmy sat back with an audible sigh of relief.
"Well done, Mr. Palmer," Ducky said. "None could do better. Now, we should move him onto a softer surface than an autopsy slab. Jethro?"
Gibbs walked over and joined them in the restricted area.
"He doesn't have to stay in here, does he?" Loren asked. "No offense to you, Dr. Mallard, but..."
"None taken. This is a place for the dead, not the living, and Timothy is definitely living."
"We can get him somewhere else," Gibbs said. "Tony, you and Ziva get one of the cots and set it up in the evidence garage. It's not a whole lot better, but it's not Autopsy. It doesn't have windows; so they won't be able to find him there."
"How long will he stay here?"
"As long as it's necessary. I'm not going to put your son at risk."
Loren looked at Tim.
"I know...that's what I did when I chose to believe that there was nothing I could do to help him. It's like...I'm the one who shot him."
"You're not," Gibbs said. "Don't give the people who did this more power than they already have. They're still controlling your son's beliefs to some degree, and that's something we need to change. I didn't realize how powerful they still were in his mind and that was a big mistake on my part...but I didn't shoot your son and neither did you."
"What are the odds that there's going to be something wrong, something that you missed, Dr. Mallard?"
"We can only hope for the best. Once he awakens, we can see if he's able to move his arm, if he feels a lot of pain or none at all. I think we may be fortunate in avoiding permanent damage."
"All right. We can sit with him?"
"Of course. Don't rush him to wake up and when he does, keep him calm. That will likely mean that you have to reassure him that you're not hurt."
Loren hated that. He hated that helping his son meant allaying baseless worries about his own safety...but he nodded. He, Joan and Sarah followed as they moved Tim out of Autopsy and into the evidence garage. Tony and Ziva had quickly set up a cot for him. It wasn't amazing accommodations, but it was the best they had at the moment.
The McGees sat down beside Tim.
"Is he going to be okay?" Sarah asked softly as she stared at him.
"I hope so," Joan said.
She leaned down and kissed Tim's forehead.
"He'll come through it," she said. "Tim will make it. He survived surgery in a place like this. He'll wake up when he's ready."
Loren couldn't take his eyes off Tim, knowing now what he'd been going through, knowing that Tim had been manipulated so thoroughly for so many years. It was so hard accept that, beneath Tim's resigned, even accepting, exterior had been so much torment.
Tim remained unconscious for another hour. When he woke up, his eyes were clouded with pain and confusion.
"Dad?" he whispered.
"I'm here, Tim. I'm fine."
Loren hated saying it and he saw Sarah's irritation before she managed to mask it.
"What happened? I remember...there was...a gun."
"They shot you, Tim," Joan said. "The NCIS people brought you here and operated."
"Shot me?"
"Yes."
"Not you, Dad?" Tim asked.
"No, Tim. Not me. I'm not in danger. You are."
"I am? Why?" Tim asked.
"Because you know so much about what they've done."
"But they...said they'd...kill you."
"That was just an empty threat. I'm fine, Tim. Don't worry about me."
Tim was quiet for a few minutes. Loren thought he'd fallen asleep again, but suddenly he opened his eyes.
"Where is here?"
"NCIS Headquarters."
Tim looked around.
"Why here?"
"Because we don't know how far these people will go," Loren said.
"You're sure that it's not you they're after?" Tim asked.
Loren forced himself to smile.
"I'm not important enough to kill, Tim. There are more important people for them to go after. I'm in no danger."
"Then...why are you here?"
"Because of you. I told you that we were going to help you."
"But...Gibbs...he said that I..."
"He didn't know what you'd do."
"What did I do?"
"You tried to run, Tim," Sarah said. "Gibbs asked for your help and you ran because you thought you had to protect Dad."
"Sarah, this is not the time," Joan said.
"When will be the time, then?" Sarah demanded. "Tim, you almost got killed today, and you're worried about Dad? Nothing has ever happened to Dad because of what you chose to do. You're the only one that's ever suffered for it."
Tim looked at her for a long moment without speaking...until she stopped her rant.
"Sarah, it's not Dad's fault. I don't really remember what happened before. It's kind of a blur in my head, but don't blame Dad."
"If he hadn't..."
"Stop!" Tim said, managing to be louder than he looked like he could. He actually tried to sit up. "Stop, Sarah. Don't tear us apart. I don't have anyone else besides my family." He leaned back and stared at the ceiling for a moment, clearly feeling some pain. Then, he looked at Loren. "I've forgiven you for what happened when I was a teenager. It's been a long time. We don't need to talk about it anymore." He looked at Sarah. "Drop it, Sarah. Let it go. Haven't we suffered enough as a family for this?"
He fell back, wincing.
"I really got shot?"
"Yes, you did, Tim," Joan said.
"I really don't remember that. I remember hearing the gun, but that's all."
"I promise. You were shot."
Tim smiled weakly. "I believe you. What now?"
"Now, we let you recover a bit."
Tim surprised Loren by shaking his head.
"No. Now what?"
"We still need your help, Tim."
Tim took a deep breath and shook his head.
"Loren..." Joan began.
"I can't...can't do that again, Dad. I can't get in there."
"Yes, you can," Loren said as he put a hand on Joan's arm to quiet her. "You can, and you need to, Tim. Not just for this case. You need to do it for yourself. You need to do it for us."
"How will it affect you?" Tim asked.
"The safer you are, the safer we are, Tim. The better off you are, the happier we can be. And that means helping these NCIS people."
Tim's expression was more than one of reluctance. It was one of terror. Over the years, his hacking into DARPA had become the most horrific choice in the world, something that he could never do again without inviting some kind of doom. More than anything else, this was a mindless terror. Bringing it up meant instant fear. Loren suddenly realized that he had never had the opportunity to help his son through these moments of fear. Everyone faced them at some point, but usually, they didn't have to face them alone and they had someone there to tell them that it wasn't as frightening as they thought it was. Loren had squandered Tim's earlier years and then had lost the chance when Tim got older. Instead, what Tim had was people telling him in no uncertain terms that, yes, it was that frightening and that dangerous and stepping out of line in any way was going to lead to death. All those lost years, lost experiences, time he could have spent with his only son.
This was his chance to help Tim get past this. Loren looked at Joan.
"Tim and I need to talk, Joan."
Joan nodded and pulled Sarah to her feet and over to the far side of the evidence garage. Loren leaned over and helped Tim sit up. It took a few moments to get him into a moderately comfortable position.
"Tim..." he began, not sure of what he should say.
"No, Dad," Tim said softly. "No. Don't you remember how that turned out last time?"
"But I'm listening and I'm doing what's best for you, not what's best for me."
"But you're ignoring me again!" Tim said. "I'm telling you no, and this time, you're still saying that I have to do what you say."
"That's because, Tim, this time, you're not really thinking, not like you were before. You were breaking out of the box I'd forced you into. This time, you're fighting to stay inside the box with the man-eating tigers, and I can't leave you there."
"Why not?" Tim asked. "It's easy to stay."
"Because no parent can leave their child in danger, even if the child is insisting. You know what will happen if you go back, if you try to avoid confronting them. You'll die, Tim. If you fight back, you can stop these people from hurting you...and from hurting a lot of other people."
"But what about you?"
"I already told you that I'm in no danger."
"So far."
"Do you know what I regret most about all this that's happened?"
"No."
Loren shook his head.
"It took a lot of courage for you to do what you did back then. You tried to stand up to me, but you couldn't and so you made a plan and implemented it perfectly."
"Not quite perfectly."
"Okay, not quite perfect, but the years after that seemed to have crushed that daring and that courage right out of you. You're downtrodden, beaten, and afraid. There's no courage. And I am so sorry for that, Tim."
Tim's brow furrowed at him.
"You don't think it took courage to stay there?"
"No, I don't think it did, Tim. It took fear, and you have that in spades."
Loren was actually glad to see some irritation in Tim's eyes.
"It would have taken courage to fight back, but fear is dictating everything in your life. You would even go back to people who have shown that they're willing to kill just out of fear of others getting hurt. Self-sacrifice is all well and good, but it's pointless in this case because we know what happened to you, and now we know what's going on to some degree. That means that if you die, you've escaped the fear and the rest of us are left picking up the pieces. Is that what you're trying to do, Tim? Are you trying to give up in a way that no one can possibly pull you back? I didn't think my son would ever try to save himself at the expense of others."
"What do you think I've been doing all these years, Dad? I've been working with people who terrify me! People who hold all the cards, whose most effective threat was to tell me how you could have been hurt if I didn't do what they said! I wasn't trying to save myself!"
"And yet, Tim, you avoided any possibility of being free of them. So...how much of it is because of how much control they have over you and how much is because you've bought into the idea that this is a just punishment for what you did?"
Tim was quiet.
"That wasn't a rhetorical question, son!" Loren said.
He felt some satisfaction at Tim's grimace. That was a statement which had been spoken more than once when Tim had tried to avoid getting into any kind of argument. He would stand there mutely, usually staring at his feet.
"Why are you asking?"
"Because I don't think you've actually thought about it. It's understandable, maybe, but think, Tim. You're way too smart just to react. Think!"
Tim was quiet again. He looked away, and Loren didn't push the eye contact. He really did want to see the fire Tim had possessed when he was younger. It was something he hadn't really appreciated back then. Now, he hoped that it was just flickering, not completely out.
"I feel like a little kid every time I have to go into that room," Tim whispered after a couple of minutes.
"What room?"
"Room 23. The room where they always were, where...Mr. Orlen was shot...where they always threatened. Every time I went in there... They scare me, Dad. I'll admit it. I'm terrified of them. I spent a long time where all I wanted was to stay out of that room, to stay away from them. I did that by doing exactly what they wanted. I toe the line, Dad."
"You're not going to get out that way, and you told me that you want to. Were you lying?"
"No."
"Then, Tim, you need to fight your fears. Stop expecting the worst. Start doing something about it!"
"Like hacking into DARPA again?"
"Yes."
"No!"
"Think, Tim. Don't just react. Think about it."
"How will this help?"
"It will let you get out of the mindset that had you running mindlessly into a bullet! Tim, your reactions are more dangerous than the people who control you! You are too strong to let them get to you. You need to stop letting them have that power."
Tim looked up at the ceiling with a sheen of tears in his eyes.
"I don't know how, Dad."
"Just let these NCIS people help you. They're so determined to do it, and I don't even know why."
"Because of Erin," Tim said softly.
"What do you mean?"
"I accused them of letting her get killed...but really, it was my fault."
"No, Tim. It's not your fault."
"People who come near me die, Dad. Kate...Erin...Mr. Orlen... Who's next?"
"You can't think that way. Pull yourself out of that. Think about something else. What do you want to do with your life?"
"I wanted to go to college, Dad, but I can't."
"I know."
Tim looked around the room.
"I think I could have liked working someplace like this."
"Maybe you can...when this is over."
Tim rubbed his shoulder and winced.
"Yeah. Over."