Chapter 21
Vance stayed silent for only a fraction of a second during which time, his expression could only be described as pitying.
"No, Agent McGee. You are not being fired."
"Why not?" Tim asked.
"Do you want to be fired?"
"No...but...but...I'm an addict, sir." Tim stared at his hands...at his arm. Even though it was covered by his jacket, he could see the healing lacerations. "E.O. 12564 says that...'Persons who use illegal drugs are not suitable for Federal employment.' I'm using illegal drugs."
Tim didn't look up...so he missed the sad smiles on the faces of Gibbs and Vance, the unsurprised expression on Ducky's face. Yes, Tim would know exactly the wording of something that condemned him.
"You are also a good employee, McGee," Vance said. "As Gibbs reminded me, if you hadn't been good at your job, you wouldn't have been able to keep it once you started."
Tim looked up. "But, sir, Director, I...I've lied about it...repeatedly. I did everything I could to make sure no one found out. I endangered lives by...by maintaining that I was okay. Even now...I..." His eyes dropped to his lap again. "I'm still an addict. Every minute of every day. How can you possibly trust me? I don't trust myself."
"Maybe that's why."
"I don't understand, sir."
"Agent McGee, you are still a good agent, and I would be foolish to let that go. I trust you because I know you aren't trying to pretend."
"What if I am?"
Tim heard a distinct sigh...and then, something that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle.
"Anyone would think that you're trying to play the role of prosecutor here, McGee."
"I just want to make sure you...you understand who I am...what I've done. I don't want you to keep me...keep me on when...if...if you'll regret it later."
"Sit up straight, McGee," Gibbs said into the ensuing silence.
Tim did so and couldn't help but look up. He met Gibbs' eyes and saw no condemnation...and a trace of amusement which surprised him. He then forced himself to look at Vance. No matter what he had told Tony, he had expected to be fired and not to be seemed both impossible and frightening.
Vance, once he was sure that he had Tim's attention, spoke again. "Make no mistake, Agent McGee, you are on notice. There are things you'll have to do in order to stay on here, not the least of which is going to be continuing your rehabilitation and successfully completing it, but I won't regret keeping you as a special agent if you wish to stay."
"What..." Tim had to clear his throat. "What else is there? ...for me to do...to keep my job?" He added the final tag knowing that the other three had caught what he meant.
"You're familiar with the Employee Assistance Programs?"
"Y-Yes, sir."
"I'm assuming your rehab program has a therapy component to it?"
"Yes. It does. Group therapy sessions, plus one-on-one meetings."
"Good. In addition, I want you to meet with an EAP counselor...sometime in the next few days and then regularly once you return to work. I will leave those decisions up to you and the counselor but it is a required part of your continued employment. Is that understood?"
"Yes, sir."
"In addition, in concert with your rehabilitation, you'll be subjected to urine tests."
"Yes, sir. That makes sense."
Ducky, who was sitting closest to Tim, put a hand on his shoulder. "Timothy, no one in this room expects you to be perfect...except perhaps you."
Tim swallowed again and his eyes unmistakably filled with tears. "I just don't want to screw up again. I'll do whatever it takes, Director."
"I know that, Agent McGee. I'll expect to hear from you regarding your EAP meeting within the week, and I'll want a regular report on your progress, your fitness for duty."
"Yes, sir."
"Any questions?"
"Just one, Director."
"What's that?"
"Are you sure you trust me?"
"Yes, Agent McGee. I'm sure."
Tim nodded. "Is that all?"
"Yes. Within the week."
"Yes, sir." He stood and walked out.
Vance leaned back. "Why is that I think I could have asked him to engage in self-flagellation every day and he would have done it...and shown me the welts?"
"Because he would have," Gibbs said. "And he might even have preferred it."
Vance looked at the two men who knew Tim much better than he did. "Has he ruined himself? Is it too late?"
"I don't know that I can answer that," Gibbs said.
"You can try."
"I hope not."
"Ducky?"
Ducky sighed and looked at the door. "I can only echo Jethro. I hope not. It's hard to say at this moment. Timothy has been forced to confront himself in a way many never do. He needs the time to recover from that confrontation...but what the result of that will be...it's hard to say, if not impossible. If I might be excused, Director?"
"Of course, Ducky."
"Thank you." Ducky left the two original occupants alone.
"Jethro."
"I don't know, Leon," Gibbs said. "I really don't. I would never have thought McGee would...take it so hard, but it's not really all that surprising when you think about it."
"I don't want to have to dismiss him."
"Then, don't. Give him the time and he'll be okay."
"You hope?"
Gibbs stood and walked to the door, but before he walked out, he nodded. "Yes. I hope."
Alone, Vance stood and walked to the window again and shook his head at the view.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Tim didn't want to see Tony and Ziva. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He wanted to run and hide, but leaving Vance's office made him visible to the entire bullpen...to all the eyes that must be on him at the moment. Tony gestured vigorously for Tim to come down, but he didn't shout for which Tim was very grateful. ...but he didn't want to go down.
A hand on his shoulder steered him toward the stairs.
"Go down, Timothy. Go down and talk to your friends."
Tim didn't reply, couldn't...but he didn't resist. He reached the bullpen, Ducky directing him all the way.
"Hey, Probie, how did it go?"
"Fine," Tim said. "It was fine."
"What did the Director say?" Ziva asked. Her voice was light, but she was looking at him too closely...looking for...what?
"I have to meet with a...a counselor and...and complete my rehabilitation."
"But you are still going to be here, yes?"
Tim nodded.
"Does that not please you?"
"It does. I didn't want to get fired."
Both Tony and Ziva looked behind him, no doubt at Ducky who had not taken his hand from Tim's shoulder.
"I...I have to go. I have an...appointment." Tim swallowed again. "I'll see you...later. Okay?"
"Okay, McGee," Ziva said. Then, she stepped forward and kissed him quickly on the cheek. "I am glad you are staying."
Tim finally smiled a little. "Me, too. I really have to go."
"Very well."
Tim stepped forward, pulling away from Ducky's guiding hand, stepping between Ziva and Tony. He reached the elevator just as Abby had come back up to see what had happened. She shouted his name, but he just smiled and said again that he had to leave. Again, Ducky seemed to pass along a silent message and she didn't run after him.
"What's up with McGee?" Tony asked. "He wasn't fired was he?"
"No, he wasn't."
"Then, what's up? He wasn't like this before."
"I'm not sure, Tony. I just know that at the moment, Timothy needs some time to himself."
"Tim seemed...so...sad," Abby said. "What did Vance do to him?"
"Nothing. Nothing at all, Abigail."
"Gibbs! What's wrong with Tim?" Abby called up.
Gibbs didn't answer as he came down the stairs. Instead, he walked the rest of the way down, around the landing and joined the group in the bullpen.
"I don't know what's wrong...beyond what has been wrong for years, Abby."
"It can't just be that!"
"Yes, I'm afraid it can be, my dear."
"I don't like it," Abby said, now letting out her worry.
"Nor do I, but this is not something we can fix...not right away. It will take time and the last thing Timothy needs at the moment is more scrutiny."
"Just give him a bit of a break, Abby," Gibbs said. "And we have work to do...I'm sure you do as well."
Work. It seemed impossible that there could be regular life going on out there when life inside had become so...irregular. Even though it had been more than two weeks since Tim's addiction had come to light, they were still unable to process its reality.
...that Tim might have the same difficulty didn't occur to them.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"Hey, Jethro! I'm home!" Tim called as he opened the door...and was nearly knocked over by an excited dog. Tim smiled, the first genuine smile since he'd left NCIS that morning. "You want to go out? I know you got walked but...you want to go out now?"
Jethro leapt around eagerly.
"Okay, give me a minute." He went into the bedroom, changed his clothes and grabbed Jethro's leash and ball.
"Let's go!"
They jogged to a nearby park and then Tim let Jethro run around, chase his ball, and in general, enjoy the outdoors. All the while, something was stirring in Tim's chest, something he'd been steadfastly ignoring ever since his meeting with Vance. He had gone to the clinic and had his first group therapy session. He didn't say much and no one seemed to expect him to do so.
After half an hour, Tim called Jethro and they jogged back home. As Tim walked to his door, he heard a shout.
"Hey, Tim!"
He turned. "Hi, Melanie."
"Wow, you're still looking pretty pale. I haven't seen you around much...not since I gave you your package. You okay?"
Tim managed a weak smile. "Yeah, I'm okay. I had...some problems with the medication I was taking. It turned out to be more serious than I thought...but I'm doing much better now."
"I'm glad. Even got Jethro out for a walk?"
"More of a run than a walk, but yeah."
"Well, if you need anything, you can call me, you know."
Tim smiled again and nodded. "I know. Thanks."
"No problem." She wandered back down the hall to her apartment. Tim watched her go inside and then turned back to his own door. Jethro was nudging at his legs, knowing that going inside meant he'd be fed.
"Okay, Jethro. In we go."
He fed Jethro and watched him eat for a few minutes before going to his cupboard and pulling out the bottle of diazepam. He looked at it with a mingled distaste and longing. Carefully, he set out his nightly dose on the counter and then capped the bottle and put it away. With a full glass of water, he began to take his pills, one at a time until they were gone. He poured the extra water down the drain, washed the glass and put it in the cupboard next to the pills. Then, he closed the cupboard door, ensuring that it was securely latched. No chance of the bottle falling to the floor.
He patted Jethro on the head as he walked back to his bedroom. The dog barely looked up, so intent was he on emptying his dish. Then, with a vague disquiet, he got ready for bed, knowing that he wouldn't be sleeping for a while, but figuring that he might as well try. Then, finally, he sat down on his bed and looked around.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
The silence that had ruled in the apartment was suddenly broken. It startled Jethro who had emptied his food dish and moved onto his water. Drawn into the bedroom, he investigated. What he found was Tim, lying on his bed, in almost the exact same place he'd tried to violently remove the drugs from his body, sobbing as if his heart was breaking. Jethro whined, but Tim couldn't even hear him over his own tears. Eventually, Jethro climbed onto the bed, generally a no-no, and put his head by Tim's. Tim didn't seem to notice...his arms were covering his face.
He cried himself to sleep.