Chapter 25

"I'll take this one," Gibbs said, putting a file on Vance's desk. He then turned to leave.

"Didn't work, did it," Vance said.

"What didn't work?"

"Confronting McGee."

"That wasn't why I went."

"Then, why did you?"

"To understand. Now, I do. That's the new member of my team."

Vance picked up the file and opened it. "Good choice. She'll work well with your people, I think."

"Is that everything?"

"How was he?" Vance asked, concern evident in his voice.

"Bad. ...but he won't accept help, not from anyone right now...probably not even his family."

"Have you read the transcripts?"

"No."

"You should...along with his report."

"I have his report."

"Good. Remember what I said before. I expect the MCRT to be operating at top form as usual. There will be a settling in period as there always is, but I don't want a repeat of what happened when Agent David was gone."

"There won't be."

"Good. Then, that's all." Vance looked back down at his paperwork.

"Leon?"

Vance looked up. "Yes?"

"Abby said you were worried. Why?"

Vance leaned back in his chair and looked at Gibbs for a long time.

"Why?"

"Because, Jethro...McGee talks in his sleep." With that cryptic statement, he went back to work.

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

Tim cleaned out the dead frogs and grass. There were only two frogs. They had put up a good fight, but they had died, just like the ones from the night before. Then, he went inside and picked up his phone. He'd wager that Matt had already talked to his parents, but he also knew that if he didn't talk to them soon, they'd take steps to force him to talk. He didn't want that. He didn't want to see them, not yet. Just like he wanted to keep Sarah away, he also wanted his parents away.

He dialed a very familiar number.

"McGee residence."

"Hi, Mom."

"Tim! Oh, thank goodness. We've been so worried since your message and talking to Matt."

"I'm fine."

"Let me get your father on the extension. Sam! It's Tim!"

Tim waited, heard the click signaling that his father was there and then started again.

"I'm fine. I've just been working some things out first."

"You don't sound fine, Tim," Sam said. "Not at all."

"Well, I am."

"Matt told us that you quit."

"Yes. I did. I'm not sorry about doing that. It wasn't a mistake."

"What happened?"

"Nothing. I just called because I knew you'd be worried and I didn't want you coming here."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not ready to see you yet."

"Tim, you're starting to scare me," Naomi said.

"I'm just being honest, Mom," Tim said firmly. "I don't want you and Dad coming out here to check on me. I know you want to, but I don't want you to. Please, don't."

"Why not?"

"Just trust me, okay? I don't want you to come and see me. I don't want you to show up on Matt's doorstep and surprise me. Just stay in Ohio and I'll let you know when I'm ready to see you."

"What are you mad about, Tim?" Sam asked.

"Oh, lots of things, but don't worry, Dad. I'm not going to go postal or anything. Do you know what Oliver Wendell Holmes said about insanity?"

"What?"

"'Insanity is often the logic of an accurate mind overtasked.'"

"Is that what you are, then, Tim?"

Tim laughed. "I'm sure that if you asked some people, they'd say yes, but I don't think so. I know what I'm doing."

"What are you doing, Tim?" Naomi asked.

"I'm living my life as I want to. I'm not going to let anyone tell me differently."

"And you think we would?"

"I know you would."

There was a silence.

"How long do you want us to stay away?"

"Until I'm ready to see you, not before then."

"I don't like this, Tim. You don't sound well at all."

"I know, but it's what I want. Will you respect that?"

Another long silence.

"I don't want to, Tim," Naomi said, honestly. "I really don't want to."

"Will you?"

"We will," Sam said finally, but the tone of his voice was not of acceptance, only of resignation. "We'll do as you ask, Tim...but please, call us once or twice. Will you do that much?"

"Yes."

"All right. We'll have to trust you...even if I don't think it's a good idea."

Tim laughed softly. "It's not a good idea, but it's what I want, and I want you to leave me alone for now."

"Okay."

"I've got to go now. I'll call you...sometime. Bye."

Tim hung up before his parents could say anything else. It was quiet in the house.

"'Should the whole frame of nature round him break
In ruin and confusion hurled,
He, unconcerned, would hear the mighty crack,
And stand secure amidst a falling world.' Joseph Addison."

Tim smiled.

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

Gibbs stopped the tape. To think that it had been sitting there on record for months and none of them had any idea. He rewound it and pushed play.

The moaning began at a low volume. The microphone wasn't in the bedroom, though; so it must have been louder. It gradually got louder. The occasional word could be heard. No coherent sentences, though, for about five minutes.

"No...not...not me. It's not me! Please, no!"

Variations repeated for about thirty seconds before Tim apparently woke up, breathing so loudly that the microphone picked it up.

The trembling breaths stopped after a few seconds, but Gibbs found repeat performances on a number of nights running from the second month of the operation all the way to the end. Quick passes through the video showed Tim awake and moving around a lot of those same nights. Not every night revealed the inner torment, but enough that it was obvious why Vance had been worried.

Tim had been afraid...of something, of someone. ...but he had never revealed any of it because of his belief in the motivations of his team...and more than likely the fact that he'd fully decided to go along with the ideas Thomas Allen McKay thought rather than what he himself would think. Somehow, Tim had managed to maintain his cover so thoroughly that even the obvious nightmares hadn't affected his performance, even if they had affected everything else.

Tim was right. He hadn't failed, not in his job.

...but what he was doing now... Did he really know and understand the consequences of what he'd chosen?

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

Tim decided to swim that day. For a few precious hours, he was able to forget about everything. Jethro played with him in the pool, splashing water everywhere. It was a lot of fun...something Tim couldn't remember having had in a long time.

He tired out from swimming much too quickly, but then he helped Jethro get the chlorine out of his fur by letting him play with the hose. Even that was exhausting, and so then Tim carefully herded the soaking-wet dog into the downstairs bathtub and gave him a real bath. Jethro was strangely docile all through it. Normally, he resisted getting into a tub and getting soaped up. This time, he simply licked Tim's face every time Tim got near him.

By the time Tim finished that monumental task, he was almost shaking with weariness. ...but he persevered. He fed Jethro, tried to eat a meal of his own...and threw most of it away.

After that, he had to give in to the need to sleep. He was starting to see double as his eyes tried to focus. He reeled like a drunken sailor to the nearest horizontal surface, a couch in the living room. He collapsed onto it and was asleep before he had a chance to do anything more than move a pillow under his head.

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

"Is there anything we can do, Duck?" Gibbs asked earnestly.

Ducky sighed and turned off the tape. The sudden cessation of Tim's shouting made Autopsy seem very quiet.

"No, Jethro. We can't...not unless he wants the help...and if what you told me is accurate...which I assume it is...Timothy has no desire to work through his problems. Even if it means that we have to stand by and watch him self-destruct, there's nothing we can do. We might know that he needs the help, but his behavior, while disturbing, is not enough to have him forcibly committed."

"I doubt that would help anyway."

"As do I. No, Jethro. I'm afraid that Timothy has made it impossible to help him. All we can do is leave our doors open, so to speak. If he does ask, we can give the help he so desperately needs. Until that time, however, we will do more harm than good by trying to force him in any way."

"And if he never asks?"

"Then...I don't know what will happen. I really don't."

"And I'm just supposed to stand by and wait for him to destroy himself, Ducky?"

"Jethro...it's much too late to do anything else! I'm sorry, but..." Ducky sighed. "...but you all waited so long that...that now waiting is all you can do. I don't like it. It won't be pleasant, but that's all there is. Timothy has made sure of that...and I hate to say it, but he was helped by you three."

Gibbs nodded. It was true enough. Why fight it?

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

"We're getting someone new?" Tony asked.

"McGee quit," Gibbs said. "We have a desk to fill. She'll be starting next week."

"But Gibbs–!" Ziva protested.

"I talked to McGee yesterday. He's not coming back."

"You know where he is?" Tony asked.

"Yes...but neither of you are going out to talk to him."

"Why not?" Ziva demanded.

"Because he hates us enough that he threatened me with a knife and says that if he sees any of us on the property, he's going to call the police."

"Seriously?"

"Yes. So leave him alone. I'll make that an order if I have to."

"Is that the best thing to do...with McGee like this?"

Gibbs shook his head. "No. It's not the best thing. It's the only thing."

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

Tim woke up, literally screaming in terror. Jethro was barking loudly and looking around for the threat.

"Stop! Stop!" Tim shouted at him. "Stop it!"

Jethro began whining and crawled under the side table.

Tim held his head in his hands. He could still feel her behind him, could almost feel her breath on his neck. He shuddered, suddenly cold. It was dark outside. How long had he slept? He had no idea, couldn't even remember what time it had been when he'd fallen asleep.

He tried to stand but he was shaking too badly to balance. For a few seconds, the shaking got worse not better, to the point that Tim was actually frightened by his own body's response to the nightmare. Then, the shudders eased and he got up. He thought about going to bed but there was no way he could face that again. Instead, he walked out to the pool, put in the cleaner and settled himself for another night of watching the frogs.

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

Time passed...

...and in a way, life went on. Jamie Chapel began working with the MCRT, a transfer from Norfolk...like Tim had been. She came in tentatively, but she wasn't like Tim. She was a lot more confident for one thing. Jamie had been working for NCIS for three years before this, and she knew what she could do. However, the scuttlebutt had been running rampant and she seemed to have an inkling that she was coming into a delicate situation. So...she didn't push to be friends. She simply did her job. They couldn't fault her for that.

Tim and Jethro continued their sojourn in Maryland. It couldn't really be called living. It was an existence...but not living. To live required something more than spending every night either screaming in abject terror or morbidly watching the drowning of multiple amphibians. He called his parents once. He called Sarah once. He even called Matt once. He didn't allow for any real conversation. Instead, he simply let them know that he was still alive..since he knew that was what they were worried about. In a way, life, such as it was, became easier. The days passed in a haze, the nights did too...mostly. Every so often, Tim thought he saw a familiar car on the road, but he ignored it. As long as they stayed away, they could look as much as they wanted. Look. Don't touch.

Abby, of course, didn't want to like Jamie, but Jamie was nice and not trying to muscle in on Tim's territory. So...it was hard for her to realize that Jamie was a good person who was going to be a permanent addition to NCIS headquarters.

And time went on...

More than a month went by. No one had more than a glimpse of Tim during that time. His insistence on total isolation continued. He refused visitors from among the people he didn't loathe and he had no interest in seeing the people he did.

...but the feelings weren't going away. The dreams weren't going away. That sensation of someone hovering just out of sight. He couldn't get rid of it. Sometimes, he'd notice slight tremors in his hands. Most of the time, what sleep he did get was as a result of nearly passing out from exhaustion...but he always woke up because of the nightmares. Always.