Chapter 25

As Tim neared the Navy Yard, his mind began to fill with the kind of baseless worries a stressed person thinks up. What if he'd misread the day? What if he was early? What if he was late? What if he'd misunderstood and he wasn't supposed to come back at all? He knew it was silly, but it was still in his head…speaking of his head…as he rolled up to a stop light, he looked at himself in the rearview mirror. The goose egg looked even worse now than it had an hour ago. It was turning purple and was quite large. Great. Just what I need for my first day back…more scrutiny. Worse was, of course, the fact that he knew everyone would want to know what had happened. Quite frankly, he was at a loss to explain it, and he didn't really want to try. And yet… he couldn't lie to them…not again. However, if he told them exactly what had happened, would they think he was crazy? Was he crazy? The light turned green and Tim pushed on the gas again. He rolled his eyes at himself. He was starting his first day of probation and he was worrying about a bump on his head? There were much worse things to worry about…which, to be honest, was probably the reason he was worrying about it. The entrance to the Navy Yard loomed up ahead of him and Tim took a deep breath. No sense in postponing the inevitable…especially when he was happy about being back. It was just all the attached strings that were giving him the jitters.

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"Hey, Probie, welcome back… what is that?" Tony said as Tim tried to walk quickly by him to his desk.

Tim decided to play dumb. "What is what, Tony?"

"On your head, Probie." Tony looked concerned, and Tim felt a blush starting in his cheeks.

"Just a goose egg, Tony. I'm sure you've seen them before."

Tony stood up and stopped Tim before he could walk any further. He turned him around and began examining the lump. Ziva also came to join the examination.

"Guys, it's nothing," Tim said, backing away.

"How did it happen?"

"I bumped my head this morning," Tim said.

"On what? An anvil? This is huge," Tony said and began to probe at it.

Tim winced and pulled away. "No. Not on an anvil."

"Then, what?"

"Yes, McGee, how did you do this?" Ziva put in, with less concern, but no less interest.

Tim looked back and forth between the two of them. It was no use avoiding the topic, but maybe he could temporize without lying. "I…I lost my balance in the shower."

"How?" Tony asked. "Did you slip on the soap or something?"

"No."

"Was someone in the shower with you?" Ziva asked.

"No!" Tim said.

"Then, what happened?" Ziva asked. "Is it embarrassing? Is that why you do not want to answer?"

Tim sighed and walked over to his desk. He dropped his bag there and noticed that his badge and gun were not where he had dropped them so long ago. He wondered where they had gone to. If he had lost them, it would not look good. He looked up and saw Tony and Ziva still looking at him with questioning glances.

"I…" Tim looked anywhere but at them. "…I was kneeling by the tub and I looked into the water. I lost my balance and fell in, hitting my head on the side of the tub. It's not a big deal!"

Gibbs entered the bullpen at the moment and took in the surprised silence from Tony and Ziva. He dismissed it as unimportant.

"McGee!"

"Yes, Boss?" Tim immediately came to attention, grateful to have something else to think about.

"Jenny wants to have a meeting with us in her office."

"Right…right now?" Tim felt butterflies begin to flit around in his stomach again.

"No…in a year or two. Come on!" Gibbs strode away, leaving Tim to follow behind and Tony and Ziva to stare at each other.

"Why was he kneeling beside the tub?" Ziva asked.

"How could he lose his balance by looking into the water?" Tony returned.

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"She's ready for you, Agent Gibbs," Cynthia said very quickly as Gibbs walked by her without stopping. "I don't know why I bother."

Tim gave her a weak smile and shrugged. She grinned back and gestured for him to follow Gibbs.

Tim walked into the office, trying not to look as nervous as he felt.

Jenny's eyes flicked to the large lump on Tim's forehead, but she didn't comment. "Ah, welcome back, Agent McGee. You are looking much better than the last time I saw you."

"Thank you, Director. I'm feeling m-much better." That stupid stutter. I thought I'd gotten rid of it, Tim thought to himself furiously.

Jenny smiled. "Don't be so nervous, Agent McGee. I simply am officially welcoming you back. You are now on probation under Special Agent Gibbs. He will determine your duties and will report to me on your performance." She opened the drawer of her desk. "I believe these belong to you." She held out Tim's badge and gun.

Tim tried to keep the joy he felt off his face. He tried to look professional, but he couldn't help smiling as he took them back and felt their comforting weight in his hands. He suddenly realized that he should be saying something. He looked at Gibbs and Jenny and flushed at their bemused expressions.

"Thank you, Director Shephard," he said.

"You're welcome, Agent McGee. That will be all."

"Yes, ma'am." Tim turned and headed to the door.

"Agent Gibbs? Could I speak with you for a moment?"

Tim paused at Gibbs' sigh but then continued on out the door. Just before it closed, he heard Jenny say, "We're going to do this by the book, Jethro."

"By what book?" Gibbs returned, sounding annoyed. The door closed and Tim looked back worriedly. He was causing so much difficulty.

"Welcome back, Agent McGee."

Tim barely turned, his mind still on the words he had heard.

"Agent McGee?"

He jumped. "Th-Thanks, Cynthia."

"What happened to your head?"

Tim rubbed at it. "I just hit my head in the shower this morning. Clumsy."

"Nervous?"

"That, too."

"I wouldn't worry too much. This probation will most likely be just a formality. Gibbs certainly won't want to make too much of it."

Tim half-smiled. "That's probably true. I…" he started and then stopped. "Thanks, Cynthia."

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"By what book?"

"You know very well what I mean, Jethro. I expect regular reports from you during the next two months."

"You're making this more difficult than it should be, Jen," Gibbs said.

"No, I'm not. I'm doing this to make it easier on McGee. If we do everything exactly right, then he won't have any shadow left from this case. It can't follow him."

"Do you really think that matters to him?"

"Probably not right now, but it will in the future. By the book," she repeated.

"Fine." Gibbs turned around and began to leave.

"By the way…"

"What."

"What did happen to McGee's head?"

"He hit it on the side of his bathtub."

"Really. What were the circumstances that brought about that particular result?"

"I don't know, Jen. Perhaps you'd like me to slip him a note after class asking him."

Jenny rolled her eyes. "Perhaps his supervisor should find out."

"Perhaps." Gibbs left.

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"Tim! Welcome back!" Abby threw her arms around Tim as if she hadn't seen him in years.

"Hi, Abby."

"What happened to your head?"

"I just bumped it in the shower this morning. It's really embarrassing," Tim said, hoping to forestall any other comment. Luckily, Abby's mind was elsewhere and she didn't probe.

"I'm so glad you're down here. I need your help."

"Uh, well, I'm not sure…"

Abby punched him on the arm. "Not a word, McGee. You are back at work. I'll be watching you." She smiled to take the sting out of her words. "Now, I need you to help me with this. We're closing in on the guy, but I've had so many things piling up that I haven't had time to go through his hard drive. Please? Please? I won't let anything go wrong!"

Tim winced inwardly, but he didn't let it show. He didn't want anyone watching him, waiting for him to mess up again.

"Okay, Abby…as long as you tell Gibbs if he gets mad at me for it."

She waved her hand dismissively. "He won't get mad."

"Not at you."

"Not at you either. Come on, Tim!" she begged, her eyes wide and innocent.

Tim sighed and nodded. "Okay. Where is it?"

"Over there!"

Tim walked over to the computer, feeling…strange. He didn't like that Abby said she wouldn't let anything go wrong. His skills hadn't disappeared just because he was on probation. He didn't say anything about it though. He wouldn't lie if asked…that was probably the one thing that he agreed with his therapist about, and he didn't really like his therapist…or maybe it was just therapy he didn't like. The procedure was fairly familiar, i.e. you talk about what you did and how it made you feel. It wasn't new to him. He'd been to a psychiatrist before, but for a completely different reason…sort of. In any case, Dr. Leavitt had focused on how Tim's lying and his hiding things about himself had created the situation, rather than the situation itself. Tim needed to be more open about himself and not be afraid to let others see his mistakes. So, Tim wouldn't hide it if asked about it, but he wouldn't volunteer the information either. There was nothing in the rules that said he had to make his mind an open book for all to read. He had the right to privacy still.

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Gibbs watched Tim closely that first day…that whole first week. Of course, he had watched him before, made sure that he was doing things correctly, but during his initial training, Tony had been the one more or less in charge of making sure Tim didn't royally screw up…not that it was a vital task. Tim had come in knowing procedures and regulations cold. He was not one who needed to be told what was the right or wrong thing to do based on the rules. No, what Tim had had to learn was the necessity of feeling his way through a situation. He had needed experience, growth. He had gained that, slowly, with a few pitfalls along the way. So, watching him now was different. Gibbs wasn't really watching for mistakes or for relapses into his previous unacceptable behavior. He wasn't worried about that happening. He was watching to see what Tim had lost from his actions and to see how he was dealing with all consequences of the previous case. Jenny would get her reports, but the real purpose of this probation, at least as far as Gibbs was concerned, was to see how much Tim had changed.

Tim didn't elaborate on what had happened to his head during that first day. He was embarrassed by it, but he was also disturbed as well. Gibbs wasn't sure why, but he decided, as much as it galled him that Jenny might be right, that he needed to find out. However, he didn't ask the first day. He wanted to wait and see if Tim would make the decision on his own.

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When he came back from the lab, Tim felt like everyone was staring at him. It wasn't just the goose egg either. He had expected to get the second looks from that, but beyond that, he felt as though everyone was waiting for him to make another colossal mistake. He tried to tell himself that he was just being overly sensitive, but he couldn't ignore it and it made him edgy. Still, he didn't say anything, hoping that it would get better, that it was only because it was his first day back. The worst moment was when the arrest warrant for their case finally came through and the team got ready to leave.

Tim stood up to follow.

"McGee, you stay here," Gibbs said, shortly as Tony and Ziva headed to the elevator.

Tim almost protested, but he swallowed his complaint and nodded, sinking slowly back down into his seat. The bullpen seemed empty, even though the only people missing were Gibbs, Tony and Ziva. Tim stared at the empty desks, feeling more alone than he had in his apartment. He didn't know what he had been expecting really. He knew things couldn't get back to normal right away…maybe not ever. He sighed deeply and felt the slightest twinge in his chest. He was basically recovered physically. He couldn't say as much for his mental health.

"Hey, McGee. Where is everyone?"

"Out making the arrest," he said glumly.

"Why aren't you?" Abby asked.

"Gibbs told me to stay."

"Oh." Abby looked momentarily nonplussed, but then she shrugged. "He's probably just being careful. Your first day back and all."

"Yeah…you're probably right," Tim said. But careful about what?

"Hey, don't look like that, Tim. It's not what you're thinking."

"You're probably right," Tim said again…but it didn't make him feel any better.

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Tim went home that evening feeling that, on the whole, his first day could have gone better. He didn't do much, some computer work, but it kept him busy most of the day. It was just that he felt somehow…apart…separated from his team…and he didn't like it. He had worked so hard to fit in, to belong, that not belonging hurt. He looked at his typewriter and nodded. Typing would help. He made dinner, ate it quickly and sat down to begin the next chapter, but no words came.

"I don't need to hear the water. I remember it," Tim said to his typewriter. It sat silent and impassive. Tim felt a thrill of fear, much like he had on that day. "I don't need that." Still, the words wouldn't come. He picked up his typewriter and put it on his chair.

The two men stood in a motionaless motionless tableau, one afraid, the other…almost lost.

"Do you believe in destiny, Tibbs?"

"No."

"I do. Ibleeive believe we have connections, invivlbeinvisible connections with other people, with certain locations. Nothing we can do will ever eliminate them. The connections, once they are forged, last forever," McGregor said as he starredstared at the falls.

Tibbs, in turn, stared at McGregor, wishing that he would stop leaning so far over the railing, wishing that he understood just what this conversation was really about.

"And what is your destiny, McGregor?"

"I told you," McGregor anwseredanswered, his voice faint, his eyes fixed on a point somewhere beyond infinity. "My destiny is here, with these falls, with this water. It was me, you know."

"What was?"

"I'm the connection. I am the link between Amy, Tommy, Lisa and those…" his voice became briefly full of hatred, "…murderingswine thieves scumbags…and between them and the water."

Tim took a deep shuddering breath and pulled himself out of the story. He had never been this deeply involved in Deep Six. Of course, Tibbs and the others had been much more prominent than McGregor, and it was McGregor who was the focus in Rock Hollow…but that couldn't quite explain why he was making McGregor suicidal. He, Tim McGee, was not suicidal, just…bothered by some things. Still, his publisher couldn't complain that he was being too tame. The roaring of the water made him make more mistakes though. There were strikeouts all over the page.

Tim left his typewriter and walked to the bathtub once more. Slowly, almost without thought, he began to remove his clothing, never taking his eyes from the water. His dreams, even when they weren't of him dying, involved water. It was always there. He leaned over and put in the plug, but instead of getting in, he sat on the floor and stared the water as it gushed from the tap. What if he, or rather McGregor, was right? What if this was his destiny? He noticed the water getting closer to full and he crawled over to turn it off. He reached out to do it, but he couldn't. Instead, he took out the plug and left the water running. Then, he climbed into the tub and shivered at the cold water. He sat shaking, as much from fear as from cold, watching the tub empty, the water swirling down the drain. He leaned forward and caught some of the water in his cupped palms and then watched it leak out and join the rest of the rushing water. He put the plug in the drain once more and watched as the waterline crept ever higher. The higher it got, the more frightened he became. His breathing was loud and shaky. Still, he did not get out. He just sat and watched the water. At half full, he quickly turned the faucet off and sat, shaking, with his eyes closed, trying to fend off the panic. He couldn't and nearly leapt from the tub, onto the floor again. There he sat, his arms around his knees, shivering in the cold, no tears, just breathing.

Time passed unnoticed as Tim continued to stare at the bathtub, at the water still contained within it. He didn't notice the chill. He just sat and stared for hours, his body shaking, his mind blank. Finally, he seemed to come out of a trance and looked around the bathroom. He stumbled into his bedroom, put on his pajamas and fell into bed. He was asleep in seconds.

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Four days later…

"Will you all stop staring at me?" Tim shouted. He was standing in the middle of the bullpen, his face the picture of frustration. He had spent every night that week in the bathroom, and then, every day, he had come to work and dealt with the stares, the sidelong glances. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. "I'm not going to make the same mistake again. I'm not! Please, just stop…staring…" Tim said and trailed off as Gibbs approached. He took a deep shuddering breath and couldn't meet his gaze.

"My office, McGee," Gibbs said quietly. The new case that had come up had put his intention to speak with Tim earlier out of his head. He regretted that now.

"Yes, Boss." Tim walked to the elevator, Gibbs right behind him. He didn't bother to turn around when the elevator jolted to a stop. He was waiting for the headslap. It didn't come.

"You want to talk about it, McGee?"

Tim stared at the wall. "About what, Boss?"

"About whatever is bothering you, about how you got that bump on your head, about why you've been shivering all day. Any of those grab you?"

"I'm cold," Tim answered.

Gibbs smiled. "Yes, I figured that part out myself. Why?"

"It's winter, Boss."

"Not inside, it's not. In fact, most people have been complaining about it being too warm."

"Have they?"

"What is it, McGee?" Gibbs asked again.

"It's…it's…" Tim couldn't, for the life of him, figure out how to explain what had been happening to him this week. "People keep staring at me, like they're waiting for me to mess up again, and I…I can't stand the scrutiny. I'm…afraid…"

"Of what?"

"…that I am going to mess up again, but I never do as well when people are watching me anyway. Call it performance anxiety if you want. I just don't…like the stares."

"McGee, the only one watching you more than usual is me…and that's only because I have to."

"No, Boss. That's not true. Tony and Ziva keep glancing at me. They haven't been teasing me or pulling pranks. They keep…watching me."

Gibbs thought back. It was true. They had been watching Tim. He wondered why now that he thought of it. "Is that all?"

"No, Boss."

"Then, what?"

"I don't know…"

Gibbs waited.

"I don't know how to explain it."

"Explain what?"

Tim finally turned around. His hand was shaking as he brought it up to his forehead. "This. I can tell you exactly what happened, but I can't explain it."

"Try," Gibbs suggested. This was much like their confrontation in Abby's lab a month ago. Tim seemed just as uncomfortable and confused.

Tim looked past Gibbs. "It's…the water."

"The water? What do you mean?"

"I can hear it…all the time. I…I still dream about it. The sound of it, filling the tub, filling…" Tim stopped and took a deep breath, as if reminding himself that he still could, "…my lungs. I can't get it out of my head, Boss. It's always there, just on the edge of my hearing."

"What does that have to do with that knot on your head?"

"I was…in my bathroom," Tim said, still shaking, his words were even a little slurred. "I…it was about five in the morning. I had the water running. I looked at it. It seemed to suck me in. Fear and mortal terror are your friends. If they are not, then they are enemies to be feared. They are truly enemies. He said that to me…just before he put me in the tub. I couldn't even scream, Boss. I couldn't fight. I just had to…listen to the water, watch it rise. I could feel it killing me…I didn't want it. I could feel it…and I had no choice but to let it happen. I felt it. I saw it. I heard it." Tim was shaking so much now that Gibbs was surprised he could stand. His breathing was anything but calm. "I saw it cover my eyes. I couldn't blink. All the while it was running down my throat, into my lungs. All I could hear was the water. It's so cold. It's so loud. I can't breathe and I can't stop it. Every night…it's there. Every night. I don't have a choice. I can't do anything…"

Gibbs grabbed Tim by the shoulders. Tim's breathing was so erratic that he was sure Tim was going to pass out. "Breathe, McGee. Slowly." Tim didn't seem to hear. His eyes were open so wide that they seemed to be bulging out of his head. Gibbs pushed Tim onto the floor of the elevator and shoved his head between his knees. "Breathe."

Tim still seemed to be trying to speak. Gibbs caught occasional words, most of which involved water or breathing. He turned back on the elevator and sent it down to Autopsy.

"Come on, McGee. Breathe! Stop talking and breathe!" When the doors opened, he called out, "Ducky!"

"What is it, Jethro?" Ducky called back.

"Get in here!"

"Of course, Jethro. But what…" he stopped when he saw Gibbs kneeling beside Tim who was still trying to speak and gasp for breath at the same time. "Good gracious, what happened?"

"Flashback."

Ducky nodded and knelt beside Tim. "Don't worry, Timothy. This is completely normal." That wasn't exactly true, but it didn't really matter. "Remember where you are?" He waited for a response, but Tim was still mumbling incoherently and not listening. "You're at NCIS headquarters, currently sitting on the floor of Gibbs' 'office'. Don't panic. You are safe. The worst danger you face now is listening to me tell you another long drawn-out story." There was still no reaction. "Do you remember where you are, Timothy?" Again, he waited.

The gasps nearly covered up his response, but Tim managed to say, "The elevator."

"That's right. The elevator. Where is that elevator?"

Tim's breathing began to slow. "NC…IS Headquarters."

"Good. Now, take a deep breath, please." Tim did so. "Count to five…slowly and let it out as you do so." Again, Tim followed instructions. "Good. Very good. Again, please. Deep breath. Now, hold it for five counts. Let it out for five counts. Good. Do you remember where you are?"

"NCIS. Gibbs' 'office'," Tim answered promptly, if softly. "Near Autopsy."

Ducky smiled. "Yes, indeed. Not to worry. You are not about to be a customer."

He was rewarded by a smile from Tim's downturned face. He was still breathing deeply. The shakes were receding.

"Not yet, anyway," Tim whispered. He let out a rush of air, almost like a laugh, but not quite.

"Do you remember what just happened?"

Tim nodded, not lifting his head.

"Has this happened before?"

Tim shrugged. "Not…not exactly."

"Meaning?"

"I've remembered it…but not like that. It was different."

"What does your therapist have to say about it?"

"Nothing."

"You have been seeing a psychiatrist, correct?" Ducky asked.

"Yes."

"But?"

"But…we never really talked about…that. I told him about my nightmares and he said they were normal. We focused on my 'trust issues'."

"That's it?"

"Yes."

Ducky made a tsk-ing sound but didn't comment. "How are you feeling?"

"A little dizzy," Tim admitted.

"Well, I would say to stay here, but I'm sure someone would like to use this elevator. If you feel up to it, why don't we get you back to your desk?"

"Okay," Tim agreed. He allowed Gibbs to help him to his feet and then, braced himself against the wall of the elevator as it ascended once more. Gibbs didn't speak as he assisted Tim to his desk. Tony and Ziva both stood up, a question on their lips, but a single glance from Gibbs stopped them from speaking.

"Jethro," Ducky said.

After depositing Tim at his desk, Gibbs nodded and followed Ducky back onto the elevator. It closed after them. Tim had put his head down on his arms, his eyes closed, his face pale and sweaty. Tony looked over at Ziva who shrugged helplessly.

"Probie?" Tony asked softly.

For a few seconds, there was no movement from the body across the room. Then, Tim pushed himself into a sitting position. "What, Tony?" he asked, sounding exhausted.

"Are you all right?"

Tim tried to smile and said, "All right enough. My turn. Why are you guys always staring at me?"

"It is not for the reason you think, McGee," Ziva said. "We do not mistrust you."

Resting his head, with his hands on his temples, Tim asked, "Then, why? I feel like you two have been watching me, waiting for something to happen, ever since I got back."

"Do you remember the email you sent out to us, McGee?" Tony asked.

"Of course."

"Do you remember the voice mails you left for Ducky and Abby?"

"Yeah."

"Do you know what they sounded like to us?"

Tim lifted his head, his brow furrowed in confusion. "No."

Ziva stood and walked over to him. "McGee, it sounded like you were saying good-bye…permanently. It sounded like you had given up on yourself and on us."

For a moment, Tim just stared at her. Then, comprehension dawned on his face. "No! No, I never…that, that wasn't it…"

"You weren't thinking of suicide?"

"No!" Tim said, trying to put his recent chapter out his head. "No! I wasn't. I was just apologizing. That's all. I…I didn't think…" Tim flushed, bringing some much needed color back into his face. "I just…I thought that you would never want to speak to me again and email was the only way. You really thought I was suicidal?"

"You said that you were really sorry, that you had ruined everything, that you deserved what might happen to you. What does that sound like to you, McGee?"

"I…I didn't mean it that way," Tim said and dropped his head again. "I'm sorry."

Ziva put her hand on Tim's shoulder. "McGee, do not apologize. I am sorry for misunderstanding you, for making you feel unwelcome." She paused. "What did happen in the elevator?"

Tim looked at her hand. "A…A flashback."

The silence was so complete that it forced Tim to look up again. They were both just looking at him sympathetically…not pityingly. They had been there before and understood that kind of thing.

"Sorry, Probie. We should have mentioned it before…and next time you apologize, try not to sound so dismal, okay?" Tony said.

Tim smiled tiredly. "Will do."

Gibbs suddenly stalked off the elevator. He walked up to Tim, who straightened immediately. "McGee, what's the name of that shrink you've been seeing?"

"Uh…Leavitt…um…Brian Leavitt. Why?"

"Take it easy this weekend. Your session with him tonight is cancelled. Can you drive?"

"Yes…" Tim said hesitantly. "Boss…I don't…"

"We'll explain it to you on Monday. Just relax." He started to walk away again and then turned back, seemed to take in Tim's anxious expression and added, "You're not in trouble, McGee. Don't worry about that…if it happens again, you can call me."

"Th-thanks, Boss," Tim stammered. He looked at Tony and Ziva who shook their heads and didn't say anything.

Tim left two hours later. As he got into his car, he thought, Well, I can't say my first week back was uneventful.