Chapter 25

Tim's first night alone came months after his rescue, months after the final demise of his captor, weeks after his rejoining reality. Ducky had to argue vociferously for it, against the well-founded worries of the NCIS team. Jimmy unexpectedly joined in the support...and perhaps because his voice was so unexpected in the debate, Tim carried the day. ...and it was okay...not perfect, but okay...

"How many nights did you manage it, Tim? How many before you called someone?"

"Five. Only five."

"Not only."

"Five. Five nights. The nightmares..."

"...are still there. That's to be expected. What did you do in response?"

"I tried to deal with them myself, but I had to call for help."

"Whom did you call?"

"Ghostbusters?"

A smile.

"Ziva. She was closest."

Two steps forward. One step back. Sometimes, it was five steps forward, one step back. Sometimes, it was no steps forward and two steps back...but always, there was a cumulative forward motion...

"Tim, what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to ask you something, Abby."

"At work?"

"Yeah."

"What?"

"Do you still have the chair?"

No need to ask what "the chair" was.

"Why?"

"I want to see it."

"Why?"

"Please, Abby, just answer me."

"Yes. It's in the evidence lockup."

"Will you come with me to see it?"

Abby put down the form she was signing. "If you tell me why."

Tim nodded. "It's been a long time. It's always there in the back of my mind. Always. Even now. I need to...to see what it was. I never did. I was only a part of it. I never saw myself separate. In my nightmares it's still that way. It's a part of me that I can't ignore. I can never ignore. I need this, Abby."

Abby looked at him...and then, she nodded reluctantly. "I don't like it, Tim, but okay."

Moments. Tim sometimes thought of his life as consisting of discrete events, moments that stood out amidst a wash of background noise. It wasn't that he didn't remember the other parts, just that they didn't mean as much as those important moments that took up so much space in his head, as short as they were...

"It's frightening. It's evil. ...but it's just a chair." Tim walked around it, taking in every inch. His eyes were roving over the metal, the straps, the wiring, the speakers.

"Yeah, I agree."

"With which part?"

"All of it. It's hard to believe that he could do so much evil with something so simple."

"I still don't like sitting in chairs with arms. I can...but I don't like to." Tim rubbed his arms. There were faint scars from the ulcerated skin. Tentatively, he reached out. His hand stopped just short of touching it. He laughed apprehensively. "I'm afraid to touch it."

"You don't have to."

"Yes, I do. I need to...to see it, to know."

"Do you need help?"

Tim straightened his shoulders and shook his head. "No. I can do it." He reached out again...and touched the back of the chair. The touch became a trailing caress as he walked around to the front, fingers tracing the lines of the device used to break him.

"Tim? Are you all right?"

A shudder rippled through Tim's body and he took a deep controlled breath. His eyes closed and the touch became a grip and then, abruptly, Tim let go of the chair and backed away, his eyes opening.

"Tim?"

"I'm okay. It's still so real, Abby. So real. So...so close."

Abby walked over and hugged him.

"I know. That's why you have us."

"I know."

Steps forward that didn't seem like steps forward in the beginning, but became important. Vital to his healing. The healing that continued, oh so slowly...

"Agent McGee, I'm surprised to see you here," Vance commented.

"I guess you've had to deal with my absence for a long time, Director," Tim said.

"I'm all right with that."

"I want to come back to work. Just a little bit, just part time...desk duty. I'm not ready for more, but I want to get back to my normal life."

"How much do you want?"

"You're all right with that?" Tim was surprised at his easy capitulation.

"Agent McGee, you have fought back from something that has destroyed many people in this world. If you truly want to come back to NCIS, I would be a fool to begrudge you the opportunity."

Vance was treated to one of Tim's rare smiles, this one a bit wistful.

"I do want to come back. Things will never be the same. I'll never be the same, but I'm getting to the point where...where I can accept the things that have changed."

"Are you of the opinion that you'll be able to return to field status eventually?"

"I'm hoping to. I think I can...eventually. If you have the patience to let me...I want to take those steps I'll need. They have to be small. They have to be if I'm going to make it."

Vance leaned forward across his desk. "Agent McGee, you take as much time, as small steps as you need. We will be delighted to have you back, no matter how long it takes."

Another smile, less wistful...but still tinged with that darkness that he would never fully shake.

"Thank you, sir. Thank you. I can't tell you how much I–"

"No, Agent McGee. Good sense needs no thanks. I wish you only the best."

"I don't need the best. I just need...my life."

Still time passed. It couldn't stop passing. Minutes to hours. Hours to days. Days to weeks. Weeks to months...

"McGee?"

Tim was staring blindly at his monitor, rubbing his pinky, holding it gently in his left hand.

"McGee?"

Tim looked up, aware that he hadn't been paying attention.

"You all right, Probie?"

"Yeah...no...yeah."

"Which is it, McGee?"

Tim shrugged and tried to smile, but the smiles didn't often come easily anymore.

"Can I make it?"

"Make it where?" Ziva asked, furrowing her brow.

"Course you can, Probie," Tony said in the same instant.

"Some days...like today...I'm not so sure."

"Why today?"

"I keep looking for him. I keep feeling like he's just behind me, just out of sight, watching me." Tim shuddered and resumed rubbing at his pinky.

Ziva stood and walked over to Tim's desk. "He is not," she said gently.

"I know. Doesn't stop me from thinking about it, though."

Months. How had it become so many months? It didn't seem possible that so much time had gone by. And yet it had. It had been nearly a year. How had the days turned so swiftly to months passing? No matter how. They had. Time had flown by. Time. A thing which had been stolen from him. Time. Moments which had taken place outside it. Time. A precious commodity which he would never again take for granted. Time...

"This is a probationary reassignment to field status," Vance said, his voice firm but not unsympathetic. "The next case which is called in, you will be a part of the investigation. Let's test the waters."

"See if I sink or swim?" Tim asked. Even nearly a year later, he didn't smile much. That shadow in his eyes would always be there to some extent. One simply could not brush off the experiences he'd had.

"I don't think you'll sink...Agent McGee," Vance said.

"How much further are we carrying this analogy?" Tim asked, a faint twinkle momentarily lighting up his eyes.

"How much further do you think we can?"

Tim's lips twitched. "Well, if you don't think I'll sink, I suppose you think there's a danger that, instead of getting an Olympic swimmer, you're going to get the loser kid who can only dog paddle to the edge after doing a cannonball into the swimming pool."

Vance smiled...and even Tim's solemn expression gave way to a grin.

"Yes, I suppose that works, although it's stretching the analogy to its limits."

Tim's smile faded as if it had never been. "I can't tell you that you won't be faced with that kind of situation, Director. I can't because I don't know."

"However...?"

"However, Dr. Sakota...and I think that I'm ready...if you do."

"I wouldn't be putting you on probationary status if I didn't, Agent McGee."

"Thank you, sir."

He'd gone through every hoop ever set up to make sure that an agent could still perform up to standards. He had checked out at the firing range. He qualified. He had kept up his computer skills and had been using them for the last six months. He'd been cleared, pending any new issues, by his psychiatrist. Although he suffered from occasional headaches which had never managed to be cured, they weren't debilitating, merely annoying. The one unquantifiable aspect was...his spirit. Tim himself, his very essence, was the question mark. Was it up to the stresses of being a field agent? Was this something he really wanted or was it just a need to get back to normal life?

"I missed wearing this," Tim said softly as he pulled on his official NCIS gear, the hat, the jacket, the camera around his neck.

"It's very slimming, Probie. I can see why," Tony said. Thankfully, they were used to Tim's continued gaunt look. He didn't look starved anymore, but he had that intense expression which spoke volumes about his past experiences.

Tim smiled in response.

"McGee...photos!" Gibbs ordered...but he smiled as he gave the command, smiled because it was nice to be able to say it, nice to know that he could. "DiNozzo, bag and tag. Ziva, help Ducky out. He's flying solo today."

The team scattered to obey...and for once, Tim's smile didn't fade. It stayed.

The probationary status had lasted a month before Tim was permanently reinstated as an NCIS special agent. He had made no fuss about it, not about the length, nor about the reinstatement. He had greeted the news with a quiet smile, one full of gratitude, not only for his full return. He had been grateful for what that return symbolized inside him.

"Come on, McGee! We've got to celebrate!" Tony said.

"Yes, McGee. This is an important event. It should be acknowledged."

"I've been working for weeks already. It's not that important," Tim said.

"It is, though, Timothy. It is important to acknowledge momentous occasions, even when the moment is merely a symbol of something that already exists."

Tim looked around at them. What they didn't know, what he couldn't possibly find the words to explain to them was that their presence, the very fact that they were all there with him, all rooting for him...that was far more important than the news from on high that he was approved as a field agent once more.

"If acknowledgment is that important, Ducky," Tim said, smiling, "I suppose I can tolerate a celebration."

"Yes! Party time!" Tony said.

Abby hugged Tim tightly. "Besides, how often do you have Tony offering to pay?" she asked slyly.

"Hey, I never said that!"

Tim actually laughed, a sound much more rare than his smiles.

"Something small, though," he said. "I'd rather not have a big party."

"How about dinner at my place?" Gibbs offered.

Tim looked at him and nodded. "That sounds nice."

It was. It was nice and it would have been nice had Gibbs suggested that they stand out in Willard Park and stare at each other for an hour. ...because they would have been there. All of them. That was all that mattered.