Chapter 24

The next few days were full of anticipation, the desire and the need to get Tim somewhere he could be safe, somewhere he could get the time he needed to recover. Preparing the plane to jostle Tim as little as possible occupied Ducky's time, while Gibbs was planning on the best way to get Tim safely ensconced in the CIA safe house. Tony and Ziva spent most of their time with Tim himself. They figured that their help wasn't really needed in the preparations, although they talked with Ducky and Gibbs every night about what was going on. ...and Tim needed company. They were carefully not talking about the problematic stuff, but at the same time, it was always on their minds.

Finally, about a week after Tim's surgery, he showed some interest in what was coming next.

"When are we leaving?" he asked.

"Soon," Ziva said. "When Dr. Khouri decides it is safe."

"Safe," Tim repeated softly. "Nothing is safe...not anymore."

"You can see again, McGee," Tony said. "You're getting better."

"I'm not walking yet, Tony. I'm not even...thinking about walking again...because when I do, it makes me want to cry because I can't touch my feet without hurting them."

"But you can see," Ziva said.

"Yeah...I can see...and I'm glad, but that doesn't make me safe. Nothing will. Not anymore."

"You're wrong, McGee. You can be just as safe as any other person is."

Tim looked at Tony, his left eye still half closed.

"How are you going to guarantee that, Tony? I was supposed to be safe before. I was supposed to be safe when I got hit by a car and had my speech taken away. I was supposed to be safe when I went to that place in Montana. How am I going to be safe again? How are you going to keep me safe? How is anyone going to do that? They're not! Now, Gibbs wants me to go to some safehouse and that's somehow going to work. It's not! It can't! Nothing is going to be safe enough for me to feel like I'm safe." Tim bumped his foot against the railing of the bed, hissed and closed his eyes at the resurgence of the pain. "How...are you...going to stop me from hurting?"

Tony took hold of Tim's ankle (not his foot) and, to Tim's shock, began to rub just his ankle. He opened his eyes as the pain faded. It wasn't that Tony's ministrations were actually doing anything to ease the pain...but they helped all the same. He looked at his leg and then he looked at Tony.

"I can't stop the pain, Tim. I wish I could. I wish I could just take it on me to give you a break from it, but I can't. None of us can...but we can help you if you'll let us. You don't have to deal with all this on your own. Really. You don't."

"But you can't really get it."

"Must we get it?" Ziva asked. "Is that required to help you?"

"I...I don't know, but it feels like...like no one can and that's..." Tim sighed. "It just sucks is all."

"Yeah, it does. I don't like the way things are, the way they've been, but it can get better."

"How do you know that?" Tim asked.

"I...well, I don't, but I feel like it has to because things have sucked for a long time, Tim, and we're due for something good."

"I don't think things work like that, Tony," Tim said. "Sometimes things just keep sucking. ...and then, you die."

"That's not gonna happen this time, Tim. For one thing, I have it on good authority that this safe house is really nice."

"Oh really? How is that happening?"

"Not sure but Gibbs has a lot of connections."

Tim looked back and forth between Tony and Ziva.

"How? How is he doing this?"

"Don't ask me. Ask him. I don't pretend to get how Gibbs does what he does," Tony said.

"How much longer?"

"Here?" Ziva asked. "I think only another day or so. Dr. Ali says that it will take more time before they know if surgery is needed for your feet, but Ducky is trying to make sure that you will be as comfortable as possible on the plane."

"The vibrations will hurt," Tim whispered.

"Yes. He is seeing what he can do about that."

"Drugs?" Tim asked.

Ziva smiled. "Perhaps. Would you prefer that?"

"I don't know. I'm...kind of afraid of what I'll see when I wake up."

"Well, I know that I'm not the most beautiful sight in the world, Probie, but at least you know what you're getting."

"Except that..."

"What?"

Tim managed a weak smile. "...you're being way too nice to me."

Tony laughed. "Well, I have to wait until you can fight back. It's not fair to kick a Probie when he's down."

"It's going to take a long time for my feet to stop hurting."

"I know, and I'll be there."

"How?" Tim asked. "You can't take that much time off work."

"If they want to fire me, they can."

Tim looked at Ziva and then at Tony. "Why are you doing this? Risking all this?"

"Because...you are worth it, Tim," Ziva said. "We would not do it if we did not think it was worth any risk."

"I don't...want you to get hurt because of me again."

"We're not in any danger of that, McGee," Tony said. "...and if you'll let us help you, everyone will be better off."

"I just...I can't believe that things are going to work out anymore. I can't."

Throwing caution to the winds, Ziva put her arms around Tim and hugged him gently.

"That is why you have us. To believe for you...until you can believe for yourself."

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

"Director Carew, Dr. Hicks is here."

"Good. Send him in."

Carew leaned back in his chair. This was going to be kind of a crap shoot, but he thought he could maneuver things to work out as he wanted them to.

The door opened revealing Dr. Woodrow Hicks, a CIA psychiatrist, who excelled at his work...and was not above moving around as needed.

"Director," he said.

"You ready to go on another assignment?"

"Yeah. I've been twiddling my thumbs for three weeks. I'd started wondering whether or not you were going to use me again."

"I was keeping you in reserve."

"For what?"

"I'd like you to make contact with the hospital in Jackson, Wyoming."

"Why?"

"So that you can be the referral for one Timothy McGee when he gets there."

Dr. Hicks smiled. "He's already rejected CIA psychiatrists."

"I know...but he hasn't met you before."

"Ah, I see. Why are you doing this, Director?"

"He's a valuable asset, and he needs the help. He won't be any use without getting his head on straight."

Dr. Hicks nodded. "What's his current status?"

"In layman's term, since I'm a layman, bad. He's been tortured and is currently recovering from very serious injuries. In addition..."

"There's the last few years of his life that's never been addressed?"

"Exactly."

"What makes you think he'll talk to a shrink at all?"

"Because he knows he needs to, and he'll think he's getting around the CIA restriction if he does it while he's in the safe house."

"You seem pretty sure."

"I'm approximately... 85 percent positive."

Dr. Hicks looked at Carew over steepled fingers...which meant he was evaluating. Carew didn't like getting evaluated, but he was not exempt from the requirements of the other CIA employees...and Dr. Hicks was one of the few he trusted for himself.

"This is about more than the CIA, isn't it."

"Isn't it always?"

"With you? Absolutely. Why him?"

"I might need his help one day."

"Might?"

Carew laughed. "Probably will."

"Do you already know that you will?"

"Not for sure."

"A percentage?"

"Currently...I'm at about 65 percent."

"He there yet?"

"No. I wanted to give you a bit of time. He won't be ready to ask for a shrink for a few days after he gets there anyway...and you'll have to be willing to make house calls."

"Why?"

"Falaqa."

Dr. Hicks' expression hardened slightly and he shook his head. He swore in a very undignified manner. Carew knew why. Dr. Hicks had scars on his own feet from his younger days. There was a reason he had chosen to work for the CIA.

"All right. I'll take myself out there today. You've already made arrangements, I'm guessing?"

"Yes, I have."

"Always anticipating."

"If it hadn't been you, it would have been someone else. Not as good perhaps, but still useful."

"You could admit to having feelings, you know. I'm bound by doctor-patient confidentiality with you as I am with everyone."

"Not while I'm in this position. When my inevitable ouster comes, then I can drop the mask. Not until then."

"Others get by without a permanent mask."

"Others aren't the director of the CIA."

It was an old conversation. Dr. Hicks nodded and stood.

"I'll keep you informed...but once I take him on..."

Carew nodded. "Confidentiality. I don't much care what he tells you...as long as he gets the help he needs."

"Understood. I'll get going."

"Good luck."

"And to you," Dr. Hicks replied and walked out of the office.

Carew leaned back once more in his chair and smiled. As much as he could do, he had done. Now, it was just a matter of being patient. ...and doing the rest of his job.

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

Two days later...

After a lot of planning, they were ready for Tim to go. Tim had stopped protesting, but he still wasn't especially excited about any of the preparations. He was simply resigned that he had no choice in the matter. They stopped trying to get him to be excited. Instead, they just focused on getting him out. That was the most important thing right now.

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

"Jethro?"

Gibbs stopped at Tim's door and turned toward the voice. It was Imād.

"Yeah?"

"You are leaving," he said.

"In the morning, yes."

Imād paused and then walked closer, shaking his head. "You are leaving now," he said in a low voice.

Gibbs looked at him in surprise. "Why?"

"We have stopped others from knowing Tim is here. That is no longer true. People know. To many, it does not matter...but it is not them you must avoid. It is those who do not want him here. Suhayl is preparing your transport now. You must go now to keep the peace."

Gibbs wanted to protest that they'd done nothing wrong, that they'd followed every rule set them...but he knew that, to a small subset of society, it wouldn't matter. All that mattered was who they were and where they were from. That was enough to condemn them.

"Okay. I'll need to tell the others."

Again, Imād shook his head. "No. They are being told."

"By whom?"

"By your driver. He is bringing them here. You will all go together to the airport and leave here. Safely."

Although it galled him to leave like a criminal in the middle of the night, Gibbs knew there was no point in trying to leave at their scheduled time.

"Our flight plan doesn't have us leaving until tomorrow."

"You will be safe on your plane...and I think Suhayl will make it possible to leave tonight."

Gibbs smiled. He was glad Suhayl was on their side. He would be a formidable enemy. Imād returned the grin and nodded.

"You may tell Tim that you are leaving as soon as your other friends arrive."

Gibbs nodded. "Thank you. For all that you've done...for Tim."

"We owe him a debt. Life in return for life. Nothing less would be enough."

"Still...thank you."

Imād inclined his head in acceptance and walked down the hall. Gibbs watched him go and then walked into Tim's room. Tim was asleep. Every day saw him looking better, but his feet were still in their protective casings. It was a constant reminder of how much Tim had suffered...and how far he had to go.

"McGee?"

Tim came awake with a quick inhalation, both eyes opening, looking for danger. Then, he saw Gibbs and closed his eyes with deliberately-slow inhalations.

"We're leaving now."

"Now?" Tim asked, eyes coming open again. His left eye still didn't open completely, and they knew his vision was still blurry...but it was great to see both of his eyes.

"Yeah. Suhayl thinks it will be safer to get out tonight rather than wait until tomorrow."

"Okay," Tim said, his voice soft...to hide his fear.

"We're getting you out. As soon as everyone gets here, we're leaving."

Tim swallowed and nodded. "Okay."

Gibbs walked over and sat beside Tim in silence for a few minutes. Then, the door opened and Imād came in, bearing clothing.

"Tim, this is for you. These pants will open wide for your feet and will be better than what you now wear."

Tim smiled. "Shokran, Imād."

Imād smiled back. "'Afwan, Tim. I will leave you to change...and I will watch for your friends."

He withdrew.

"I...don't know if I can manage this on my own, Boss," Tim said, looking embarrassed.

Gibbs just nodded and took the pants. They unzipped from ankle to knee. He opened them up and then looked at Tim.

"You're going to have to sit up, McGee," he said, keeping his voice completely neutral.

Tim nodded and pushed himself upright. He took a deep breath and slid his feet to the edge of the bed. His eyes closed as the movement brought the pain back. Tears seeped out under his eyelids. Gibbs did his best to get the pants on without touching his feet, but he knew he jostled them slightly. Tim's hands were tightly clenching the bedsheet and his breath came in short spurts.

"Okay, McGee. I think you're going to have to hold onto me to get these all the way on."

A blush suffused Tim's face but he didn't speak. He just reached out and put his arms around Gibbs' neck. Gibbs then lifted him up and pulled the pants securely around his waist.

"There," he said, lowering Tim back to the bed.

Tim let go instantly.

"You can manage your shirt?"

Tim opened his eyes and nodded.

"Good. Go ahead."

Tim shucked the hospital gown and pulled on the shirt. Maneuvering around his broken arm wasn't easy, but it was easier than his feet. It was a fairly typical tourist shirt with Arabic writing on it in the shape of a tiger.

"Not bad, McGee. You almost look like a tourist."

Still embarrassed, Tim managed a lopsided smile. "If it weren't for my face, my arm and my feet, right?"

"Yeah."

The door opened, letting in Tony, Ziva and Ducky. They were all carefully unconcerned by the change in schedule.

"Hey, Probie, nice shirt."

"Thanks. Imād brought it."

"He has good taste."

Tim laughed a little. "Yeah."

The door opened one more time...this time revealing Suhayl himself.

"We go," he said.

The others had clearly been brought up to speed. They just nodded. Suhayl gestured and Imād moved to Tim's bed. He disconnected all the monitors and IVs. Then, he began pushing it to the door. Gibbs joined him without being asked. The others had all their luggage. Quickly, they got down to the exit. Tim was loaded into an ambulance. ...and the others crowded inside as well. There was very little room.

Suhayl and Imād were in front, driving.

Every jolt brought tears to Tim's eyes...and eventually he closed them tightly, clenching his teeth against the pain.

Ziva took his hand and he squeezed it tightly.

"You...know what this...reminds me of?" he asked.

"What?" Ziva asked.

"Being carried...through the desert on a litter...trying to tell myself that it was a good thing...that the pain was going to lead to something better. ...is that what I can tell myself this time?"

"Yes. It is. We should be at the airport soon."

"Good."

It took another ten minutes for the ambulance to stop moving...but Tim didn't get much of a chance to recover. Suhayl opened the back of the ambulance, gestured for them all to get out and then he, Imād and Tony pulled Tim out of the ambulance. They rolled him through an entrance to the airport. When they got checked in, he was instantly moved from the gurney to a wheelchair.

"You are this way," Suhayl said, leading them along.

Gibbs couldn't help wondering how a nomad from southern Saudi Arabia had enough influence to get all this done.

They reached the runway for the private planes. Gibbs gestured for the others to go. He looked at Suhayl.

"How are you doing all this?" he asked.

Suhayl smiled. "I learned much in my years of schooling in the West. One thing I learned was the value of...what is that idiom you use? ...not putting all my eggs in one basket. The desert is my home. My family and my wandering is what I do when I wish to be home. ...but when it is time to work, I will leave my desert home."

"And do what?"

"Other things. Things which allow me to help you as I have. ...and I have learned much from you and more from Tim. Things which have changed my view of the West. Corruption is not only to be found in the Middle East, it seems."

"No, it's not."

Suhayl smiled knowingly. "It is up to all of us to do what is necessary to make the world what we wish it to be. We cannot let the world happen to us. We must happen to the world. A scientist once described himself with these words: 'I am become death, the destroyer of worlds.' I do not destroy worlds, but I do not accept all that I see. I destroy the false worlds of others." He gestured. "You may now go back to your world, Jethro. My debt is paid. You may remind Tim that he owes me nothing."

"I'll do that."

Gibbs hesitated and then put out his hand.

"Thank you, Suhayl."

Suhayl looked at his hand and then at him, scrutinizing him and then nodding. He took the proffered hand and shook it firmly.

"You are welcome, Jethro."

They walked out to the tarmac together. Tim was waiting.

"Suhayl," he said.

"Fi Amanillah," Suhayl said.

"Yes," Imād said, nodding. "Fi Amanillah."

"What does that mean?"

"May God protect you," Imād said. "On your journey and at your destination."

Gibbs looked at Imād and then at Suhayl. He could see the difference between them. Imād was much simpler in his outlook. Not naive, but simpler. Gibbs would wager that Imād didn't know what it was that Suhayl did. Suhayl had seen the best and worst the world had to offer. Whatever it was that he did for "work", he had seen a lot. Tim shook their hands and wished them both well.

"Are you ready to go, McGee?" he asked.

Tim looked at the plane and then at Imād and Suhayl, his saviors.

"Salām 'alaykum," he said, tripping over the syllables a bit. "You did so much for me."

"You have done much for us," Suhayl said. "We have no debt between us...only respect."

Tim nodded. "Thank you," he said one more time.

"You are very welcome. I would not suggest a return to Saudi Arabia, but you will be remembered."

"By all," Imād added. "Wadā'an."

Finally, Tony and the copilot lifted Tim onto the plane.

"We will not see each other again," Imād said, "but we will hope for happiness and recovery for Tim."

Gibbs smiled his thanks and got onto the plane, relieved when he felt the engines start up. Suhayl had exerted his mysterious influence and got them out early.

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

"Well?" Imād asked, waving at Tim.

"Now, we go home," Suhayl said. "Our part is over, and I miss my family."

Imād smiled and nodded.

They left the airport together.

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

Tim watched out the window and waved to Imād and Suhayl. He had felt safe with them, knowing that they would do their best to help him. There were so many people who had helped him in various situations in the last few years. Then, he looked at his friends on the plane with him. He smiled at Ziva as she emerged from the bathroom, wearing her regular clothes once again. She returned his smile but didn't speak.

Then, the vibrations of the engines began and the expected pain began to increase. Ducky came over quickly.

"Timothy?"

"I can't do this, Ducky...not for the whole time."

"We expected as much. We wanted to keep you awake until we knew what would be happening. These will probably put you to sleep, but you will feel very little pain."

It didn't take any thought. Tim took the pills and swallowed them.

"Someone will be with you when you wake up again," Ducky promised.

"Could you stay here until I fall asleep?" Tim asked as the plane began to taxi for takeoff.

"Of course." Ducky offered his hand. Tim grabbed it and held on tightly.

The plane took off a few minutes later, but Tim was awake to feel it all. Finally, he felt the pain lessen.

Before they reached cruising altitude, he was asleep. Saudi Arabia now behind him.