Chapter 26

"...well, if you feel that I could be of any service, you can certainly call on me at any time."

"Thank you, Dr. Mallard."

"You are sure that you can't tell me anything that Timothy shared with you?"

"I'm sorry, but he wouldn't tell me unless I promised to keep it to myself...but it's not anything that you could imagine it to be. What we're hoping is that, with time, Tim will be able to trust other people. We don't know what to do about what he said...except hope...and convince him to trust someone else."

"You think he will trust me?"

"That's what we're hoping."

"What about the others?"

"I know getting here from DC is a long trip, but as often as any of you can come, we'd appreciate it...even if Tim isn't going to yet."

"I'll pass the word along."

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

Over the next few months, that's what happened. Sam and Naomi worked on getting Tim to trust. They didn't make many comments on what he had said, but they stressed the fact that they wanted to help him get better, that whatever had happened, they would be there for him. Without explaining Tim's story, they also invited the NCIS people to come around more often, asking them to help in preparing Tim to go back to DC eventually...if Tim was ever ready for it. They did all they could, and yet Tim remained withdrawn.

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

The knock on the door momentarily attracted Tim's attention...but only for a moment. He looked at his mother and then walked back up the stairs to his room. He knew that his parents weren't sure what to do about what he had said...and so they didn't really seem to be doing anything at all. Tim could admit to himself that he had harbored a false hope that perhaps they would know what to do about his experience...but, of course, that would require that they believe him first, and he knew they couldn't.

He heard the door open and a muffled voice. Male, but he couldn't discern more than that. Tim sat on his bed in the darkness...or at least the dimness of his room. The days passed in a haze for him. He didn't know what day of the week it was. He didn't know more than that it was light outside meaning it was daytime. Beyond that, he didn't know...and although he'd tried, he couldn't bring himself to care either. It was just too hard to fight this neverending battle against that part of himself that was not human and worry about the human world. The human world was full of things like that: dates, hours, deadlines...people. While he knew that he had cared about all that before, he also knew that he didn't now...not because he didn't want to but because he couldn't.

Someone knocked on his door.

Tim debated whether or not he wanted anyone to come in, no matter who it was.

"Probie! Come on! Let me in!"

Tim stood and walked to the door. He opened it.

"Hi," he said.

"Hey, McGee," Tony said, almost gently. "Mind if I talk to you for a while?"

Tim shrugged and sat back down on his bed.

"Why don't we go outside, then?"

"Because it won't make any difference," Tim said.

"Difference to what?"

"To me."

"Well, it does to me. It's like you're in a tomb in here, Probie."

Tim looked around. Tony had no idea. His whole world felt like a tomb.

"Tim?"

The tone of Tony's voice made Tim focus on him.

"Yeah?"

"Come on." It was gently cajoling, not demanding.

"Okay."

Tim got up and followed Tony out to the backyard. He looked around at the trees, the bushes...so much greenery. Where were the rocks? The wind-scoured scrubby grasses? Where–?

"Tim!"

Hands on his arms and Tim blinked a few times. Tony's face was in front of him.

"I'm not on Sule Skerry," Tim whispered.

"I know. You're in Ohio."

Tim stepped back, away from Tony and walked to the middle of the yard.

"What did you want?"

"Man, McGee, I don't know," Tony said, rubbing at his hair. "I want to help you, but I don't know how."

"You can't. It's okay. I don't expect you to."

"I expect me to, and it's not okay."

"Yes, it is. No one can help me. Not anymore."

"Who could before?"

Eira sprang to his mind and Tim winced at the stab of pain that memory brought to him, a memory of her soothing away his pain...the reminder of all he could never have. He sank to the ground with a groan and wrapped his arms around his head.

"Talk to me, Tim," Tony said, his voice close beside him. "How can you know that I can't help when you won't tell me what's wrong?"

"Just...Just tell me it will go away...even though I know it won't," Tim said through clenched teeth. "It always comes back. Always. Always."

"It will go away, Tim. I don't know how or when, but it will. It's got to."

"Why?"

"Because this...this isn't you and you need to get back to being you again...and you will."

Tim shook his head. That would never happen, even if he could win his fight. He would never be back to that.

"Isn't there anything else I can do?"

Tim shook his head and felt the tears building up. Which pain was worse? His physical pain or his heartache from the loss of Eira? It didn't matter. Neither pain could be removed by some friendly encouragement.

There was a long silence and then, Tony spoke again.

"You know what, Tim? That's okay. If I can't do anything to help, then I can help you pass the time. How about that?"

"Okay. How?" Tim whispered.

"Movies, Tim! How else? Won't fix anything, but it'll pass the time. How about it?"

Tim opened his tear-filled eyes, looked at Tony's grinning face and then nodded and allowed Tony to help him stand.

They spent the afternoon making their way through the Star Trek movies. Tony ended up staying the night and leaving the next morning.

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

"Tim?"

"Yeah?"

"It was very nice of your friend to come."

"Yeah."

"Tim..."

"No."

Naomi sighed. "All right."

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

Another day. Another visit. Another try. Was it going to work? Probably not. Ducky had come often to talk to Tim, but had never succeeded in breaking through into the other world Tim spent most of his time living in. Ziva came. Abby came. Jimmy came. Gibbs came. They came singly or in pairs, and not once had they managed to get Tim to reveal what had happened to him, what was causing his continued anguish and pain.

...but that was no reason not to keep trying. A few weeks after Tony's visit, Ziva, Abby, Jimmy and Tony decided that they would all come together and talk to Tim. They had formulated a plan they thought would be sure to help Tim gain some ground. Would it go all the way? No, but it might help Tim take even a single step.

"Are you sure this will actually help?" Jimmy asked. "I mean, it's kind of weird."

"You're the expert on weird," Tony said. "I think it's a great idea."

"Of course you do," Ziva said. "It was your idea."

Abby laughed and looked at the house as they headed for the front door.

"It can't really make things worse than they are," she said. "I think it will help. Tim needs to know that we always cared and...and we can talk to him about what we've learned about him. I think it matters." Without waiting, she hurried up her pace and knocked on the door.

There was a long wait and they wondered if Sam and Naomi had remembered that they were coming. Then, Ziva saw the living room curtains twitch.

"He is watching us," she murmured.

"What could have done this to him?" Abby asked.

No one got a chance to answer because the door opened and Tim was standing there, that strange look in his eyes, his almost-inhuman presence. He'd gained back a lot of the weight he'd lost, but he was still skinny...and for some reason, his hair was still long. He wasn't cutting it although he was clearly shaving.

"Hey, McGee," Tony said quickly. "We're invading. Is that okay?"

Tim nodded mutely and let them come in. They followed quietly as he led them to the living room.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Well...we're giving you some stuff," Tony said.

"It's not really a gift because it was your stuff," Jimmy added. "...but we only took it because your parents said we could!"

"Jimmy! You're ruining it!" Abby said.

"Ruining what?" Tim asked, his eyes flicking from one to another.

"Well...your parents asked us to help them clean out your apartment...you know...after they thought you were dead," Tony said, a little uncomfortably.

"Yeah. They told me," Tim said without any indication of how he felt about it...if he felt anything at all.

"Well, we...each took something, a keepsake," Abby said. "It was something to help us remember you...since you were...gone."

Finally, they were rewarded with a flicker of curiosity.

"What did you take?" Tim asked.

"That's what we came for," Jimmy said. "To show you, to give your stuff back." He held out a thin package wrapped in newspaper. "Here's what I took."

Tim took it and opened it.

"It's a good record," Tim said.

"Yeah, and the reason I picked that was because...well, it always surprised me that someone like you could enjoy something so old-fashioned like records. Every time I listened to it while you were gone, I would smile because I remembered that the computer expert at NCIS liked records."

Tim didn't look up in response to Jimmy's declaration, but he smiled wistfully...and then set the record aside.

"I'm next!" Abby said and held out a shirt which had been neatly cleaned, pressed and folded. "It's one of your MIT shirts, Tim. I've been wearing it a lot, but I got it professionally cleaned; so it doesn't have my germs or anything. I promise."

Tim took the shirt, looked up at her briefly, and smiled again.

"I...I never minded your germs before," he said softly...and then swallowed and looked away.

"I'm glad," Abby said with a smile that Tim didn't see. "I picked that because I remember how proud you were of your MIT degree back when you first started...and how you told me that the best part of MIT is that it was your name backwards. I would put on the shirt and then go look in the mirror so that I could see your name backwards."

A soft chuckle, quickly suppressed...but no one missed it and Tony pressed his advantage. He handed Tim his keepsake...wrapped in Christmas paper. A flash of the old Tim as he raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, it was all I had. I don't buy much wrapping paper," Tony said. "Open it."

Tim carefully unwrapped the "present" and let out a surprised laugh.

"Where did you find this?" he asked.

"In your stuff. You opened it."

"I listened to it," Tim said. "Once."

"Are you sure, Probie?"

Tim looked at Tony. "Yes. Only once."

"Well...I listened to it more, then...because I was actually surprised you would bother to listen to something I got you knowing you wouldn't like it."

There was a long moment of silence and then Ziva held out a rather heavy sack.

"I took more than the others, but it seemed right not to separate the set."

"Harry Potter," Tim said.

"Yes. I remember when you accidentally admitted to reading the books...and I denied it, but later on we did talk about our shared interest...even if it was covertly. It reminded me of our friendship...something I have greatly missed. We have all missed your friendship...Tim."

Another long silence.

"Me, too," Tim whispered.

"Will you speak with us?" Ziva asked. "Not about your experience if you do not wish to, but about yourself."

"What do you mean?"

"When we cleaned out your apartment, we learned things about you, Tim," Abby said. "Things you never told any of us. We thought it was sad that we'd never get the chance to ask you about them...but now we can. Will you let us? Will you talk to us?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Your playlists," Abby said.

"What about them?"

"Why?"

Tim shrugged. "Seemed to fit."

"But..."

"I never thought anyone else would see them. I just wanted to organize my music and those seemed right."

"You put some...interesting songs in them, McGee," Tony said with a smile.

"It's...how I...saw you. ...what I thought I knew."

Then, there was one of Tim's strange fits. He took a deep breath and let it out in short spurts, tensing up and hunching his shoulders. He closed his eyes tightly.

Instantly, Abby sat beside him and hugged him.

"It's okay, Tim. It's okay."

"Not enough," Tim whispered. "Never enough."

"What isn't enough?"

Tim didn't reply. For a few minutes, he just breathed and then he pulled away from Abby and got to his feet. It was clear that the time of sharing was over, ended by that continuing evidence of his changed nature...but there was something of his old self inside him and they wished it would come out more.

But it didn't that day. Tim excused himself and didn't come back. The others were forced to concede a momentary defeat and leave.

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

"...and I must confess that I was quite undone by the whole thing. I had not expected, nor even dared to hope that my feelings might be shared. It was to my detriment that I showed my skepticism, but she forgave me in the end and still attended the gala with me. Quite the lady, I must say."

Tim's attention, whether he was listening to Ducky or not, seemed to be entirely on the clouds in the sky. Ducky followed his gaze.

"It's a beautiful day, Timothy."

Tim nodded but didn't speak.

"Were there any good days during your time on the island?"

"Not really...only days that were better than others."

"Was the weather bad?"

"Most of the time it was cold and windy."

Short answers, giving information but not that which was really wanted.

"Timothy...what is it that you're really doing with your time?"

He never thought he'd get an answer. Tim never answered the important questions, but this time he did, even if he left Ducky none the wiser.

"Fighting."

"Fighting whom?"

Tim looked at him and Ducky noticed for the first time that Tim's eyes were a different color than they had been. Gone was the bright, clear green. Now, Tim's eyes were dark and cloudy...green tinged with gray. Tim met his gaze and then looked away, choosing to keep his secrets to himself...as usual.

Ducky sighed.

"Timothy, might I make one suggestion?"

Silence.

"Perhaps, you might try visiting your old life in DC. Not permanently, but seeing who you were may lead you to accept more easily who you now are. I want to see you happy and whole again."

Tim turned away from Ducky quickly, but not before a glint of tears appeared in his eyes. Ducky stopped Tim from leaving.

"What's wrong, lad?"

Tim stood still for a few seconds and then turned back to Ducky, silent tears coursing down his cheeks.

"That's...That's what I want, too...but I can't seem to get it."

"Perhaps if you shared what it is that causes you pain..."

"No!" Tim turned away and this time ran back into the house, leaving Ducky behind to ruminate on what little had been said.

It hadn't really told him much, but it did show that Tim himself was struggling. ...but against what or whom was this struggle? It made so little sense that Tim felt this need to fight but still also to keep his secrets from everyone but his parents.

When he headed back to DC a few hours later, Ducky found himself simply wishing for something. He chose not to try and figure out what that something was. He just knew that something needed to happen and so he hoped for whatever was needed.

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

Andrew Tait sat alone in the grass, happily anticipating his date the next day. It should have been tonight but Rebecca had been called into work unexpectedly. He had spoken with a few of the ghosts around and then returned to his favorite spot near the Odin Stone.

This time, he sensed the stranger's approach and turned to greet her, remembering how she had felt before.

"You're back," he said.

There was a strange smile on her lips.

"Yes."

"I didn't think it would take so long."

"Nor did I, but it has been found."

As she came toward him, Andrew noticed her rounded abdomen and his eyes widened. Her sharp eyes missed nothing.

"You have guessed?"

"I think so."

"Well done, Andrew Tait." That was all. She held out a small package. "You will send this?"

"Yes. To Timothy McGee."

"Very well done."

"What message should I send?"

"None. It needs no message. He will know it and understand it when he sees it."

"All the same...we humans generally expect something."

"I am not human."

"I know...but Timothy is...mostly."

Again, that strange smile. "Mostly. Very well, Andrew Tait. You may add this to the message: 'It is still a game to the seals. It is not a game to me.' That is all." She turned to go.

"Wait!"

"Yes?"

"May I ask you a question or two?"

"If they are brief." She turned back toward him.

"He's the father."

"Yes."

"Will the child be human?"

"They will be selkies."

"Is it hard to change your skin in your condition?"

"Yes. More so as the time draws nearer."

Andrew Tait looked at her carefully. "Then, why do it?"

For once, Andrew's piercing gaze told him nothing...but his instinct told him everything.

"Because it is what must be done. I must leave." She returned to her seal form and left him standing in the grass.

"Yes...what must be done," he repeated and looked at the small object.

It shouldn't be hard to find an appropriate address.