Chapter 26

Gibbs was livid and not just at the idiot who was Tim's psychiatrist. He was angry at himself as well. How had he let Tim go so long without getting real help? How had he not noticed? He didn't trust shrinks to solve everyone's problems, but Tim had seemed only nervous, not traumatized…until that awful moment in the elevator. There was no excuse for his inattentiveness, but he was going to make up for it. He got to the door to Dr. Leavitt's outer office and squared his shoulders. Then, he turned the knob and walked inside.

"Can I help you, sir?" a young woman asked.

"No. Is Dr. Leavitt in his office?" Gibbs asked, not stopping.

"Yes, but he's on his way…" she trailed off as Gibbs took a fraction of a second to look at her. "…I'll buzz you in."

By the time Gibbs got to the door, it was unlocked. He stormed inside.

"Excuse me, sir, what are you doing in here?" Dr. Leavitt asked, looking annoyed.

"Dr. Leavitt?"

"Yes. Obviously."

"The doctor part is questionable."

"I beg your pardon."

"It's not my pardon you should be begging. It's Timothy McGee's."

"What?"

"You are the most incompetent shrink I've ever seen…and that's saying quite a lot because in my experience, shrinks aren't worthwhile anyway."

"How dare you?"

Gibbs got right in his face, forcing Dr. Leavitt to lean back against his desk. "You're only lucky that I'm content to yell in your face when I'd like to beat you to a pulp! I'm here to tell you that Timothy McGee will no longer be attending sessions with you. He is going to get better help elsewhere and if I have anything to say about it, you will not be getting anymore recommendations from the Navy."

"Sir, I think you should calm down."

"Oh, I'm calm. If I wasn't, you'd know it…mainly because you'd be lying on the floor."

Dr. Leavitt swallowed nervously. "If Tim no longer requires my services, that's fine."

Gibbs let out a mirthless chuckle. "No longer requires your services? You ignored the big problem and focused on the least worrisome part of him. If your incompetence has damaged him in any way, I'll make sure you live to regret it."

"Is that a threat?"

"No. It's a promise," Gibbs hissed. Then, he turned around and walked out of the office, stopping to smile briefly at the secretary who looked positively terrified. Gibbs reminded himself that he'd have to tell Jenny he'd fired Tim's shrink. She might want to know.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For Tim, the weekend actually passed quite uneventfully. He didn't get anything written, but he didn't have any major freakouts either which was a definite plus in his mind. He did spend a lot of time thinking about what had happened in the elevator, though. By Monday morning, he was still thinking about it. It had been different. What he did in the bathroom…that wasn't reliving…not exactly. The elevator…he shuddered thinking about it. It had been as though he were back…back in the bathtub, paralyzed, powerless…dying. He shook his head to rid himself of the feeling. He never could just look at it as though from a third party. He always had to see it from his own perspective…from the perspective of someone passively drowning. He shook his head again. That wasn't helping. His hands were already shaking again.

Tim looked over at his typewriter, the pages of the finished chapter laying in a neat pile. He walked over to it and picked up all but the first two pages. He looked at them…and then with sudden violence tore the pages into pieces. When he finished, he looked in surprise at what he had done and knelt down on the floor to pick up the shredded words. A week's worth of typing and he had rejected it, irrevocably. He couldn't take that back because it was his only copy. A few of the words leapt into his mind, although he tried not to think about what he had lost: saved, once, healing, care, need… Tibbs had talked McGregor into walking away from the railing. He hadn't decided where it was going to go from there, but he had resolved the situation. Now, all he had was the conversation about destiny. For some reason, it frightened him. He looked at his watch and cursed to himself. He would be late if he didn't leave right then. In frustration, he dropped all the pieces he'd picked up, letting the scraps of paper flutter to the floor. He pretended he didn't notice them and ran out the door.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Jethro, when I said that I would be a better therapist than Dr. Leavitt, I was not making a suggestion," Ducky protested as the two of them walked toward Jenny's office.

"Dr. Leavitt was the recommended psychiatrist. Do you really want to trust McGee with another one of their recommendations?"

"Well, no, but I am not a certified psychiatrist, Jethro! I'm an ME and a forensic psychologist."

"And you have experience with the kind of problem McGee has right now."

"Yes, but Jethro…"

Gibbs stopped and turned around, forcing Ducky to stop as well. "It's been a month and a half. McGee wasn't that traumatized by his experience the day after it happened. He shouldn't be having that kind of flashback when he's been in therapy and supposedly dealing with it. I don't want to trust him to anyone else." Gibbs hesitated and then said, "Duck, when he was telling me about how he felt, I could see it in his eyes. This is not going away. This is not getting better. If anything, it's getting worse."

"I agree, Jethro, but I don't think that I would be the best option."

"He trusts you, Ducky. He trusts you more than anyone else here, except maybe Abby. At this point, I think that would be a whole lot more important than a degree on the wall."

"Please, Jethro…I…"

"No, Ducky, let me ask you. Please, do this for McGee."

They were on the balcony still when Tim walked in. He didn't notice them but continued on to his desk oblivious to their presence. Once he got there, he threw his bag on the floor and then, sat down, pressing his hands to his head. They could see him shaking, even from up above. He sighed to himself and clenched his hands into tight fists, trying to stop the outward manifestation of his lingering fear. Then, he straightened and began to work.

Gibbs looked at Ducky and waited.

"All right, Jethro. I'll try…but I will make the decision as to whether or not I can be effective. If I decide it's too serious for me to handle, that's the end of it, all right?"

"Okay, Duck."

They walked into Jenny's office, prepared to do battle.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tim absently started to flip through his files. He hadn't thought about cleaning out what he had during the last week…but now, he did have some extra time. Without thinking, he went to his old Smith case folders…they were empty. All the files seemed to have disappeared. Tim's eyes went wide and he started to panic…more lost evidence! He didn't know what to do and then, the elevator doors opened and Tony walked in.

"Morning, McGee," he said, not really looking at Tim. He carefully set his coffee down on his desk and began to idly flip through his docket.

"T-Tony?" Tim asked…his voice frightened.

"What, McGee?" Tony looked up and saw how pale Tim was. "What's wrong?"

"Th-the files…from the…the Smith case… They're gone. I didn't move them. I promise!" Tim stood up, looking for all the world like he was about to be arrested or something.

"Whoa…calm down, McGee. We moved all those folders. Ziva, Abby and I."

The feeling slowly crept back into Tim's legs and the room didn't seem to be closing in so badly. "Wh-why?"

"You solved case, Probie. It's no longer open. We packed everything up and sent it down with the others," Tony said, forcing himself to sound encouraging. Tim really looked scared.

"Oh…" Tim let out a rush of air and closed his eyes in relief. "I…I was so…so worried that…" he couldn't finish.

Tony suddenly understood. "Oh, you thought it looked like you had hidden them. No, McGee, we didn't think that. Don't worry so much."

Easier said than done, Tim thought and then stiffened when his phone began to ring.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Is this true?" Jenny asked, shocked and disgusted.

"Unless you think McGee is lying," Gibbs said.

"I agree," Ducky added.

"This is…this is awful. I had no idea. Of course, I'll approve changing to another psychiatrist. Do you have one in mind?"

"Yes," Gibbs said, looking over at Ducky, who still appeared uncomfortable with the idea.

"Who?"

"Ducky."

Jenny looked over at Ducky, surprise evident on her face but, to Ducky's surprise, not rejection. "It's unorthodox, but how do you feel about that, Ducky?"

"I am willing…with reservations."

"What would those be?"

"First of all, I am not a psychiatrist, and this could do more harm than good."

"I'm not worried about that."

"Well, allow me the space to worry…and to change my mind if I decide it won't work."

"Granted. What else?"

"We should ask Timothy what he thinks. Some people feel more comfortable about revealing their weaknesses to strangers, even with doctor-patient confidentiality. We should ask him and let him decide, letting him know, right off, that it is not required and that he will not be choosing between myself and Dr. Leavitt."

Jenny nodded. "Of course." She leaned over to her phone. "Cynthia? Please call down and ask Agent McGee to come up. Thank you."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Yes?" Tim asked.

"Agent McGee," Cynthia said, sounding, as usual, as though she knew some secret…which she probably did truth be told.

"Yes, Cynthia?"

"Director Shephard would like a word with you, if you have time."

"Of course. Now?"

"Yes."

"I'll be right up," Tim said and then hung up.

"What is it?" Tony asked.

"The director needs to see me."

"Have fun," Tony said, a mischievous grin on his face. He obviously saw no danger in the meeting. Tim, on the other hand, could only assume that it was going to be about his breakdown and that there were problems with his probation. What if they sent him home again?

He didn't show any of that. Rather, he just grinned at Tony's quip and mounted the stairs.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tim seemed very worried when he walked into the office and when he saw Gibbs and Ducky there as well, his eyes widened. However, he said nothing at first and Jenny wondered what he was thinking. Sometimes, she enjoyed letting people worry when they stood in front of her, but she couldn't do that to Tim. He looked brittle enough as it was.

"Agent McGee, Gibbs and Ducky have been telling me about what happened on Friday."

"I'm sorry, Director. I really didn't expect it. I'm sorry for what happened."

"Agent McGee, you're not in trouble."

"I'm not?" He seemed surprised.

"No, absolutely not. The fault does not lie with you. Allow me to ask you a question."

"Of course."

"Do you feel that your sessions with Dr. Leavitt have been helpful?"

"Well…" Tim hedged, obviously not wanting to express his feelings on the matter. "…they…they were at first."

"And now?"

"I…hate going, but it's required. I still have nearly two months left."

"Your remaining sessions with Dr. Leavitt have been…" here Jenny glanced at Gibbs, smiling a little, "…cancelled. You will, however, need to finish them out with someone else."

"Yes, ma'am. Who will it be, then?"

"Well, we do have a suggestion, pending your approval. You are under no obligation to take it. It is entirely your choice."

"Who?" Tim asked again, his face carefully blank.

"Dr. Mallard," she answered and then watched the expression on Tim's face change from one of confusion to understanding to deep relief…and then, oddly, to worry again. "Does that meet with your approval?"

Tim looked over at Ducky, as if verifying her statement. "Are you sure, Ducky? I don't want to make more work for you."

Ducky merely smiled. "On the contrary, Timothy, I would relish the opportunity to use my analytical skills on someone other than the dead and my mother. Her answers get quite repetitive, you know. This is not something you must accept or reject based on my feelings. I have already accepted. It is up to you. I will not be bothered either way." Ducky stopped and then spoke again. "I am not certified in psychiatry and I know that some people prefer to speak to strangers, but if neither of those statements bother you, then you have nothing to worry about."

Tim was silent, digesting the choice suddenly laying before him.

"Well?"

Tim slowly nodded. He wasn't happy, just relieved. It was apparent in every line of his face.

"Good," Jenny said. "I'll leave the two of you to work out the details."

Gibbs, who had said nothing up to that point, stood and asked, "Is that all?"

"Yes, Gibbs, I believe it is."

Gibbs turned to Tim and said briskly, "McGee, after you and Ducky work out your schedule, Abby told me she needs you down in the lab."

"Yes, Boss."

"Oh, by the by, Director, is there a possibility of using one of the conference rooms for our sessions?" Ducky asked. "Autopsy doesn't particularly present an inviting atmosphere…at least not to the living."

Jenny laughed. "Speak with Cynthia. I'm sure there's space above ground."

"Wonderful. Come, Timothy."

Tim followed Ducky out of the room. Gibbs stayed behind. When he and Jenny were alone, he said, "You'll be having Ducky report to you, won't you."

"Of course. Particularly the first meeting. I want to know his opinion… I'll let you know."

Gibbs just nodded and left.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As they settled into two comfortable chairs, Ducky smiled at Tim's obvious unease. He didn't take any offense. He rather thought that Tim would be like this with anyone.

"Now, Timothy, you were meeting with Dr. Leavitt once a week, I believe?"

"Yeah, ninety minutes on Friday evenings."

"What was your usual pattern? Of course, every therapist will have his own procedure…although I suppose that makes little difference to you seeing as…"

"Ducky, I've had therapy before," Tim interrupted.

"Really? When, if you don't mind me asking?"

Tim's eyes flicked away for just a moment before settling on Ducky. "You have to understand…this was something that had been building for a long time, Ducky." Tim seemed to feel the need to defend himself, even before revealing what had happened. "I was barely nineteen. Most people were justing finishing their first year of college, not their last. I didn't really have a large circle of friends. I had roommates, but we were…different. Different ages, different interests. They were there when it counted though."

"What happened?" Ducky repeated patiently.

"I had a nervous breakdown. It was around the middle of the semester and everything I had to do suddenly hit me. Instead of simply trying to scale back my schedule, I started working harder. I was terrified of not finishing on time, of failing." Tim actually laughed, although the memory obviously still pained him a little. "I get stressed easily anyway, but this was so much worse. It got to be too much and I completely lost it."

"By 'lost it' you mean?"

"I did all the stereotypical things overly-stressed people do. I was disconnected with reality, I had uncontrollable emotional outbursts. I was even hospitalized for a day or two."

"Why?"

"I had basically stopped eating and sleeping…because they took too much time out of my day."

"For how long?"

"I actually don't remember. Probably about a week. After the first few days, everything is pretty much blurred, even now. I went back later and looked at the 'work' I did during that time. It was gibberish. I wrote an entire paper, but to this day, I have no idea what it was that I thought I was saying. My roommates were the ones who got me help. They told me that they came back to the apartment one day and I was completely freaking out…and then, in the middle of that freakout, I collapsed. After I got out of the hospital, I went to one of the campus counselors for the rest of the year. She really helped me…lower my expectations."

"I see."

"Can I ask you something?" Tim asked, a smile on his lips.

"Of course."

"Why do you say that? Dr. Leavitt said it. The other counselors did, too. You're not even certified and you're still saying it. Why?"

Ducky smiled. "Because one thing I do know is the need not to judge what the patient is feeling. I see is an innocuous phrase that indicates understanding without judgment."

Tim nodded. "I see."

"So, now the real question is do you wish to meet before or after work?"

"What would be easier for you?"

"Timothy, it makes no difference to me."

"After, then."

"All right. Do Fridays still work for you?"

"Of course."

"Then, I will see you here on Friday."

"Okay, Ducky." Tim stood to leave.

"Timothy…"

"Yes, Ducky?"

"Did you accept me just to choose what you thought was the correct option?"

Tim turned around and faced him. "No, Ducky. I didn't. If I had, I might have chosen to use someone else." He looked at the ceiling. "No, when I chose, I was thinking only of what I wanted, not of anything…or anyone else."

"Good. Until Friday, then."

Tim nodded and left.

Alone again, Ducky sighed and shook his head. "Oh, Timothy," he sighed. "What have you done to yourself?"

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Friday night…late…

"So, Ducky? What do you think?" Jenny asked. She and Gibbs were seated across from Ducky as he gave his report on his first session.

"I think I had better stay on as his therapist because he does trust me, but I have to tell you that Timothy is currently a confusing mass of contradictions."

"In what way?"

"In dangerous ways which is why I asked Gibbs to be here as well. If Timothy does have another breakdown, it will more than likely be under Gibbs' eye."

"Is it likely?"

"I am not sure. The problem is that Timothy is able to act as though nothing is wrong most of the time. He may even think that nothing is wrong…but something is. I blame this on his previous therapist."

"Why?"

"Dr. Leavitt chose to emphasize Timothy's crime rather than the attack on him. He addressed the attack only as a result of what Timothy had done. While I can't believe that he intended for Timothy to take it as he has, the consequence of that approach has put in Timothy's mind that he deserved what Smith did to him, that it was a justified punishment for withholding evidence. I am trying to bring that to the fore, but it can't be done all at once. I have to establish the right tenor for our sessions. Although he trusts me, he does not feel open to explaining his thoughts to me as yet. That will take time."

"So, if he does break down, what form will that take?" Jenny asked.

"It's hard to say. It could be something as simple as him yelling at Tony and Ziva again or it could be another flashback…or it could even take the form of an attempt at suicide. It really is difficult to predict. I just want you to be ready for it."

"Should we take him off active duty?"

"For his sake, no. That would be the worst possible course. Timothy would see that as confirmation that he has made an irrevocable error in judgment that has no possibility for forgiveness. Just be aware of him and his mental state."

"All right, Ducky. Keep me informed."

"Of course, Director."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tim read over what he had written. It was awful. Every page. He sighed and turned off the jazz. Then, he put each page carefully into the shredder. This wasn't working. He stared briefly in the direction of the bathroom.

"No. I wrote just fine before I started doing that." However, he sighed as he looked at the overflowing trashcan. He had not written a single worthwhile word the entire week. He was going to be in trouble soon if he didn't finish the chapter. He looked toward the bathroom again…