Chapter 26

After dinner, Tim went back to the couch. He pulled out the drawing he'd started, and then, he pulled out the family photo and Rachel's card. Mary, the woman he'd lost. The family he'd lost. The offer to gain something he'd never had. He set them side by side and stared at them for hours, long after Ducky went to bed.

Which was the reality?

Which was his life?

He didn't know, but maybe there was time to...

Suddenly, his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the breaking glass.

He had just enough time to see something fly through the air before it crashed on the floor.

...and a fire started.

It was as though the fire was flowing like a river. All Tim could think about was that it was fire.

Again.

There was another crash.

Then, he heard one more crash and shout of pain.

Ducky!

He turned toward the bedroom but, for a moment, he couldn't move toward it. He couldn't make himself walk to the bedroom and see more death. His father had died in a bedroom. His mother had died in a bedroom. That was what bedrooms were. Portals to death.

Flames leapt up around him and the door to Ducky's room opened.

Ducky staggered out into the living room, trying to stem the flow of blood from a deep gash on the side of his head.

"Timothy..."

That was all he said and then, he fell to the floor, his eyes closing.

Still, Tim stood there, frozen in place, unable to do anything except stare at another death.

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

"That was a bust," Agent Saunders said as they headed back around the block. "That person isn't going after McGee."

"I'm glad it was," Agent Weaver replied. "I hope this is the most boring night I ever have. Excitement will only mean violence."

"Yeah, I know. I just keep feeling like something is going to happen, and I just want to get it over with."

"I know what you mean. I feel it, too."

As they came around the corner, they saw a pickup parked in front of Ducky's home and a person standing on the sidewalk beside it. Before they could do more than take that in, the person starting throwing objects at the house. The first one broke a window and flames began to leap up inside.

"He's starting the house on fire!" Agent Weaver said. "Run!"

Agent Saunders nodded and they both started to sprint toward the house. The person threw three more of the objects. One landed on the lawn, but the other two made it inside.

"Stop where you are!"

The person turned and saw them, jumped into the pickup and sped away.

"Did you get the license plate?" Agent Weaver asked.

"No, but I got make and model."

That would have to do, but for now, it was more important to get the fire stopped and make sure no one had been hurt.

"Call the fire department! Hurry!"

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

He could feel the heat from the fire all around him.

Run.

He didn't know where the thought had come from, but he shook himself. He didn't have to stand here. He didn't have to let it happen.

You're not a child, not this time.

Again, the thought seemed like it was coming from someone else, but Tim nodded to himself. He picked up the photo, the card and his sketchpad. Then, he ran over to where Ducky was on the floor. He stuffed the sketchpad into his shirt in order to free up his hands. He knelt down and grabbed Ducky by the shoulders. He didn't speak. He barely thought. He just grabbed the body of the only person left in the town who had believed him and dragged him out of the house onto the grass in the front yard. Then, he ran back into the house, through the kitchen, out to the back where Ducky had a hose. He turned it on and started to spray it inside where the fire was hottest.

All he could think about was getting rid of the fire.

No more fire.

No more fire.

He vaguely noticed sirens outside, but his focus was all on the flames, on getting rid of them, portals to death that they were.

From a long way away, he heard a voice saying his name, but he couldn't tell what was being said.

Then, someone was yanking on his arm, pulling him out.

"The fire truck is here, Tim! It's time to get out!"

He resisted. He had to put out the fire!

"Tim! Listen to me! You've done your part. It's time to leave the house!"

Tim didn't want to go, but that hand on his arm was too strong. He was pulled out of Ducky's house, to the grass in the yard. He vaguely noticed Ducky being taken away, and it came to him that yet another person had died because of him. This time, because he wouldn't leave Hazard.

As if the fire from the house leapt into his brain, he couldn't think through that one thought.

Ducky would have lived if I hadn't been here.

He pulled away from the hands on his arms and started to run toward the river.

Only this time, he wouldn't stop there.

He was going to leave Hazard. It was the only way to stop the death.

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

The ringing phone woke Gibbs up and he was alert almost instantly.

"Gibbs."

"Boss, it's Stan."

"What happened?" Gibbs asked, knowing that Stan would only be calling with bad news.

"Someone set fire to Ducky's house tonight."

"Who?"

"Based on the description Agent Saunders gave, I'd say it was the sheriff's son."

"Where were Agent Saunders and Agent Weaver?" Gibbs demanded. "We had them there for a reason!"

"Checking out someone who had looked suspicious. They were only gone for a few minutes. When they were heading back, they saw the person throwing something...probably Molotovs at the house. One of them didn't ignite, but the other three did."

"And?"

"And Ducky's in the hospital. Don't know how bad it was. I didn't see him. Tim ran off after, and I've been swamped here. I'm assuming he went back to the river. That's his go-to place, usually. I was going to check on him after I got things under control. I'm sorry, Boss. I really thought things were starting to calm down. Most of the people in town were accepting of it. Wait a second. Boss, I'll call you back. I need to..."

"Don't bother. I'm on my way."

"See you here, then. Hey! Paul! Stop right there!"

Then, Stan hung up. Gibbs sat for a moment, regretting that Tim had been confronted with yet another fire. This would have unbalanced him, Gibbs was sure. Could it have been prevented? Maybe. Maybe not. Impossible to know, now. All they could do was pick up the pieces. He looked at the clock. Almost four a.m.

He called Tony and Kate and got them moving. Maybe it wasn't completely necessary to have them there, but at least, Tim would have people on hand who were on his side. Hopefully, it would help.

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

Stan caught sight of one of Alan's old cronies hovering in the crowd.

"Hey! Paul! Stop right there!"

He hung up his phone, knowing Gibbs wouldn't take offense and hurried over to where Paul was standing, clearly wondering if he should run or stay where he was.

"What, Stan?"

"What are you doing here?"

Paul shrugged. "Gawking. Like everyone else is."

"Don't give me that crap, Paul," Stan said. "You live on the north side of town. There's no reason for you to be over here at four in the morning, especially since I don't see Shelly with you. What are you doing here?"

Paul looked shifty.

"Did you do this?"

"No! No way, Stan. I would never attack Ducky."

"Then, why?"

"I... Alan... he asked me to help him get back at McGee for getting his dad arrested."

"Get back at him? How?"

"He didn't say. I knew that Tim was here. Everyone knows that, and I told him no. I told him that I wasn't going to help him with anything that might hurt Ducky, too."

"That's it? You just said no?"

"Yeah. I said no and I walked away. I've got too many things going for me, now. I wasn't willing to risk getting involved in something like that, not anymore. I wasn't interested in what he might want to do. I thought that, since he'd gone away for school and all, he might have changed, but he hasn't, Stan. He still can't stand the idea that he's not top dog. I heard the siren from the fire truck, and I was afraid that maybe Alan had gone through with whatever he wanted to do. I told Shelly where I was going. That's why I'm here."

"You think it was him?" Stan asked.

"Yeah. I do. I hope I'm wrong, but no one else would go after Ducky like this. You know that. Heck, even the people who burned down the McGee house did it while he wasn't in it. They didn't want to physically hurt him and that wasn't me, either. But we're just not that way, here...except for Alan."

"Yeah." Stan sighed. "When we get through all this mess, you're going to have to make a statement about that, Paul. You got that?"

"Yeah. I understand. Stan, will I be charged with anything? I really didn't know what he was going to do. If I had..."

"No, Paul. You won't be. You didn't help him and you didn't hide what you knew. That keeps you from being an accessory. You're just a witness."

"Okay. Can I go home?"

"Go ahead. You have to get to the store soon, don't you?"

"Yeah, but I can be late one day. Just don't tell Mr. Fields I said that. He might decide to take it back. I still can't believe that the store is mine, some days."

Stan smiled a little and gestured for Paul to leave. He turned and looked at Ducky's house. The fire was out, now. Thanks to Tim's quick reaction, while there would be a lot of water damage, it didn't look like the fire had damaged the structure of the house, only some of the interior furnishings. Ducky might lose some knickknacks, but he'd still have his home. It was nothing like what had happened to Tim, because people had cared enough to stop it before it got out of control.

But neither event should have happened at all, and Stan was determined to have this be the end of it. He didn't care what it took. People were going to be forced to see what they were turning into.

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

Tim knelt in the mud by the river and rubbed water on his face, trying to clean off any soot that might have lingered from the fire. He wanted every trace of it gone, nothing left of the fire. Then, he pulled out the picture of his family, tore it into pieces and threw it into the river. He pulled out the card Rachel had given him, tore that into pieces and threw it into the river, as well. Finally, he picked up the sketchpad, ready to throw it into the river, too, but then, he stopped.

He leaned back on the riverbank and opened it up to the page with the first drawing he'd made of Mary. It was dark, but he knew the picture so well that he didn't need to see it. He couldn't throw that away. He couldn't throw Mary into the river. That was where she had ended up.

Carefully, he removed the page from the sketchpad. He turned to the last page, the drawing he hadn't finished and he removed that, too. Then, he looked at the sketchpad, stood up and threw it as hard as he could into the river. All those monsters he had drawn. Maybe that would finally put out the fires.

With a deep breath, he folded up the two pages and shoved them into his pocket. Then, he started walking away.

Away from the river, away from Hazard, away from fire and death.

As he walked by the sign marking the Hazard city limits, he realized that he hadn't passed by the sign in 20 years, not since he'd first come. He hadn't even remembered that there was a sign. He had no idea what there was in the rest of the world, but that didn't matter.

Now, he was leaving. He didn't know where he was going. He didn't care. Just away.

With that one thought in mind, he started to run.