Chapter 26

Tim opened his eyes, feeling incredibly groggy. Alexis had been right. Those pills were strong. He wouldn't take any today. He'd need his wits. It might be tricky getting back to NCIS, Tim knew. He couldn't be sure how intense the search for him actually was. It wouldn't hurt to be cautious...even paranoid about being found. That meant not taking his own car to the Yard. However, he couldn't go out on the street and hail a taxi either. That would be incredibly stupid...like painting a big old target on his...back. Calling for one was also out. They might be waiting for him to do that, to track him. He could order one over the internet but he'd have to disguise his IP address...just in case. That would work.

Decision made, he groaned as he sat up. His back really hurt. Funny how shrapnel could do that, he thought sarcastically. As he contemplated actually standing up, he thought about his return to NCIS. It loomed in his mind like a monolith. What was he really expecting from it? He did want to find out what had happened to Tony and Ziva and Gibbs. If they were all okay, he felt he could face a possible...what was the term Carew had used? Appropriation. He could face that with at least a modicum of dignity, if he knew that he hadn't killed them.

With a deep breath, Tim stood and bit his lip to keep from screaming. He desperately wanted to take more of the painkillers Alexis had left for him but he needed to be...quick on his feet today. He could repress, ignore the pain...as long as he didn't touch his back. As he slowly lumbered his way to the bathroom, he mentally eliminated the idea of actually showering. He would do as little as possible to maintain a degree of cleanliness. As he stared at himself in the mirror, he understood why Debesh had been so sure something was wrong. Even to his own jaundiced eye, Tim thought he looked like he'd been through the ringer...almost literally.

Splashing water on his face didn't help. He didn't dare shave with all the cuts and scrapes, not that it gave him more than a shadow. It could hardly be worse than the shadow in his eyes. Tim himself could see it. It wasn't only his friends that had put it there. It was everything...but in particular, it was the fact that, as he thought about what had happened in the past week, he had killed people...again.

...and I don't feel any guilt over it.

It was as though he was at last saying good-bye to who he'd been in the past. The guilt he felt over the lives he'd taken before was still there, but he had shot a man in the face and not even flinched. The one time he had flinched had almost allowed one of the team to be killed. It was as though the cosmos was telling him that it was pointless to try and follow the rules because, when he did, people got hurt. If he had broken protocol and called NCIS instead of just leaving a message, Tony, Ziva and Gibbs would never have felt they had to go to Montana. If he hadn't hesitated in killing that man, his friends wouldn't have been in danger of death themselves.

I hate this world, he thought, but I seem to be required to live in it. For how much longer? How much more can I take?

He sighed and went back to his bedroom. Slowly, painfully, he stripped off the clothes he had worn the day before (and overnight) and dressed in one of his sharper suits. Maybe it would offset his injuries. As he put on a clean shirt, he was surprised to find that it was loose on him. It had been almost snug the last time he'd worn it. Gently, he pulled on a jacket over top. It still caused him to wince. Finally dressed, he walked back to the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror.

I look like death warmed over. ...I guess that's better than looking dead.

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

"You're right on time, Agent DiNozzo."

"No need to sound so surprised."

"I was given to understand that you might resist coming."

Tony shook his head. "I'm...I know I need the help."

"Well, that's the best way to begin. Come in. Have a seat."

"Will you approve me going to work if I come?"

"I was told that you would not be fit to go to work."

"Not in the field...but I don't have a team to work with anyway. I just want to be back at NCIS."

"That can be arranged."

"Today?"

"If you feel the need."

"I do."

"Very well."

"Just like that?"

"This is therapy, Agent DiNozzo. It's not a punishment. You did nothing wrong."

Tony was silent.

"You didn't, you know. Why don't we start there..."

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

"Agent Gibbs, you spent three days with an untreated gunshot wound. You also spent two days with a severe burn in the same area. You are, as I am sure you're aware, not a young man anymore. It takes longer for older bodies to heal."

"You don't have to treat me like I'm senile," Gibbs grumbled.

Ziva smiled at the exchange. Gibbs had more energy today and that was a distinct relief to her...and it would be to Tony as well. She herself knew that there was a long way to go before she was ready to be released. The bleeding had been bad enough, but the ischemia from the days of unrelieved restraint had put a strain on her nerves and tendons that would take time to heal. For whatever reason, she was not annoyed by that. She was...relieved. Relieved that they had all survived. Too often, situations like that ended only in death. They had all survived.

...because of McGee. Where is he now?

"You're not senile, but you are injured. If we take your recovery slowly now, you'll be back on your feet that much sooner...and you'll be less likely to make a repeat visit. Do this our way, Agent Gibbs. Believe me, we don't want to keep you here any longer than necessary."

Ziva saw Gibbs almost smile and looked away to keep from smiling herself. It felt almost wrong to smile. They'd all been tortured. Tim had disappeared. Bombs had gone off in Arlington. This was not the time to smile.

...but if not now, when?

"Have you heard anything about McGee?" Gibbs asked after the doctor left.

Ziva shook her head. "No. Nothing. Tony is going to NCIS today after he speaks to the psychiatrist. He will tell us if there is something to tell."

"Why isn't this bothering you, Ziva?"

"What?"

"Being stuck in here. You're never willing to sit around."

Ziva let her eyes shift to the television. "Because I am grateful that I am alive to sit around. I thought I would die...and I thought that the only thing worse than that was the pain I was causing you and Tony. I want that to be over."

"Just like that?"

"No. It does not work like that," she said and faced Gibbs. "But I can start...and I will succeed because I remember now the expression in McGee's eyes when he held me. He wished he was dead. I do not want to be the cause of that feeling...not in anyone, and if I can stop it by healing, then I will take all the time required to do so."

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

"ID, please."

"Don't you recognize me, Henry?" Tim asked, managing a believable smile.

"Agent McGee? Are you all right?" Henry asked in shock.

"I've been better, but I hope you'll let me in anyway."

"Go right in, Agent McGee...and sit down before you fall over."

Tim nodded. "I'll do my best." He walked to the elevator and sent it up, all the way up to the balcony level. The taxi ride had not been relaxing. Too many abrupt stops and starts that had left him almost crying. But he had made it, apparently undetected. He walked along the balcony to Jenny's office and stepped into the reception area. Cynthia was at her desk. She looked up, looked down and then jerked her head back up.

"Agent McGee! Do you need to sit down?"

"Why is everyone asking me that?" Tim asked, but he managed a small smile. "No. I need to see the director. Is she in?"

"Yes. Go in. She's in MTAC, but I'll tell her you're here."

"Thanks." Tim walked toward the door.

"Agent McGee."

He turned.

"I'm so glad you made it."

Tim couldn't quite make a smile in response. "I don't know if I have yet, but thank you."

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

Abby sat rather glumly, waiting for a call that would send her into one of her frantic bursts of energy which allowed her to get all the work done in a timely fashion.

Maybe I should go down to Autopsy, she thought. Ducky and Jimmy are there, at least. At first, she'd gone to the bullpen during the downtime in order to feel closer to them even when they were gone, but it had only made things worse to see the unoccupied desks. I t was hard knowing that the majority of her favorite people in the building...just weren't there. NCIS had over a hundred employees working at any given time on a normal day, but she had attached herself mostly to Gibbs' team... things had just worked out that way. Without them there, knowing that two were still recovering physically and that one was recovering mentally from the torture, and not knowing where the fourth was...it was really hard to deal with it. She was making an effort...and Ducky and Jimmy had born the brunt of her efforts not to worry about what was going on.

Maybe I should give them a break... No, people can find me if they need to.

Decision made, Abby wandered down to Autopsy.

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

Tim stood stiffly in Jenny's office. His legs wanted to sit, but his back said that any unnecessary movement had to be avoided. The thought of stretching or twisting the skin in any way almost made him shudder...except that shuddering hurt as well.

The door opened and closed behind him. He didn't turn.

"Agent McGee, I'm glad you're back. Please, sit," Jenny offered, sitting down herself.

Tim shook his head. "I'd prefer to stand, ma'am."

"Very well. How did you get away from Carew?"

That question made him want to cry, but he resisted the impulse. "I didn't." He paused. "Carew told me that the current plan is for the government to take over my life...permanently."

"That's not how they're putting it...but yes, that's what they want to do," Jenny said, nodded sadly.

"Has the decision been made?"

"Not officially. There's a meeting at the White House tomorrow."

"Who's going to be there?"

"The heads of all the federal agencies involved, CIA, FBI, NSA, you know the list. The Secretary of Defense, SecNav and possibly a few other White House flunkies."

Tim managed a smile at the description. "Am I invited? Do I get a say in my own life?"

"You've been gone, McGee," Jenny said gently. "That's part of the reason for this. I am apparently unqualified to keep you safe...whether you need to be or not."

"I need to go with you, Director."

"Why?"

Now, for the first time, Tim allowed some emotion into his voice. "To look in their eyes and tell them I'm not going to play anymore. To let them see what they've done to me in the name of patriotism. To say that there is no way...no way at all that I will allow them to destroy me any more than they already have."

"McGee, I'm not so sure that would be a good idea."

Tim took a deep breath and let it out in a soft laugh. "Two years ago, I proved that I was good at resisting torture. I've proved my technical prowess time and again. I've also, more recently, illustrated my ability to work under...physical stresses. Unless these people are willing to engage in the same behaviors they find abhorrent in others, they can't force me to do anything I don't want to do. They need to hear that from me. They need to see what they've done to me already and know that I won't be used that way anymore. ...I have enough of that as it is."

"What do you mean?"

Tim smiled again, but rarely had he ever felt less like smiling. "I can only tolerate so much, Director. This may never truly be over, but they're not going to make it any worse. I can't handle more. I can barely handle what I have. You need to take me with you."

Jenny stared at him for a long moment, as if analyzing his every word, his every move. "All right. You'd better stay at NCIS today and...try and stay..."

"Out of sight, out of mind?"

"Yes. They're still looking for you, although I don't think they're focusing too much on us right now...simply because they know we're not likely to be especially helpful. They're hoping to catch you out in the open."

"I'm fine with staying here. Nothing bad has really happened to me here. It's only out there."

"I don't think you're allowed to move in."

"I'm not planning on it, Director," Tim said, his smile a bit more genuine. He turned to walk out of the office.

"McGee... Tim."

He turned back.

"I...I am so sorry."

Tim shook his head. "None of this is your fault, Director. You've done your best to keep me free...and I appreciate that. In the last few days, though, I've realized that I have to do my part as well. I can't depend on you to do it for me."

"Will you make it?"

"I don't know...but I've made this far, haven't I?" Tim smile lasted only a fraction of a second.

"I've thought many times that you are one of the strongest people I've ever known, Tim. I just don't want you to have to face your limits...because they're already farther than I thought they'd be."

"Same here. Is that all, Director?"

"Yes. Keep a low profile."

"Will do." Tim turned around a final time and walked out of the office with the same pained gait that he had been using since waking up the day before. He decided to drop his bag at his desk before heading down to Autopsy to talk to Ducky. The weight was almost too much for him.

"Are you sure you're all right, McGee?" Cynthia asked as he passed.

"No," Tim said, honestly. "How are the others?"

"Agent DiNozzo was released yesterday, but Agent Gibbs and Officer David are still in the hospital."

"Will they be all right?"

"As far as I know. They are all slated for psychiatric visits, but a full recovery is predicted."

"Good."

"What about for you?"

Tim hitched one shoulder and winced. "Jury's still out on me. I'll let you know...when you tell me what you used to do before taking your place at that desk."

Cynthia smiled in response...but didn't answer.

Tim nodded and continued on his way...but he stopped when he reached the balcony. He saw an impossible sight...a painful and joyous sight. Tony was sitting at his desk. A breath of normalcy in the insanity that ruled his life, but Tim wanted to hide. He couldn't forget what Tony had said...and how true it had all been. He'd have to face it eventually, however, so he walked down the steps and put his bag down at his desk.

"Hi, Tony," he said softly.

Tony turned around and almost looked happy to see him...almost. "McGee!"

"Couldn't stay away?" Tim asked.

"You know me. I never know when to quit."

Tim nodded and began to walk to the elevator.

"Wait! McGee, where are you going?"

"I'll be back. I just have something to do."

"Hey!" Tony stood and strode over to him, grabbing his arm. He forced Tim to turn around. "That's it? You disappear for days, reappear and that's all you have to say?"

His back was throbbing and Tim just couldn't focus on Tony's words...not as much as he should be.

"Later, Tony. I promise. Later, not now." He turned toward the elevator again...and suddenly felt his back explode in a paroxysm of pain.

Tony had reached out and hit him...a solid thump right in the middle of his back. It was a thump meant to get attention, not to cause pain.

...what it did, however, was wring a tortured scream from Tim and drive him to his knees, tears of agony falling down his cheeks.