Chapter 27
Tony seemed different when he came back to the house. He'd been gone for quite a while, but there was a...lightness to him that hadn't been there before. Everyone noticed it, but no one commented on it. They made dinner as a kind of breaking in of the house. Tim had to eat carefully, but it was the first regular meal he'd had that wasn't hospital food in a long time.
After dinner, Ducky sat with Tim and talked. Ziva volunteered to clear up the meal and Gibbs gestured for Tony to join him out on the deck.
Tony leaned against the railing and looked at the mountains, currently lit up by the setting sun.
"Had a good time?"
Tony smiled. "Yeah. Got lost and met a girl who gave me directions. It was...just normal."
"Not much of that lately, huh?" Gibbs said.
"No. ...really, not for years. We just didn't realize how not normal it was in between."
"Yeah. You gonna be okay here?"
"Yeah, sure. McGee and me. We're pals. This house is so big we won't have to see each other at all if we don't want to."
Gibbs said nothing...but Tony got serious.
"It's going to be weird...but I'll stick it out. It's not like we can leave him alone."
"You ready to handle being the one who takes care of him?"
"Tim and I will talk about that...and we'll agree that it's going to be awkward, but we can handle it."
"You ready to deal with all the things that could go wrong?"
"Like what?"
"Like McGee catching on to who's paying for this house. Like McGee deciding that he's going to give up. Like the unlikely possibility of someone finding him."
"I'm not letting him give up. If he figures it out, I'll tell him I didn't agree with your decision...since I don't. Someone finds him...fine. I'd like the chance to pay them back."
"Who are you going to pay back?"
"Anyone. I don't care who. If they're looking for McGee, they're not doing anything good."
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
The others stuck around for a few days, helping Tony and Tim get settled in their temporary home. None of them actually wanted to go. Tim's reappearance had been so welcome and his injuries both physically and psychologically were so shocking that they all wanted to stay to help him recover, but they were all aware that the more strangers in the area the more likely they'd be noticed. Even more importantly, the longer they were absent from DC, the more likely they'd be tracked down and Tim would be found by people who didn't care about his well-being.
So they began to pack up. Still dependent, however gallingly, upon the magnanimity of Levi Carew, they would be taking the CIA plane back to DC, after a few other stops to disguise their path.
And the time had come, finally, to say their good-byes, not knowing how long it would be before they'd see Tim again, and knowing that the end result of this attempt to help Tim heal was very much up in the air. After all their efforts, Tim might still choose to give up the fight for his life. Tony had much to do in remaining behind. While he couldn't force Tim to do anything and although the doctor would be tending to his injuries, Tony was to be Tim's only constant link to his life...and the often-prickly nature of their interactions could be either good or bad. Then, too, at the back of everyone's mind was the possibility that Carew would suddenly show himself devious and try to take Tim over himself.
...so it was hard to say good-bye.
Tim was in his wheelchair, unsure of what to say, unsure of how he felt about it all. He was back in his own country, freed from captivity, his life saved, his body, slowly and painfully, but also surely, healing. ...and yet, he was in hiding, wishing for the whole pointless struggle to be over and wondering what would happen to him next.
They'd had lunch together and now were simply lingering, delaying the moment of departure.
Ziva approached him first. She kissed him gently on his healing cheek and only whispered "shalom" in his ear. Then, she withdrew with a smile.
"Thank you," Tim whispered in reply.
Ducky approached next. He was uncharacteristically brief.
"I'm very glad to see you safely here and I will look forward to your full recovery...and it can happen, I promise. Since Abigail can't be here, I will do what she would wish to do."
Tim smiled and let Ducky hug him gently.
Finally, Gibbs came over to him. He squeezed Tim's uninjured arm.
"You'll make it, McGee," he said.
Tim looked behind to where Ziva was hugging Tony and Ducky shaking his hand. His eyes moved back to Gibbs.
"Where to?" he asked with the slightest bit of sarcasm.
Gibbs just smiled and let him go. He patted Tony on the shoulder and then they all left...and left Tim and Tony by themselves.
Tony looked awkwardly at Tim. Until Tim's arm healed, he couldn't even wheel himself around the house. He was utterly dependent upon someone else to get him around, out of bed, and so on...
"So...McGee...what now?"
Tim smiled weakly. "Well...I'd rather not be sitting out here in the middle of the room."
"Where do you want to go?"
"I'd like to go out on the deck for a while, if you don't mind."
"Okay. You want company?"
Tim's smile widened. "I think we're going to get sick of each other soon enough as it is."
Tony chuckled. "Good point. Just shout when you want to come back in."
Tim nodded carefully and then tensed as Tony grasped the handles, ready for the slight jolt that always accompanied movement for him. Tony put a hand on his shoulder for just a moment and then eased Tim forward. Tim clenched his jaw as the expected pain came. It was considerably less than it had been. He was on some pain medication now, but anything strong enough to remove all the pain would also knock him out and that was no good.
Tony wheeled him out to the deck.
"Here all right, McGee?"
"Yeah. Fine," Tim said. The position wasn't particularly important. Especially here. The view was spectacular no matter where he sat on the deck. Besides, the view wasn't why he wanted to come out...or it wasn't only the view.
Tony left him alone on the deck and Tim sighed as he looked around. It was very nice to be back in a place where the dominant colors weren't shades of brown. Now, granted Idaho wasn't nearly so green and developed as DC, but its wildness had a softer, less dangerous quality to it than The Empty Quarter had. He didn't feel safe exactly, but he was better off than he had been.
What would happen here now? The physical therapist would be coming out daily to help him. Soon, they'd decide whether or not surgery was necessary for his feet. ...but how long would it take for him to walk without pain? He knew that nerve damage could sometimes be permanent...which would mean a lifetime of pain.
Tim reached out his uninjured arm and grabbed hold of the railing of the deck. He pulled himself forward and then rested his head against it, hiding the mountains from his view. This was going to take a long time. He wasn't sure he had the time required in his allotment of endurance. This was, by far, the worst he'd suffered physically in the last few years. He could have gone blind in one eye. He could never walk again. ...and he came close to dying. When he thought about it in detail, it shocked him deeply. It seemed so ridiculous. He wasn't the kind of person who was important enough to warrant being "recruited", being attacked, being taken and tortured. He was a geek. That's all.
...and yet, he no longer really felt that way. He had become important, not through any effort of his own but because other people had decided he mattered.
It was a dichotomy. He shouldn't be important but he was...but he really wasn't...but people thought he was. If he could only get everyone to stop thinking he was so incredibly important...
...but that didn't seem to be possible. Some sort of lacunas in his memory, an excising of the important information from his mind. If there was a way, some way to take a scalpel to his brain and cut out all that everyone felt vital to control. He would be happy to hand over those parts of his brain possessing that data and be rid of them forever.
Lifting his head, Tim looked at the dramatic peaks on the eastern portion of the valley. They were beautiful. He was reminded, in a way, of the Montana mountains he'd seen last year. Granted, he had been running for his life at the time, but he rather suspected that he'd be able to see the stars quite well here, as he had before.
Would he ever be able to touch that other world again? The world of his former self, the man who woke up in the morning and thought only of his routine, his normal life, his only worries being whatever case came up and whether or not Tony would bother him too much.
The sun headed westward, casting light, making shadows on the mountains. Would he ever have an unjaded view of the world around him again? Or would he always look around and see that other world? The corrupt and dangerous world full of people who wanted nothing more than to cause pain, to damage, to use, to destroy.
Tim looked back over his shoulder. Tony was in the main room, watching TV, the flickering light reflecting on his face. Tony was another adversely affected by this new world Tim lived in now. How had it not changed him? He was more serious, but he was still the same person Tim had known before. In fact, Tony didn't live in this world. He might visit occasionally, but he didn't stay. Tim was jealous of that ability. He looked back at mountains. Tall, unmoving, piles of rocks tracing out the sky.
What was he going to do? Tim didn't know.
"McGee?"
"Yeah?"
Tim looked back. Tony was standing in the doorway.
"You hungry yet?"
"I guess."
"Come on in."
"Okay."
Tony wheeled him back into the house.
