Chapter 29: That They May Recover Themselves
Tim worked on the staining all night. That was something he'd found was a result of his recent experiences. He'd always been able to focus on things intently, but now, it was nothing to devote his whole attention on something like this. It was nothing to tune out everything around him and work. In fact, it was easier than paying any attention to anyone else.
He followed the instructions and taped off each individual part before staining one color. Then, he waited for it to dry. While he waited, he tried to do anything other than think. The first board...he just sat and watched on the principle that, although a watched pot never boils, stain must dry watched or not. It seemed to take forever...so the next board, he cleaned his bathroom. The third board, saw a clean kitchen. The fourth board, a cleaned bedroom. The fifth board, a cleaned main room...mostly. There was a lot of junk he'd promised himself he'd go through, but that wasn't going to happen at one in the morning. There was one board left and he'd cleaned his entire apartment. So, instead of finding something else to clean, Tim decided to go for a walk...at two in the morning...by himself. As he crossed the street, he reflected on the wisdom of his choice of distractions. It seemed silly to do this, but he found that he didn't really care.
Silly or not, it was nice to get out and about, away from the walls that sometimes felt as though they were closing in on him, away from the possibility of someone calling him. He'd received five calls that night. It had made him laugh because, even though Tony hadn't left a message, he'd called first. Ducky had called at about the same time as Ziva and hadn't left a message. Abby called. Gibbs called. They were all so worried. He admitted that he was still having some troubles, that occasionally, he lost himself in the memories of his recent past...but it was happening less and less and he wanted to know why it was that his very presence in the bullpen made everyone edgy. Why was it that Tony still couldn't act normal around him? Why was Ziva still making so many attempts to be nice? Why was Gibbs being so understanding? Why?
He wandered through the streets to the Maryland extension of Rock Creek Park. He didn't wander too far inside. That might be...well, dangerous. Even if the park was safe, that still didn't warrant idiotic frolicking through the trees in the dark. That was just asking for trouble. The stain was probably dry, but now that he was out here, he didn't want to go back. He sat on a bench...and began to think.
Is this my fault? Should I be trying harder? Am I expecting too much of them? Of myself? Should we all just get over ourselves? Questions that he couldn't answer. Tim knew that everyone had been great throughout his extremely long recovery. It was hard for them to deal with...well, with him. He had been difficult to be around...and he knew it, even if he couldn't help it too much. But why can't they see what I've done? How far I've come? Why is it that they're all still afraid of me? Tim was still afraid of himself...he didn't need everyone else feeling the same way. But can I really blame them? If I can't deal with myself how can I expect them to deal with me?
There were too many unanswerable questions, and Tim, as he often did, felt overwhelmed by them. He didn't even notice the people staring at him from further inside the park. What he did notice was the chill in the air...and the lateness of the hour. Nearly three in the morning. He should go home and go to bed. It was a very sane and rational idea. So he got up and started on his way.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Someone was following him.
Tim looked back over his shoulder briefly once and noticed that it was not just one someone, but three someones. They were hanging back a ways, but they were most definitely following him. He felt his heart start to pound in his chest. He was afraid. Gone was the reflection of moments before. Now...now, he was terrified. He hadn't brought his phone with him. All he had was the key to his apartment.
Stupid! Idiot! Tim berated himself as he continued to walk. There were more lights coming up along the sidewalk, and soon enough, he'd be closer to the downtown area of Silver Spring. More people meant more safety.
Keep walking. Keep walking. Don't look behind.
Tim took a deep breath. He felt...alone. Afraid. This was a completely different kind of terror from what he'd been feeling. As he kept walking, he wondered why. What was it about this situation that was so different, so much worse than the fear he'd had before?
This fear was real. It wasn't something that he simply couldn't shake. It was real, adrenaline-pumping, possible-danger-looming fear. ...and no one was there to help him, to save him. The people he'd rejected were the ones he wished were with him...and they weren't...by his own instigation. Now, logically, he knew that it was unlikely they'd be there at three in the morning in any case, but still...
The lights were closer. Tim sped up just a little, closer to the lights. Closer to safety. Closer to home.
Then, with relief, he saw the approaching figure of a police cruiser. It was heading the opposite direction on the other side of the street. Without a further thought, Tim sprinted across, nearly getting hit by the car, but so relieved to see someone that he didn't care.
"Hey! Are you out of your mind?" A cop yelled from his window.
"Perhaps," Tim gasped. He was breathless, but not from the run. It was from the fear. He walked closer to the car, blinking in the flashlight they shone in his face. "There were some people following me. I just needed to get away from them."
"What are you doing out so late, sir?"
"Not thinking," Tim said.
"Have you been drinking?"
"No, sir. Just acting like a brainless teenager." Tim smiled with a self-deprecatory air.
The beam of the flashlight lowered so that Tim could see. He looked around and noted that his shadows had disappeared. The police officer followed his gaze.
"How many were there?"
"Three."
"Did you see them clearly?"
"Only that they were wearing hoodies. I couldn't see faces. They've been following me for a few blocks. I didn't have my cell phone with me and I couldn't call anyone. I didn't dare stop anywhere."
"That was probably smart. Well, sir, why don't you let us give you a ride back to your place?"
"That...would be great. Thank you. Thank you very much," Tim said. He swallowed and got in the back seat, giving his address. As soon as the cruiser set off, Tim let out a deep sigh of relief.
"Worried, were you?" the cop driving asked.
"More than worried," Tim admitted. "I wasn't sure I was going to make it home."
"Well, next time, don't go out so late, not alone, anyway."
"Believe me: that's not a mistake I want to repeat ever again."
"Good. Some people don't learn...until it's too late."
"Right."
They lapsed into silence and Tim leaned back feeling the release of the tension that had enveloped him.
"Here we are, right?"
Tim looked out the window. "Yes. That's my building. Thank you again."
"Oh, let me get the door. You won't be able to open it."
Tim smiled. "Thanks." The door opened and he got out, unable to suppress his instinct to look over his shoulder again.
The officer smiled. "Go to bed, sir. You're all right. Those guys probably slouched off once they saw our car. Those are people who only work without witnesses."
"Yeah. I can't thank you enough."
"Just doing our job. Be grateful that we were even driving that beat tonight. It's not our usual route. We went around some construction."
"Then, for the first time in my life, I'm grateful for road construction."
The officer smiled again. "Good night, sir."
"Good night, officer." Tim went up to his building, climbed the stairs to his apartment, unlocked the door, stepped inside and threw the lock. He took a deep breath and walked over to his box. It looked pretty good. Jerald had been right. Carefully, with shaking fingers, he removed the tape, reattached the hinges and looked at the finished product. Maybe some varnish? But not tonight. It was now nearly three-thirty a.m. Much too early. He'd have to get up way too soon. He set the box aside and walked into his bedroom. Taking deep breaths, he got ready for bed, walking around with a determinedly-slow gait.
He wanted to call someone, to tell them what had almost happened, to have someone tell him it was okay...but he couldn't do that. That was part of the problem...his continual need for help, his emotional overloads. Nothing had actually happened; so he didn't need to call and wake anyone up. What he needed to do was get the little bit of sleep he had available before the new work day began.
Tim sat down on the bed, looked around and, with a sigh, began to cry. It was a release from the fear...but it was more. It was the realization that he had put himself in that situation, one that could have been prevented easily...one that could have turned out very differently.
He fell over onto his bed, pulled his blankets around him and cried himself to sleep.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
The alarm came much too soon, and Tim felt ill when he pulled himself from sleep. Slowly, he sat up and rubbed his scratchy eyes. Bad, bad, bad. This was going to be a terrible day. He could barely keep his eyes open at the moment. Groaning, he stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the shower.
The water didn't get warm. Ice cold. Tim felt the water and groaned again. What a great addition to his already bad day. Well, there was nothing for it but to shower as quickly as possible. One benefit to taking a shower in cold water was that it definitely woke him up. Tim spluttered and made little shrieking sounds as he showered. It lasted about a minute before he jumped back out of the shower, shivering from the cold. The rest of his apartment wasn't feeling too great either. He had left the window open all night because of his box. He hadn't wanted the stain to stink up his apartment. Still shivering, Tim went into the kitchen, thinking that at least he could make some coffee and heat himself up...but no...the water was on for about two seconds before drying up completely. Tim glared at the offending faucet and then stalked to his door, intent on complaining to the building manager. When he opened his door, there was a note tacked to it.
To all tenants:
A problem with the pipes has required that all water be turned off from 6 a.m. Tuesday to 8:30 p.m. Tuesday. We apologize for the inconvenience.
Management.
Great. Now, he couldn't even complain. He supposed that he must have been too frightened when he got back from the park that morning to notice the message. Tim shivered once more and decided just to head into work right then. A stop at a Starbucks or something would still get him his coffee and give him a chance to warm up.
He was the first one into work, beating rush hour traffic and the long lines at the coffee shops because of the early hour. He set his stuff down by his computer and then headed down to Abby's lab to get started on tracking down the hacker.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"Tim?" Abby asked tentatively. Tim was sitting at the computer working. He hadn't even flinched when she'd turned on her music. "Tim?"
Still no response. Abby walked over and touched him on the shoulder. He jumped up and spun around, his eyes terrified for a moment before he blinked and noticed her.
"Abby!" He breathed out. "Oh...don't do that. Man, you startled me."
"Why're you so jumpy?"
Tim just shrugged. "No reason. I stayed up too late, the water's off in my building. I'm just out of whack."
"You sure?"
"Yeah, Abby, I'm fine."
"You didn't ever call me back."
"I lost track of the time. I'm sorry. It was nearly two before I even thought about my phone."
"Tim..."
"Abby, it's okay. Really. I'm fine."
Abby didn't believe him, but she didn't want to make him more self-conscious. "Okay, if you're sure."
"I'm sure."
"Then, you don't mind going after the hacker by yourself for a bit?"
"Not at all."
"Okay." Abby left Tim to his work, but she kept looking back. The mask was gone, mostly, but she found it hard to believe that he was really okay. He had been positively spooked by her entrance.
But Tim didn't offer any insights. Instead, he worked...and dozed. She caught him drifting off a couple of times, but he woke up on his own.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"Hey, Tim?"
Snore.
"Tim?"
Tim was out...like a light. Completely and utterly out. Abby smiled a little, but she shook him awake. He started but nothing like that morning.
"Tim?"
A large yawn and Tim woke up. "What? Did I miss something?"
"About an hour of work."
His eyes went wide in a state of simulated alertness. "An hour? I fell asleep for an hour?"
"Yeah...how late did you go to bed?"
"After three."
"What were you doing?"
Tim shrugged. "Nothing important. Time just got away from me is all."
"Well, I hope you made some progress because Gibbs wants a report on it."
"I did make some...but not enough."
"I'll let you tell him that, then," Abby said smiling. "Then, after he finishes cussing you, we can work on it together again. I'm mostly caught up."
"You might have to reassemble the pieces first."
"Come on, Tim. No sense in postponing the inevitable."
"I think there might be," Tim replied, but he got up and followed.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"So...you haven't found him."
"Or her," Abby interjected. Gibbs just glared.
"No, Boss. Not yet. I'm sorry."
"Sorry doesn't mean anything in this case, McGee."
"Boss..." Tony began.
Gibbs ignored him.
Tim did not. "What, Tony?"
"You look like a zombie, McGee. How did you get anything done?"
"Same way I always do, Tony...I work."
"Uh-huh."
Tim looked from Tony to Ziva to Gibbs...to Abby. And he was fed up. He was fed up with the looks, the problems, the delays, the way everyone tiptoed around him, with everything churning around inside his head. He was sick of it all.
"Tony, I know you guys are all tired of me."
"McGee..."
"Let me finish!" he said loudly. He wasn't shouting, but he was tired and he was still a bit wound up from the people following him; it loosened his already loosened sense of discretion. "This whole things sucks. It really does. That's why I didn't want anyone to call me last night. I'm tired of everyone worrying about me breaking down every minute...more than that I'm tired of the fact that the possibility exists that I'll break down at any minute. I wish it wasn't true. I wish it hadn't happened, any of it. I wish that I could wake up and have all this be a dream...but it's not! It can't be and it won't change. I can't change what has happened to me, what I did. Nothing can. I'm doing my best to get back to normal, but it's taking a long time. I know that it is."
Tim paused to take a breath...and no one spoke into the silence. They just stared.
"I'm not mad anymore, okay? I'm not mad. I was yesterday. I was hurt. I still am. I was a little confused because you could have told me this before, told me that you needed a break from me or something. I know that dealing with me is hard. ...but this isn't your fault. It isn't my fault. It's just the way it is and it sucks but it is this way. If you can't handle it, please, just tell me. I can request extended leave or I can quit altogether. Just...don't pretend that it's okay...because it's not. It still isn't...all right?"
There was another period of silence. Tim was done, but everyone seemed to be waiting to make sure that he really had nothing else to say. Then, to Tim's surprise, Tony and Ziva both smiled.
"What?"
"McGee, did you not hear yourself?" Ziva asked.
"Hear myself? Of course, I did."
"No, Probie, at the end there."
Tim felt even more confused than he had the day before. "What do you mean?"
"You said that it wasn't our fault."
"Yeah...it's not."
"You also said that it was not your fault either."
"Did I?"
"Yes, McGee. You did."
Tim went back over his rant in his head. "Are you sure?"
Gibbs chuckled. "Yeah, McGee."
Tim reviewed his words once more. Yes, it was true. He had said that.
"So?" he asked, trying to cover up his surprise.
"So...welcome back to sanity, McGee," Tony said. "We've been trying to tell you that for ages."
Tim shrugged. "So...you were right. So what?"
Ziva walked over. "McGee, I am very sorry for what we said."
"You don't have to apologize, Ziva. You're right."
"That does not mean it was right for us to say it."
"You didn't know I was listening."
"That doesn't change anything."
"Yeah, it does," Tim protested. "You are free to feel I'm an annoying bump-on-the-log."
Abby came up behind him and hugged him around the waist. "You don't feel like a bump on a log."
Tim smiled. "Thanks...I think." He looked at them all, seriously. "You guys, you know this isn't the end of it. I can't guarantee that I'm going to be any easier to deal with."
"We cannot guarantee that we will not hurt your feelings, McGee," Ziva said.
"But I can guarantee that I'll give you more grief about that ugly box."
"Go right ahead, Tony," Tim said, smiling to himself, thinking of the box in his apartment. It needed a bit of sanding...and maybe some varnish. "That doesn't change its importance."
"Okay, I'll bite. What's so important about it?"
"It's a piece of crap," Tim said, smiling. He looked at Gibbs who smiled as well.
"McGee, if you're going to tell me that that stupid box cured you somehow, I'm going to have to smack you upside the head...and then tell Jenny that we've been wasting a lot of money on therapy."
Tim chuckled, but he shook his head. "No, I'm not cured, Boss. Just a bit better...and really tired."
"Why?"
"I stayed up late...staining."
"Staining what?" Tony asked.
"Just another project," Tim said. "By the way, could I perhaps borrow some varnish, Boss? I don't want to buy a whole can."
"Sure. You can drop by and pick it up."
"Thanks, Boss."
"Good, now, everyone get back to work...and McGee..."
"Yeah, Boss?"
"If you're going to stay up late woodworking, either hide it a little better or do it on the weekends because DiNozzo is right: You look like a zombie."
"I'll work on that, Boss."
Tim and Abby descended to her lab once more and everyone else got back to work.
