Chapter 36

Ziva sat down at a desk and began to write. It had been weeks since she'd been able to reply to Tim's last letter, and she didn't want to put it off again.

Dear Tim,

Thank you for the Starbursts. I have actually had something similar when I was in Europe. They are called Opal Fruits.

It has been a hard month for me and seeing your letters gives me something to smile about. No, I have not stopped having nightmares, but I am surviving. My father has actually given me time to recover after every mission. He has given up keeping ties to our former country, but I feel he regrets it even as he embraces the U.S. because of its alliance with Israel.

Spring in Tel Aviv is going on now. We are leaving the rainy season and headed for summer.

I hope that you are happy.

Ziva

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

Tim found himself pulled into the house, into the study and then pushed down on the couch. Then, his mother looked him in the eye and analyzed him. He could see it in her eyes. She was seeing how much he'd changed. It was clear enough that she was distressed by what she saw, but Tim just smiled a little.

"I'm different," he said.

"Yes."

"I can't pretend that I'm the same."

"I don't want you to, Tim. I hate that you felt like you had to hide from us."

"Not from you, Mom."

Margaret sighed. "Your father."

"I talked to him."

"You did?"

"Yeah. On base. He didn't say much."

"What did you say?"

Tim hesitated. The anger had ebbed and he wasn't sure he wanted to tell his mother about that.

She noticed.

"Tell me, Tim."

"I told him how much I hate him for what he said before. ...and I do, Mom. I wasn't just saying that. I hate him, and I never thought I would, not through all the times we disagreed on things. But I felt trapped while I was out there. I felt like there was nowhere I could go. Out there, I was always at risk of dying...and there are things that...that happened. I don't want to tell you, Mom. Those things...and I couldn't even think that I could leave eventually. I was stuck there...because of Dad. Mom...I don't...I don't even know...if I want to see him again."

Margaret was quiet for a few seconds. Neither of his parents were particularly talkative and so Tim was used to the silence. ...but still, he felt some need to fill it.

"I hate my own father," he said softly.

Margaret walked over so that she could sit right beside him. She put her arm around his shoulders.

"Tim, what happened to you out there?"

"Bad things," Tim whispered. "Awful things. Some things that I did...some things that I saw..."

"Do you regret going?"

"No, but I regret going with the knowledge that I couldn't come back. I feel like Dad would have been okay if I had died out there so long as I didn't tarnish his reputation."

"That's not true, Tim. Your father has his faults...and we've talked about them quite a bit in the last few months, but he never wanted you dead."

"Then, why couldn't he say it?"

Margaret sighed again. "Because your father doesn't like expressing himself. Not to anyone."

Tim sighed himself. "I don't want to see him, Mom...not until he's willing to...to accept what I chose to do. If he can't say it, then I don't believe he can feel it. I'm his son!"

"Yes, you are, and you will always be my son, no matter what your father chooses. Sarah won't reject you, either. She's been really upset since Christmas. I think she hoped you would show up."

"I couldn't."

"I understand, but, Tim, please don't hide yourself from us anymore. When your CO showed up here and...and told me that you'd been back but that you hadn't told us...I was horrified. I was afraid. I wondered if I'd ever see my son again."

"I'm sorry. I couldn't come," Tim said. "And I can't stay. Mom, I'm only barely holding it together as it is. I have...nightmares every night about what happened back there. I have times when...when I've hurt people because I forget where I am. ...and with Dad being the way he is...I can't deal with that. There's too much that I'm trying to deal with."

Margaret nodded. "I won't try to force you, Tim. Please, just don't hide from us. Let us know where you are, what you're doing...and visit us sometimes."

Tim took a breath. As much as he was happy to see his mother, to know that she wasn't rejecting him, he was feeling tense and he wanted to escape from that. The tension was more likely to bring him into a situation that he couldn't control.

"Mom, I will let you...but I can't promise to come...not until I...I feel more...like myself. I don't know when that will be."

"Where will you be, Tim?"

"Pennsylvania, for now. It's a small town...called Stillwater. I've been there for about a year."

"Are you going to finish at MIT?"

"I don't know. Part of me wants to," Tim admitted, "but another part can't imagine going back to something like that. After seeing what people do to each other...something so...so normal... I just don't know."

"Will you let me give you some advice?"

Tim nodded, even as he wanted to get away from the stress.

"You should finish. You should go back and reclaim your life, Tim. I won't pretend that I understand everything. Maybe I don't understand any of it at all, but I know this much: You deserve to have a life. You deserve to be happy. I will support you in anything that gets you what you deserve."

"Thanks. Mom...I have to go."

He thought she'd ask why, but she didn't. Instead, Margaret stood up as Tim did. She hugged him and then let him go.

"Tim, I love you. That will never change."

"I love you, too."

"Then, I'll let you leave," she said with a smile. "But thank you for coming here, for letting me see you, even changed as you are."

Tim smiled a little and then hurried out of the house. He got back into Jack's truck and leaned his head against the seat. Now, what?

Then, the thought came to him that Sarah might want to see him. That was an idea that made him smile a little more.

When he stopped to get gas, he'd call Jack and tell him. If he needed the truck sooner, then, Tim would go back to Stillwater right away.

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

The phone in the back started ringing and Jack answered it as quickly as he could. He was hoping that it would be Tim.

"This is Jack Gibbs."

"Hi, Jack. It's Tim. I'm sorry I took your truck without asking."

"Tim, I'm really glad to hear your voice. Are you all right?"

"I'm okay. Not great, but then, that's nothing new."

"Where are you?"

"If you don't mind, I'm on my way to DC...to see Sarah. I won't stay long, but I talked to my dad and to Mom. I'd just like to see my sister."

"Did your talk go well, then?"

"With Dad? No." Tim sounded upset by that, but he kept talking. "I shouldn't have expected him to react like a normal person. He said almost nothing. No apology. No regret. Nothing. He hasn't changed."

Jack could hear Tim's disappointment, but he was glad to hear him being mostly calm about it.

"And your mother?"

"Mom was happy to see me, but I couldn't stay there and she understood. She said that Sarah misses me. If you don't mind..."

"I don't mind, Tim. Tell me when you get there...so I don't have to worry."

Tim laughed. "You sound like my mom."

"Good," Jack said. Tim needed someone to express concern. "How long will you be gone?"

"A day or two. It's hard...being around them. I want to have the option...but I want to have the option of not being there."

"Hard? Why?"

"Because...of how much I've changed. I see it much more clearly when I'm around them...but they're my family, and I love them."

"Don't push yourself to do too much, Tim. A day or two is fine. Drive safely."

"Yeah."

"Have a nice time, Tim."

"I'll work on that. Thanks, Jack. Really. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Tim said good-bye and hung up. Jack was glad that there was at least a partial acceptance from his family, but it was too bad that his father had been so stubborn. Jack wondered if there was just a matter of pride keeping Tim's father from admitting that he'd been wrong.

Regardless, Jack knew where his sympathies lay...and they weren't with John McGee.

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

"Not bad, DiNozzo. Not bad. Don't let that go to your head, though," Darryl said.

Tony laughed. "But there's so much empty space up there. I need to fill it somehow!"

"Ha. Very funny. You pretend to be a dunce, but I know better."

"Hey, Tony."

"What is it?" Tony asked, looking toward one of the beat cops.

"Who was it that you spent Christmas with?"

Tony's brow furrowed. "Abby?"

"And you didn't bring her here?" Darryl asked teasingly.

Tony grinned. "No way, man. I'm keeping her to myself if I can."

"No, not her. Didn't you say that you went somewhere for dinner?"

Tony refocused on the cop.

"Yeah. What about it?"

"Who was there?"

"Ducky...Gibbs...Jimmy... What's with the third degree?"

"Wasn't there a McGee that's a friend of yours?"

"Yeah. Why? What's with all the questions?"

The cop shrugged. "There was a Tim McGee involved in a car accident today. I just got back from it. Thought I remembered the name."

All the jokes were forgotten. Tony walked across the bullpen to get the details.

"What? What happened? Is he all right?"

"Truck ran headlong into a bus. It was totaled. Don't know how it happened. Your friend got put in an ambulance and taken to the hospital here. Doesn't look like anyone on the bus got hurt, though."

"But he was alive, right?"

"Oh, yeah. He was, but he was pretty out of it from what the first responders said. Mumbling stuff about the war...or something like that."

Tony wanted to run to the hospital right then, but how could he do that when he was at work. He'd have to wait until...

"Hey, Tony, I'll cover for you...if Frank asks," Darryl said. "Go check on your buddy."

"Are you sure? We need to report in."

"Go. I can manage...but don't camp out there until your shift is over. Just check on him and come back," Darryl said with a smile.

"Thanks, man. Really."

"You can owe me one."

"Absolutely."

Tony hurried to go check on Tim.

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

Tim was trying to decide whether or not he had the energy to reach out for the phone and call Jack to apologize for the truck. He wasn't sure how bad the damage was but it was probably really bad. He sighed as he looked at his leg, propped up in a traction splint. He didn't even remember the accident. He'd just been told that there had been one...and that he was the one who had run into something else. ...a bus? Something like that.

The door opened suddenly and Tim tensed up at the quick approach.

"Man, McGee...you sure know how to get yourself into trouble."

"Tony? ...what are you doing here?"

Tony smiled.

"Checking on you."

"How did you know I was here? ...I don't even know exactly where I am."

"Hospital. In Baltimore. Where I work."

Tim smiled a little. "You work at a hospital?"

"Ha. Very funny. Glad you're not in a coma or something."

"No, I just broke my leg." Tim leaned back and stared at the ceiling. "I don't even remember the accident."

Tony walked over and sat down.

"What do you remember?"

Tim looked at Tony and a horrible thought struck him.

"Did anyone else get hurt?"

"No. Just you."

"What if I... I had one of those... I could have killed someone, Tony! I didn't even think about that...being a possibility and..."

"Hey, calm down. You don't know that it was," Tony said. "If you can't remember, then..."

"But what if it was!" Tim interrupted. "What if that's what happened? I shouldn't drive anywhere if..."

"Tim, calm down. You don't know that's what happened. What do you remember? Where were you going, anyway?"

"I was coming from my mom's house."

"Hey...you went home?"

"Yeah." Tim couldn't feel too happy about it yet.

"It went bad?"

"Dad didn't really say anything. He didn't say that he was sorry, that he regretted it...nothing. I told him I hated him and...there was no reaction."

Tony winced sympathetically.

"What about your mom?"

"She was glad to see me and said that she wouldn't reject me at all...but...but I didn't feel like I could stay. So I left and I was going to drive down to DC to see Sarah."

"What happened that you remember?"

"I was...getting closer to Baltimore. I didn't even think about the fact that you're here. I was just driving." Tim closed his eyes and tried to bring some memory of the accident to the front...but there was nothing. "I don't remember. I really don't remember. Was it my fault?"

"I don't know, Tim. Really, I don't. I just heard about it from one of the cops at the precinct."

Tim felt like he was failing somehow in not remembering, but he just couldn't bring anything to his mind about it. Something...but no.

"Tim, it's okay. No one on the bus was hurt. The truck was totaled, but..."

"Oh, man. That's what I get."

"For what?" Tony asked.

"For trying to get something done. I destroyed someone else's stuff."

"Hey...you weren't spared this time, Tim. That should make you feel better, right?"

"What?" Tim asked in confusion.

"You always wanted to be the one to suffer. This time, you are. You should be celebrating. This broken leg is probably the best thing that ever happened to you. Right?"

Tim stared at Tony for a long moment and then he let out a laugh.

"You're right. What am I complaining about?" Then, Tim felt like crying, especially when he couldn't really move much, couldn't get out his anxiety with movement. He was stuck in this position for the near future.

Then, he felt Tony squeeze his shoulder.

"You'll be all right, Tim. You call Jack?"

"No," Tim said with a sigh. "Didn't want to tell him that I wrecked his truck."

"Your mom?"

Tim shook his head.

"Did you call anyone?"

Tim shook his head again.

"Why not?"

"I just couldn't...do it."

Tony gave him a look.

"You need to call people. Jack won't care."

"Won't care? It's his truck!"

"Okay, he'll care, but not as much as he will about whether or not you're okay."

Tim shook his head.

"My life keeps slipping away, Tony," he said, looking at his leg. "I thought I'd...I'd do something, but I'm just...stuck again."

"This is only temporary."

"Weeks of this."

"Yeah. That's temporary. Besides...I don't want to be mean about it, but what more were you going to do?"

Tim wasn't sure about sharing his thoughts. He was so uncertain about it in the first place that he was leery about putting it out for others to know...if he managed it.

He paused too long. Tony noticed.

"Did you have...an idea, McGee? Were you going to do something?"

Tim shrugged and wouldn't look at Tony.

"Oh, you do! What is it? What's your idea?"

Tim shrugged again.

"Tell me! Come on! You can't leave me in suspense!"

"I was...going to...see if my old advisor would let me back. If he'd still be willing to work with me...so I could finish my degree."

"That's great!" Tony said. "Have you asked him yet?"

Tim shook his head.

"No. I'm afraid of doing it."

"You've got to do it, Tim. If that's what you want to do, then, you need to do it."

Tim forced a laugh. "I can't do it right now."

"Yeah, you can! You just need an address. I'll find that if you don't have it. I'll get you a piece of paper. Heck, I'll even drop it in the mail for you!"

Tim smiled, touched by Tony's insistence.

"Tony...when I joined the Marines...my advisor told me that I was making a huge mistake. He was against the war. I don't know if he'll want a vet."

"You won't know if you don't ask."

"I know."

Tim tensed up, feeling that antsy feeling of wanting to move around.

"I hate being stuck in this bed," he said softly.

He started shaking a little.

"I don't want to...be stuck here."

"Hey, look at me, Tim."

Tim looked at Tony.

"Take a breath."

Tim did.

"Just relax. You'll be in this for weeks, as you said, but it'll be okay. But if you start wigging out, you're going to hurt yourself more...and that just means more time spent like this. So relax, let the docs take care of you...and focus on what you're going to write in your letter to your advisor."

Tim took a breath.

"I'm used to being able to move."

"I know. I remember you running or doing push-ups when you were upset by things. You're going to have to find another way to calm down."

"Yeah."

"Hey, anything I can get you?"

"I don't know."

"Okay. That's easy. I have to go back to work and finish my shift, but I'll come by this evening. Okay?"

"Thanks, Tony."

"My pleasure. In the meantime, you'd better call Jack and your mom, at least."

"Yes, sir," Tim said and saluted.

"Don't you start that with me. Bad enough that Gibbs never could get you to stop calling him by his title. I'm no officer."

Tim smiled. It was strange how much just a quick visit in the midst of his new injury could make him feel better.

"I'll work on that."

"Do," Tony said. "See you later."

"Bye."

After Tony left, Tim took a breath and looked at the phone. He did need to call Jack.

He reached out and picked up the phone. Then, he figured out how to dial out of the hospital. It took some doing.

"This is Jack."

"Hi, Jack. It's Tim."

"You made it?"

"Uh...no. I didn't."

"What?"

"I'm really sorry, Jack. I wrecked your truck."

"You were in an accident? Are you all right?"

"I broke my leg and I feel like someone used me for a punching bag. I don't remember the accident, but...but Tony told me that the truck is totaled. I'm really sorry."

"But you're okay."

"Besides the broken leg."

"Right. Besides that."

"Yeah. I'm sorry I wrecked your truck."

"Tim, the truck can be fixed. It's old. I'm just glad that you're all right."

"I'm going to be stuck here for weeks now. I don't know what you want to do about the truck."

"Tim, I don't care about the truck. I'll figure that out. I care about whether or not you'll be all right."

"I'm in Baltimore. Tony's already visited me. Jack...I feel bad about asking this but..."

"What?"

"Would you call my mom for me? Tell her that I'm okay. It's just that...if my dad answered..."

"Yeah. I'll do that. Give me the number and I'll call her for you."

"Thanks."

Tim gave the number, let Jack reassure him a few times and then he hung up. He hated to be trapped anywhere, but as Tony had said, he needed to stay calm. He closed his eyes, took a few deep breaths and tried to relax.

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

Tony called Gibbs and told him what had happened when he finished his shift. Darryl had smoothed things over with Frank and since Tony had come back, he was willing to overlook his momentary desertion. After work, Tony tried to think of something to take Tim, something to distract him from the fact that he was pretty much stuck where he was. Then, he had an idea.

Tim had said once that he was a book guy, that he liked to read. He hadn't had any time for it really in Vietnam, but here was a chance for him to get back into that. Reading would be a great chance for him to relax while he healed.

Decision made, Tony headed to a bookstore and started scanning the shelves for books to buy. He found a few new releases that he thought might appeal to a geek like Tim had claimed he used to be. Then, he saw it. The perfect book for Tim. In fact, as he flipped through the pages, this book might as well have had Tim's name on it. Tony couldn't stop grinning as he headed for the counter to buy the books.

When he got back to the hospital, he hurried to Tim's room.

Tim was dozing, but Tony couldn't wait to see what he thought of the books; so he woke him up.

"Hey, McGee. Surprise!"

Tim's eyes were kind of heavy but they opened.

"What?"

"Surprise! Something to distract you when you need distracting."

Tony set the stack of books on Tim's lap.

"Tony...did you buy all these?"

"Yep."

"You didn't have to do that. Really."

"I know. I wanted to. I don't know if they're your taste, but if not, let me know and I can get you others."

"But, Tony..."

"Stop questioning. Just look at the top one first. I want to know what you think of it," Tony said eagerly.

Tim looked at the book.

"This is a children's book."

"Read the title, McGee. Out loud."

Tim looked at it and laughed a little but did as he was told.

"Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day. What is this?" Tim asked.

"A book that might as well have had your name instead of Alexander."

Tim read the book silently, flipping through the pages. When he finished, Tony saw him mouth the words even in Australia.

"What do you think?"

Tim looked up and laughed, but there were some tears in his eyes, too.

"Perfect, Tony. Really."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Good. I have one more thing for you."

"What's that?"

Tony held out a pen and a notepad.

"So you can write your letter to your advisor."

Tim took them and looked at them...and then, at the stack of books. He was quiet for a few seconds.

"I used to like reading," he said softly.

Tony sat down.

"You can do that again."

"Maybe."