Chapter 35
Tim sat on the couch and looked around the room. Just this one room was probably at least the same size as his whole house had been. Ducky's house had been bigger than his own, but something about Gibbs' house just seemed huge. Maybe it was just a perception thing. Maybe it was because he felt so out of place.
Why am I here?
Hazard hadn't been good, not at all, but it had been home. Now, he had left it. He didn't want to go back, but what was waiting for him here? His only experience with something outside of Hazard had been when his mother had...
Abruptly, he stopped his thoughts. He didn't want to go back to that again. He stood up and started pacing, wondering when this antsy feeling would leave. Maybe it had been a mistake to let the agents take him with them. Maybe he shouldn't have left. Hazard was all he had.
And all you had was horrible.
Tim took a breath and forced himself to sit down.
He wondered where Gibbs had gone. There was a set of stairs going up. (A second floor!) However, he didn't remember Gibbs ever going up there. Tim wasn't sure about exploring this house at all. It wasn't his home. It was a foreign place, something he didn't know anything about.
He got up and walked tentatively to a doorway.
A kitchen.
A big one. ...at least, it was big in comparison to his own.
I should stop comparing. I know my house is a dump.
It wasn't just the size, though. The whole feeling was different. Tim wasn't sure what it was.
Regardless, the kitchen was empty. Where had Gibbs gone? Tim didn't know and that suddenly made him really nervous. He needed to know where he was. Tim didn't know Gibbs well, but Gibbs was the only slightly-familiar thing in this whole space. For miles around him, there was nothing he knew...except for Gibbs.
The idea made Tim almost terrified. Enough that his reticence vanished and he walked over to a closed door and pulled it open.
There were stairs going down.
Down? Another floor? Gibbs had a second floor and a basement? Because of how close the river was, very few people in Hazard had more than a crawl space. The river didn't flood much, but it kept the water table pretty high. Having a basement was asking for trouble.
Here was yet another level to Gibbs' house. It was like a mansion.
Was Gibbs down these stairs? Tim didn't know, but he had to find out. He pounded down the steps and got to the bottom, only to see Gibbs staring at him with an eyebrow raised.
"Something wrong?" he asked.
There were no words for all that was wrong at this moment, so Tim just shook his head mutely.
Gibbs actually smiled a little and gestured to a stool.
"Have a seat, if you want."
"W-What are you doing?" Tim asked, afraid of asking the question but curious enough to overcome that in the wake of his returning calm.
"Building a boat."
"Why?"
"Why not?"
Tim shrugged.
Gibbs just turned back to his task. Carpentry was one thing Tim knew absolutely nothing about. The tools Gibbs had were unfamiliar. The shape of the wood was unfamiliar.
More strange things in a crazy world...and yet, these strange things filled him with curiosity instead of fear.
"W-What is that?" he asked, stammering a little. No one had ever liked him asking questions. He had learned to keep his mouth shut, even in the classes he had enjoyed. If he didn't know an answer, he figured it out for himself. Something about Gibbs, even though he was intimidating, made him willing to try asking...although he was still afraid of getting smacked down for it.
Gibbs turned to him again and held out the tool.
"It's called a slick."
Tim reached out, hesitated and then took the strange device in his hands.
"What is it for?"
"Planing the wood, making it consistent and smooth."
"Oh."
Tim looked at it for a few seconds and then handed it back. Gibbs waited, as if to see if Tim would ask anything else, but then, he just turned back to his work.
Tim sat there, unsure of why he felt better, awkwardly sitting here with a near stranger, than he had upstairs alone on the couch.
Still, he also had a question that he ached to ask, but at the same time, he was afraid of getting an answer. The silent minutes ticked by. Gibbs said nothing. Tim said nothing. Finally, though, he couldn't stand it.
"How long will I be here?" he blurted out.
"As long as you need to be," Gibbs said, not even looking up.
"No. That's not a good answer."
"Why not?"
"Because it can't be true."
"Yes, it can. It is."
"You can't really want me here that long."
"Why not?"
"Because no one wants me anywhere for long."
Gibbs put down the slick and looked at Tim.
"As long as you need a place you stay, my home will always be open."
"But why?" Tim asked.
"Because you believe that no one wants you around. Because you believe that you don't matter. Because you believe that nothing can make your life better." Gibbs paused and then skewered him with a look that both heartened Tim and made him afraid. "Because you have lived your life keeping a secret that no child should have to keep. I'll do what it takes to change that."
"You can't change that part," Tim whispered.
"I can't change the past, but I can help you let go of it."
Tim looked away, first, down at the floor and then at the wall.
"I'm...tired."
"Okay."
Tim climbed up the stairs and left the basement, unsure of what to make of Gibbs' declaration. He knew that these people were saying that they cared and that they wanted his life to be better, but this was the first time he'd had someone tell him that his life would be better. What would that mean? Tim had no idea and no idea how to deal with it.
So he didn't.
He changed into sweats and t-shirt and lay down on the couch, hoping that he could fall asleep in this strange house.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Gibbs went to bed late, and when he walked by the couch, Tim was asleep. While he little relished having his living room indefinitely taken up by someone, he couldn't force Tim to take a bedroom at this point. Maybe later, after some therapy.
For now, he would just deal with it as long as necessary.
He went upstairs and got in bed. He fell asleep quickly. It had been a long day.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Another nightmare. Tim shrieked and cried for someone to save him from the monster. A year in Hazard had not made anything easier for him.
Margaret came in and sat down beside him. It was long after midnight and she was tired. Tim just wanted her to make things better, and he couldn't calm himself down.
"Tim, I am sick and tired of this. Do you know how much easier everything would be if I didn't have to worry about you, too?"
Tim stopped crying, almost instantly, and he pulled back from his mother, staring at her.
Instantly, she shook her head.
"No, Tim. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. I was just tired and worried. I love you. I really do."
Tim said nothing. He didn't know what to say. He let her hug him and then, he watched as she walked into the bedroom and closed the door.
He never called for her again.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Tim came awake, sobbing. He didn't usually cry in his sleep, but he had this time. He didn't know why.
That feeling of utter isolation and abandonment. It was so strong.
He sat up, trembling and shaking, trying to muffle the sounds he was making, but he couldn't calm himself down. He closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around himself, trying to stop the panic and fear. It always took a long time when he woke up like this.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, there was a hand on his back.
"It's all right, Tim."
Tim shook his head. He didn't speak because he couldn't get any words out.
"It's all right."
The words were comforting, but Tim still couldn't calm himself down. He didn't even know why this was happening now as opposed to at any other time.
None of that really mattered, though. What mattered was that he was still crying and shaking.
"It's all right."
It was interesting, but the simple repetition of that sentence was gradually penetrating the panic and calming him down. He didn't know how long it took, but finally, he opened his eyes. He was still shaking a little, but he felt as though he could control himself.
Tim looked back and saw that Gibbs was sitting beside him.
"S-Sorry," he said.
"Don't apologize."
"W-Why not?"
"Sign of weakness."
"That...f-fits."
"No, it doesn't. What happened?"
"Nothing," Tim said. It was true, too. Nothing had happened. Nothing ever happened. He didn't need something to happen to have a meltdown.
"Tim, what happened?"
Tim looked away. "Just...remembering. Nothing happened."
"What were you remembering?"
"Nothing."
"What?"
"'Do you know how much easier it would be if I didn't have to worry about you,'" Tim whispered with no inflection.
There was a pause.
"Who said that to you?"
"I had a nightmare. I cried."
Another pause.
"Your mother."
"She apologized. She didn't mean it. She was just...frustrated."
"Doesn't matter, does it."
Tim shook his head.
"I'm sorry, Tim."
Tim looked at Gibbs and forced a smile. "Sign of weakness."
Gibbs smiled back at him. "Yep. Nothing wrong with that."
"I don't know why now."
"How did you feel?"
"Alone. Abandoned."
"That's why now."
Tim didn't really follow that, but he didn't want to, either. So he said nothing. He hadn't thought about that night in years. He wished he hadn't remember it, now.
Then, he suddenly realized that Gibbs' hand was still on his back. He tensed and stood up.
Too close.
"You don't have to be here," he said, relieved that his voice sounded almost normal. "It's fine."
"It's not fine. You're not fine, and you know it."
"No, but it's still fine."
"No, it's not."
Tim turned around and looked at Gibbs.
"If I listen to you, I can't deal with the life I have."
"Good. You shouldn't."
"I have to."
"No, you don't."
"My own mother..." Tim couldn't finish the sentence. "She... I..."
"Nothing that your mother might have said to you or done means you deserve this kind of life."
Tim turned away again.
"I can't listen to you. I can't...not when...I just..."
Tim was getting an ever-stronger feeling that, if he let Gibbs tell him about life, he'd only end up even more miserable. The life he had was tolerable simply because it was all he knew. If he started entertaining the possibility of something better, he would only be asking for more pain.
"Whether you can bring yourself to believe me or not, I'm not going to let you keep on in the life you've had. It will get better, and nothing will change that. Not perfect, but better."
"Don't tell me things like that, Agent Gibbs. I don't want to hear them. I don't want to listen."
"Only because you don't know how it could be possible. I don't care about that. I care that you get out of the life you had."
"It doesn't matter what you care about. What matters is that this is my life."
"But it doesn't have to be. You're not going back to Hazard unless you want to visit Dr. Mallard. You're not going to fall through the cracks. You are going to get the help you need and you are going to go up, not down."
Tim felt the tears coming again. He couldn't explain why they were coming this time, but the mess in his brain was so common that he didn't care.
"Don't... Don't say that, Agent Gibbs. Please, don't talk about my life as if it can be good. I can't let myself believe you."
He heard Gibbs stand up.
"Yes, you can."
"No."
There was another pause. Tim wouldn't look at Gibbs.
"You were seven when you moved to Hazard. You were six when your dad left. That's old enough to remember. You were happy before all that."
"So?"
"So you've had good things in your life before. A lot of bad things doesn't negate the good things."
"They were all lies. Not real."
"You were happy."
"So?"
"Whether or not it was real for your parents, it was real for you."
Tim turned back and, for some reason, he was suddenly shouting, as if he could make everything Gibbs said go away by being loud.
"It doesn't matter! None of that matters! All that matters is what I have and that's nothing! Everyone is gone! Everyone leaves! Everyone dies! Nothing good survives! All that matters is death! Death and betrayal and loneliness! Nothing else!" In fact, he realized that he was now nearly screaming at Gibbs. "Life is about death and pain! There's nothing else!"
Then, again, he shifted without really having any control over it and he was sobbing again. He dropped to a chair and covered his face, partially because he was embarrassed about what he was doing and wanted to hide and partially to keep himself from having to see or hear Gibbs again.
And yet, while he was leaning over, bending almost in half, he felt an arm come around his shoulders. Gradually, he could hear the words being said to him. They were the same words as before.
"It's all right, Tim."
No blame. No shock. No anger. Just that little bit of calm reassurance.
"It's all right."
Even though it was a lie, Tim liked hearing that, and part of him wondered if maybe it wasn't a lie, after all.
"It's all right."
The arm tightened just enough to urge him to his feet. He wouldn't look up, wouldn't open his eyes, but he could stand. He stood and was guided to the couch. He sat down on it.
"It's all right."
Then, again for a reason he didn't understand, he spoke the one thing he allowed himself to wish for...perhaps because it was impossible and he knew it. Why not wish for the impossible? At least then, he knew he'd be disappointed.
"I want Mary back," he whispered.
"It's all right."
Just those same words again. The same arm guided him down onto the couch and eased him onto his side. Tim allowed himself to be urged into sleep. He didn't really want to sleep, but at the same time, he was so tired. With his eyes closed, there was no stimulus keeping him awake.
That voice came again.
"It's all right."
He fell asleep.