Chapter 35

"What's the problem, Tim?"

Tim looked up from the stack of boards he'd been staring at for the last ten minutes. He hadn't done anything when he'd come. Gibbs had started working, letting Tim decide when he'd talk, but he seemed to need a little bit of a push.

Tim didn't reply.

"Is it Carew?"

"Yeah, but not what you're thinking."

"What am I thinking?" Gibbs asked, curious about what Tim didn't think the problem was.

"What Tony and Ziva are thinking, that I should be worried that he'll pop up again and force me to do something else."

"That doesn't worry you?"

"No. Carew is done with that. I've learned not to make deals with him, and he won't try to trick me that way. He's left the CIA. I knew he was leaving before everyone else did. He told me."

"When?"

"A few days ago, in the evening when I'd taken Jethro out for a walk. He told me that he was retiring, and that I could still depend on CIA protection. I'm not worried about that."

"That actually wasn't what I was thinking, either."

Tim looked up from the wood.

"What were you thinking?"

"That you had something you hadn't told anyone."

Tim smiled and nodded.

"Yeah. I haven't. I probably should have, but I don't know if I want to deal with the reactions. There's been enough going on that I just want things to be normal. I don't know if I can depend on that happening if I start talking about it."

"Try me."

Tim sighed. "Carew says he owes me."

"Owes you? For what?"

"I helped save his daughter, and I wouldn't let us leave without trying to save her. He said that there was no way he could have let himself save her, and he knew that there was no way I could intentionally leave her. That's why he wanted it to be me out there, not anyone else. He knew that I would make sure she was saved if it was possible."

"He knows you pretty well."

Tim laughed a little and went back to staring at the wood.

"I wish he didn't. But I told him he didn't owe me, that I had no interest in collecting. He said that it didn't matter. He wouldn't be honest if he didn't tell me."

"So what are you going to do about it?"

"Nothing. I can't. I don't want to ask for his help, and I have no intention of doing so."

"But?"

"But it still bothers me that I can't get away from him...even in the abstract. It feels like, as long as there's something like that out there, I could still get pulled back into that gray area that I hate so much. I just don't want to have to deal with it."

"Sounds like he's not giving you much choice."

"He's not."

"Maybe he doesn't want to give up that connection."

Tim raised his eyebrow skeptically. "What? Why?"

"Maybe you're the closest thing to a friend he has."

"I don't even like him!"

"But you know more about him than anyone else does...and you said you can't hate him. That might be the best he can hope for."

Tim sighed again. "Maybe you're right."

"That doesn't mean you have to do anything about it."

"Doesn't it?"

Gibbs chuckled. "No. It doesn't. Just because it's what he wants, doesn't mean it has to be what you want. You're not forced to have friends, you know."

Tim smiled sheepishly. "I'm too used to being forced to do things, I guess."

"Get over it. You don't have to do anything but your job, now."

"It sounds nice, but...it doesn't really seem like a possibility, Boss."

Gibbs nodded and handed him a saw.

"Then, forget about that and build something."

"I don't know what to make," Tim said. "I really don't have any ideas right now."

"How about a box?"

"I've already done that. I think I can do more than a box, now, Boss. I mean, I'm no expert, but I'm not that bad, am I?"

"Didn't say you were, but you can also do a box."

Tim looked at the boards again. Then, he looked at Gibbs.

Gibbs shrugged. "You've been using that box you made as a metaphor. It's not bad, but it could be better. Make a better metaphor."

Tim looked at the wood and then looked at Gibbs once more. He smiled a little.

"Maybe I could make one that uses all the same wood...and has straight sides. ...and doesn't take as long."

"Maybe you could."

"Maybe it would look really nice. Maybe it would be beautiful instead of just not ugly."

"Maybe it would."

Gibbs turned back to his own work and left Tim to do what he wanted. Was it all over? Sounded like it wasn't, but at this point, it was on Tim to do something about it, not on Carew to call on him to do something. Tim had the power, not Carew, and that was a good change.

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

Tim looked at the wood Gibbs had supplied. It looked really expensive. He'd got some high-quality wood this time. Part of him thought that it was silly to focus on building a box when he had this problem he was stressing about.

...but most of him liked the idea of having something he could build and enjoy for what it was. No complications, no underlying meanings (unless he wanted to give it a meaning). It was just a project that he built for fun.

It was just part of his life, a life that had become his own once again, after years of being in the power of others.

He picked up a length of dark walnut and then, he smiled.

"Let's see..."

FINIS!