Chapter 38

Thirty years ago...

Sam started getting better. It wasn't easy, but he did start getting better. He'd had to give his report, but after that, he heard nothing for months. It gave him a chance to start thinking about something other than himself. Naomi's pregnancy was proceeding normally. She was becoming cautiously hopeful that this one would happen the way they wanted it to. So far, she'd avoided anything that might tell her whether the baby was a boy or a girl because she didn't want to get attached to it and then have another miscarriage.

It was still hard getting around, and his vision wasn't quite where it should be, but Sam was starting to feel something other than pain and grief.

Then, things changed.

Sam was sitting in the living room, trying to read. He was alone while Tim was at school and Naomi was doing some shopping. He didn't like these times because it usually brought him around to thinking about what had happened. In this case, his thoughts were leading him to Charlie. He hadn't seen hide nor hair of him in a few weeks, and he wasn't sure why. In the beginning, Charlie had been there a lot, giving him support in the hospital whether he wanted it or not. Now, nothing. Sam wasn't sure if Charlie was feeling a little put out at how he'd been lectured on the mission, but Charlie would surely show up eventually.

There was a knock at the door.

Carefully, Sam stood and walked over to answer it. When he opened the door, he had to squint a little bit from the bright sunshine.

"Admiral Jackson," he said. "Sir, I'm surprised to see you here."

"May I come in, Commander McGee?"

"Of course." Sam stood back and gestured for Admiral Jackson to enter. "Please, sit down. I hope you don't mind if I sit right away. I'm still not fully recovered."

"I don't mind at all. Actually, it will be best if you're sitting for this."

"What are you talking about, sir?"

"You have a decision to make, Commander."

"About what?"

"About whether you want to leave the Navy or go to prison."

"What?" Sam asked. He couldn't have heard that correctly. "What do you mean, Admiral? Why would I be going to prison? What did I do?"

"The report of your mission doesn't match that of your second-in-command."

"In what way?"

"Commander Leadore's account states that you authorized an attack on the village, killing dozens, possibly hundreds, and that you gave the orders to have it destroyed which gave away your position, leading to the deaths of your team."

At first, Sam wanted to laugh. It was too ridiculous. There was no way that Charlie would say something like that. There was no way that he would describe the disastrous end in that way. After all, Sam himself had been blind when the village had been destroyed. He couldn't have done it, and it was after his men had been killed. Charlie himself had been the one to tell him what had happened. This made absolutely no sense and Sam found he couldn't even think of anything to say.

"Commander McGee, this is incredibly serious. Only you and Commander Leadore survived. There is no one else to speak for you and they're ready to make you into their scapegoat."

"Commander Leadore said this? Are you sure?"

"I've read his account myself."

Sam felt like he'd been suckerpunched. This couldn't be happening. Charlie couldn't have done this to him. They were friends! Best friends. They'd been friends since college! How could he do this to his friend?

"This isn't possible," Sam said. "This... I can't believe this."

"Believe it. It's vital that you do and that you decide what you want to do about it."

"What can I do? It's his word against mine."

"I'm working on that."

Sam squinted at Admiral Jackson. He couldn't quite read his expression.

"What do you mean you're working on it?"

"I told you that I would try to ameliorate any fallout from this mission, especially if it came down to you having to disobey orders. I assume that you did."

Sam hesitated. It was Top Secret, of course, but at this point, he felt that his only ally needed to know what had happened. Besides, it was clear that Admiral Jackson already knew some of it.

"Yes. They ordered the attack on the village because of the bunkers built beneath it. I refused because there was no way that the people wouldn't have been killed by it. Our retreat was rushed because of the ambush. A lot of my memories aren't very clear because of my injury and for the last part, I was blind."

Admiral Jackson nodded.

"What I need to know is if you're prepared to fight to stay in the Navy or if you'd be willing to get out if that saved you from the fight."

"Where's Commander Leadore, now?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen him since your return."

"He stabbed me in the back and then turned around and ran," Sam said. He was overwhelmed with shock and growing feeling of fury.

"It looks possible. Certainly, his account does not match yours. I can promise you that much."

"Do I have any time to think about it?"

"Yes. I'm still working on it, Commander, but I think I can pull enough strings to give you a way out. You just have to decide if you want to take it."

"What do you think will be the result if I don't? I never had really considered leaving the Navy as an option."

"If you lose, prison. Possibly for the rest of your life."

"But these were their orders!"

"And they were illegal," Admiral Jackson said. "Not only unethical, but against international law and if they get called to the carpet for it, they can point to you and say that they punished the guilty party."

"Then, why would I have an out at all?"

"Because there's no guarantee that it will happen, and a case could bring unwanted attention. If they can keep it completely under wraps, then, they could let you go and get you out of sight, out of mind."

The enormity of what Charlie had done to him washed over Sam, leaving him more and more angry. He really wanted Admiral Jackson to leave so that he could react as he wanted to. As it was, right now, he had to keep his temper in check.

"I know this is a shock and completely out of the blue, but you need to know what's coming at you. By the end of the week, I'll need an answer."

Sam nodded and Admiral Jackson stood.

"I'll see myself out, Commander. Don't bother yourself to get up."

Another nod and, in a few moments, Sam was alone again. Alone with the knowledge that his best friend had betrayed him. He sat where he was without moving until he heard the front door open.

"Sam?"

He couldn't answer without sounding enraged. So he said nothing.

"Sam?"

Then, Naomi was coming toward him.

"Sam, what's wrong?"

Sam got up and walked away from her, but Naomi wouldn't be left behind. She followed him and stepped around so that he had to look at her.

"Sam. Talk to me. What's going on?"

Sam knew he had to say something, but he wasn't sure he could keep control of himself. He knew his voice was shaking as he spoke, but it wasn't from fear. It was from anger.

"Admiral Jackson was here."

"He just...showed up here? Why?"

"To tell me that...that my best friend just stabbed me in the back."

"What are you talking about?"

Sam turned around, the anger coming closer and closer to the surface.

"When was the last time you saw Charlie?"

"I don't think I've seen him at all since you got released from the hospital. Why?"

"Because Charlie has blamed everything that happened on this mission on me, and Admiral Jackson was here to tell me that my best friend is willing to put me in prison for what happened out there."

Sam turned away from Naomi and walked to the table. Then, finally, the rage came to the fore and he hit the table with his fist, as hard as he could. The amount of force really hurt, but it couldn't come even close to matching how he felt.

If Charlie had been there in front of him, Sam knew that, injured or not, it would have taken multiple people to hold him back and keep him from beating Charlie's face in.

Then, he slumped over the table, all his energy leaving him in an instant. All he could think about was that his best friend wanted to destroy him.

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

Present...

Tim wasn't comfortable under the covers, but he was sitting on something soft, so that was an immediate improvement. But what he needed was to work. Now that Tony and Gibbs were likely asleep and not staring at him or lecturing him, Tim figured he could make up for lost time by working through the night. He needed to get into the correspondence between Stidden and the Secretary of Defense at the time. Thankfully, he'd saved it all already because he didn't dare try to do any hacking from a hotel wifi and he didn't have his satellite hookup with him right now.

Once he opened it up, he was disappointed to see zero organization to it. It was like someone had taken every letter exchanged between these two men and dumped it without any regard for subject or date of composition. He stifled a sigh and tried to get it organized in such a way that it wouldn't take him forever to check through it.

He was surprised that there was so much. Stidden was fairly high in the ranks, but he wasn't important enough to warrant this much conversation with the Secretary of Defense.

Then, suddenly, without any warning, Tim remembered why it was that the name Stidden was so familiar to him. He kicked himself that it had taken him so long to think of it.

He's the current Secretary of Defense. That explains why there's been this movement on it. He was involved somehow, and now, he's abusing his position to come after my father.

That made Tim angry once again. It was bad enough that this was happening at all, but adding in that it was happening because of someone using his connections to attack a former naval officer made him furious. He wanted to scream about the injustice, but he bit his tongue and tried to suppress his anger. Instead, he kept slogging through the correspondence.

At least, he did until his computer suddenly beeped at him, telling him that the battery was almost dead.

It was a shock and Tim stared at the screen in disbelief. He wasn't done yet! Too many of the messages were still unread! Even worse, he remembered that he hadn't brought the charger with him. He had no cord to recharge the battery. This laptop was about to turn into an expensive paperweight.

"NO!" he shouted at the screen.

He dropped his head to the top of the laptop screen and felt like he'd just completely failed. He had only had this one night to get everything figured out before he was sure that Tony and Gibbs would force him to go back to DC. Now, he couldn't. What he'd found wouldn't save his father.

Failure. Complete and utter failure.

"Tim, what's wrong?"

The blanket was pulled off of him. Tim didn't bother to lift his head. What was the point in saying anything? He would have to admit to his failure, but he wasn't sure he could get any coherent words out, right now. He was too upset.

Someone put a hand on his shoulder.

"Tim, what's going on?"

It was Tony. Tim suddenly realized that he wasn't alone in the woods anymore and he'd probably woken up both Tony and Gibbs.

"Sorry for waking you up," he whispered, knowing that his voice would shake if he spoke normally. "I'll try to stay quiet."

"I wasn't asleep."

"Oh. Well, you can go to sleep, then. I won't make any more noise."

"What's going on?"

"Nothing. That's what's going on. I've lost my last chance to do anything," Tim said and all of his determination to force them to give up on him and leave him to his own devices gave way to the fear and despair he'd only barely been holding at bay for the last two weeks. "Maybe if I'm lucky, they'll let me share a prison cell with my dad."

"Hey! Tim, what are you talking about?"

"The battery's dead. I can't recharge the laptop. I didn't bring the cord with me. It's still in the trunk."

He heard the incredulous laughter and he did understand why that sounded so ridiculous, but at the same time, he couldn't think it was funny.

"We can buy you a new cord."

"What good will that do?" Tim asked, still not looking up. "I've found stuff, but nothing that will save my dad. I've thrown everything away and I still failed. Everything I wanted to be able to do my whole life and when it came down to it, I couldn't. I failed."

"Why do you think you failed?"

That was Gibbs. Tim almost straightened at his voice, but he didn't bother. After all, he no longer worked for NCIS. He didn't have that job. He wasn't on Gibbs' team. In fact, he was going to end up in prison. What was the point?

"You're going to take me back to DC, and there's nothing I've found that will help. I know what happened, now. I know whose fault this is, but I don't know who was pulling the strings. I know something, but not everything and I have nothing but my dad's word against Charlie's. I thought I could get through all the stuff I found tonight before you forced me back, but I couldn't, and now, it's late and the laptop is dead. I can't go and get a new cord now, and even if I could, I don't have a car to get anywhere. I don't have any money with me. I gave it all to you. I don't really even remember where we are. My best wasn't good enough and that means that this whole thing was for nothing."

Saying it out loud was somehow worse than when he'd been thinking it. Saying it out loud to Tony and Gibbs was infinitely worse than just thinking it, especially when he'd been telling Gibbs that he'd fight to avoid being taken back to DC only a few hours ago. He was as stupid and incompetent as Gibbs probably thought he was.

For an eternity, there was only silence in the room. The laptop shut itself down, plunging the room into nearly complete darkness. Tim just sat there, feeling the weight of every day that he'd spent in that miserable shack, feeling the weight of his looming prison time, and most of all, feeling the weight of his failure.

Then, he felt someone pull the laptop away from him. He resisted for a few seconds, but then, let it go. What good was it? It was dead. It was useless. Like him.

Then, he felt the bed shift as Tony and Gibbs both sat down near him. No one turned on a light. Tim was glad of that. He wasn't sure he could hide his devastation at this point.

"Do you really think that little of us?" Tony asked.

Tim didn't say anything.

"Do you really think that we don't care about your dad or trying to help him?"

Tim still didn't say anything.

"I know that you've been gone for the last couple of weeks and haven't seen what we've done, but we've been trying to help however we can. Gibbs got Faith Coleman to step in as his lawyer. When people started trying to intimidate us, we took that on, too. We're trying to do what we can. Why would you just assume that we'd be willing to throw all that away?"

"It doesn't matter what you're willing to do. I can't do what I wanted to do, and we all know that this trial will be a sham if it happens. It won't matter who is defending him because there won't be a leg to stand on. Do you know who is involved in this?"

"I'm assuming that it's someone other than your dad and this Charlie guy."

"Jerald R. Stidden. Only now, he goes by J. Roger Stidden, the Secretary of Defense. He was involved in this thirty years ago. I hadn't found out how deep, but he was in it. The second most powerful man in the federal government and he's one of the people involved. There's no chance of doing it honestly or legally. If he's involved, he won't let it get away from him...unless he has someone willing to reveal his role. But I can't do that because I don't know what it was and my dad's account contradicts Charlie's account. There's nothing that can be done if I can't find what I need."

"So it's all about you?" Gibbs asked, sounding derogatory.

Tim supposed he couldn't blame him for what he thought, but it didn't matter, now, anyway. He didn't have a job.

"I don't care what you think about it, Boss," he said, feeling so tired of everything that was going on. "I don't work for you anymore, and as soon as I turn myself in, I won't be working for anyone. You can despise me all you want. That's what I was hoping for, initially, anyway."

"Why?"

"Because then, you wouldn't care when I was in prison."

"You're not going to prison, Tim. Neither is your dad."

"How are you going to stop it?" Tim asked. "I'm not the kind of guy who can just go on the run and hide for the rest of my life. That's not me. I have to turn myself in and I've committed federal crimes that carry penalties of 20 years in prison. I don't think they'll be disposed to mercy. That means that once we're back in DC, I'm in prison. And I deserve it, I know. I deliberately set out to break the law."

"You're not going to prison."

"If my dad does, then, it won't matter. I can't live with knowing that my dad is in prison or worse."

There was another silence.

"Tim, why are you assuming that we're going back to DC?" Gibbs asked.

"Isn't that why you were out looking for me?" Tim asked. "To drag me back there?"

"No," Tony said. "We were looking for you because we were worried about what might happen if someone else found you and we're ticked off that you decided to do all this on your own when you knew that we'd help you."

"I didn't want you to help me."

"Why not?"

"Because I couldn't ask you to help me with something personal like that. It would be wrong. Why do you think I didn't tell you before I was already gone? I didn't want you to think that anything had happened to me, so I told you, but only after the fact. I wanted to stay hidden while I worked."

Talking in the dark like this was both a little disconcerting and a relief. Tim didn't want to know what Tony and Gibbs were thinking about him. Unemployed or not, he cared about that, whether he should or not.

"Well, we're helping you, now," Tony said, finally. "I don't care what you wanted. We're here and we're not ignoring the fact that someone was gunning for you."

"Not necessarily," Tim said, trying to sound unconcerned. "They just shot out my tires. I don't know if they were really trying to kill me."

"Really, McGee? You're going to pretend that there's any uncertainty?"

Tim just shrugged and didn't answer.

There was another period of silence.

"You're not going back to DC," Gibbs said.

"What?"

"You said you're not ready. Fine. You're not going back."

Now, Tim had to turn on the light. He couldn't believe what Gibbs was saying. He reached over and fumbled for the lamp. When he turned it on, he was momentarily blinded and had to blink a few times before he could turn around and face Gibbs, ready for disdain, irritation, or even a joking smile and a "gotcha!", but there was none of that. Gibbs just raised an eyebrow at him.

"You're being way too nice to me," Tim said, looking at both of them.

"Would you like us to treat you like scum, Tim?" Tony asked, smiling a little.

"I don't know. I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."

Tony looked at him almost normally and then, grinned. He reached down, picked up a shoe and then dropped it on the floor. Tim couldn't help it. Even though he still felt like his world was about to fall apart, he couldn't help laughing at the ridiculous pun.

"Okay. That's done. Now, what?" Tony asked.

"We will make a plan in the morning. Go to sleep, McGee," Gibbs said. "You're not going to make any progress tonight and you probably need it."

"You're probably right," Tim said. "I don't know if you guys aren't making any sense just because I'm running on fumes or if you're really not making sense."

"Well, if you slept as well as you ate, I'm sure you need the sleep," Tony said. "And so do I."

Suiting actions to words, Tony got up and walked over to the couch. He lay down and closed his eyes. Tim shifted his gaze to Gibbs, asking the question without speaking.

"We're not taking you back until you're ready," he said.

Then, Gibbs got off the bed and walked to his own bed. He lay down and seemed to go to sleep.

Tim sat there, looking at his former teammates, wondering how things had so quickly gone from him wanting to get away from them to keep working to him being glad they were here.

He turned out the lamp and lay down on the bed. It was so soft. It was amazing how soft a hotel mattress could feel after sleeping on the floor of a shack for two weeks.

The silence descended once more.

Then...

"And you're not a failure."

Tim lay there, feeling his throat tighten dangerously. He swallowed hard.

"Thanks," he whispered. He almost said boss, but he should get used to not using that since he'd quit.

Then, he tried to get to sleep.