Chapter 19

Tim was still laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling when he heard the key in the lock, signaling Tony's return. Not wanting him to realize that Tim hadn't slept at all in the time he'd been gone, Tim rolled away from the door and closed his eyes.

The door opened.

"Hey, Tim. You awake?"

Tim rolled back over and opened his eyes.

"Yeah."

He sat up and stretched.

"Have a nice time?" he asked.

"Yeah."

Tony didn't elaborate, and Tim didn't ask him to.

"How much sleep did you get?"

"Not much," Tim said, admitting to that while avoiding saying everything. "But I rested. Called home."

"How are things going?"

"The girls were excited that they'll get presents," Tim said, smiling. "They cheered me up."

"So do you want to do anything else today?"

"Can you think of anything?" Tim asked.

"Well, I heard some people talking when I was walking back. The cemetery is supposed to be interesting."

"The cemetery?"

"Yeah. Some of the graves are supposed to be funny."

"Funny?" Tim repeated.

"Are you going to repeat everything I say?" Tony asked.

"Everything you say?" Tim repeated, grinning.

Tony rolled his eyes and smacked Tim on the shoulder.

"Okay," Tim said. "Where is it?"

"Just a few blocks away, I think. I saw a sign for it while I was walking. You rested up?"

"Sure," Tim said.

He wasn't sure about going to stare at graves, but really, how long could they actually stay there? He could handle it.

"All right. Let me go to the bathroom quick and we'll be off," Tony said.

"Okay."

Tim watched as Tony went into the bathroom. He sighed. He was annoyed at himself, at Gibbs, at the whole situation. He hated that this had ruined his day, that his attempts to be upbeat were so lackluster when he'd started the trip feeling so happy. He didn't even know why it had dragged him down so far. He was trying not to be upset, but he still was, and that did not bode well for tonight. He couldn't imagine that he wasn't going to have a nightmare or two, but they didn't always have him waking people up, and if he could possibly avoid it, he wasn't going to let Tony know. He didn't always succeed in keeping quiet, but sometimes he did.

Maybe they could just have an enjoyable afternoon and things wouldn't go as badly as he feared they would.

Tony came back out.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

"Yeah. Let's go."

They left the room and Tim let Tony lead them, but Tony kept glancing at Tim, as if he wanted to say something or wanted Tim to say something. But Tim was determined not to talk about Gibbs, not anymore today. If he could avoid it, not at all on this trip. Let Gibbs and everything related to him stay in the past where it belonged. Dr. Bourning had occasionally brought him up in their sessions, but Tim avoided the topic as much as possible.

"Tim..." Tony began.

"Is that it over there?" Tim asked, pointing ahead of them.

Tony looked.

"I think so. Let's check it out."

"Okay."

They walked over and it was indeed the Key West Cemetery, but it could have been in New Orleans with all the above-ground mausoleums. To Tim's surprise, there were quite a few people milling about and they weren't there for a funeral.

"Man, there are a lot of graves here," Tony said.

Tim nodded. "Yeah."

Then, Tony walked over to a mausoleum and started laughing. Tim thought that seemed a little insensitive.

"Tim, come and look at this!" Tony said, gesturing.

Tim walked over.

"Read the epitaph!"

Tim did. Then, he read it again.

And he laughed.

"'Pearl Roberts. I told you I was sick.' What is this?" Tim asked. "Is it for real?"

"It's a real grave," Tony said. "Or at least a real mausoleum."

"Yeah, it is. Look at this one. 'So long and thanks for all the fish.' A scifi fan."

"That's a scifi quote?" Tony asked. "Since when?"

"Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy by Douglas Adams. It's a series. Oh, and this one, too," Tim said, pointing. "'GROK – Look it up.' That's Robert Heinlein's Stranger in a Strange Land."

"You would know that," Tony said. "Well, McScifi, stand there and get your picture taken."

Tim found that he really could smile as he pointed to the Douglas Adams quote. Then, he turned back to look at some more, and he grinned.

"This one's for you, Tony," he said.

Tony leaned over to read it.

"'If you're reading this, you desperately need a hobby.'"

"This stop was your idea," Tim said.

Tony laughed and posed by the epitaph.

After that, they walked through the rest of the cemetery. It seemed like there were graves in every square inch of space. Tony read that there were over 60,000 graves in the cemetery and that it was only designed for 15,000.

"Man, talk about owning a tiny plot," Tim said, referring to another epitaph they'd read before (I always dreamed of owning a small place in Key West.).

"Yeah, they're squeezed in here, that's for sure, and more still will be."

"Look at that," Tim said. "'Gloria M. Russell. I'm just resting my eyes.'"

Tony laughed and took a picture.

They ended up walking through the cemetery for about an hour all together, but then, as Tim had figured, they were done.

Even though they weren't quite as affected by Gibbs' sudden appearance as they had been that morning, there was still a bit of a pall cast over the day, so instead of finding something else to do, they walked back to the room and hung out for a while. Tony called home to talk to Jo and then also his kids. Tim laid back and tried to relax. After that, they decided to get an early dinner at a nearby café.

But then, Tim finally had to give in to his all-day lethargy, as irritated as that made him. He was really tired and still more upset about Gibbs than he should be. So he decided to go to bed early in the hopes that the next day would be better. He didn't know how Tony felt, but he was hoping that, at the very least, he could actually sleep through the night.

He turned off the light, although Tony stayed up later than he did to watch TV. The soft sounds helped lull Tim to sleep.

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

Tony woke up very suddenly. It was still dark, so it definitely wasn't time to get up.

What had awakened him?

Then, he heard a sound. Heavy breathing. Since it wasn't him doing it, there was only one other option.

"Tim?" he called out softly.

There was no response.

Tony sat up in bed. He could see the silhouette that indicated Tim was sitting up in bed as well.

"Tim, what's up?"

The response to that question was not what he expected.

Tim swore feelingly, albeit in a whisper, but still didn't respond to him.

"Tim, what's going on?" Tony asked.

"Nothing, Tony," Tim said, finally speaking, but his voice was so soft that it was almost inaudible. "Go back to sleep."

Unlike the first time Tony had discovered Tim awake at night in a bad state, there was no power outage. Tony leaned over and flipped on the lamp by his bed and turned to look at Tim.

Tim was sitting on his bed, with his head in his hands, his face hidden from view. He was shaking. Tony suppressed a sigh. He should have known. With Tim forced to recount his case and forced to remember what had happened with Gibbs, he should have realized that Tim might not be able to deal with it. He didn't want to deal with it himself, but he recognized that Tim might need some help. He got up and walked over to Tim's bed and sat down beside him.

"Tim, talk to me."

"No," Tim said. "It's just a nightmare. It's nothing important. Just go back to bed, Tony."

Tony did sigh that time. The other problem Tim had: not wanting help from others...especially Tony.

"Tim... Can't you just once accept that you need help, that you might need help on occasion in the long term and stop being such an idiot?"

"I'm not... an idiot," Tim said. "I don't need help with this. It's just... a nightmare. That's all. I'm very familiar with them. It'll pass. I don't need any help."

"Tim, needing help doesn't make you weak or stupid. What makes you weak and stupid is refusing help when it's offered! It's hiding something hard for you from me so that you can pretend it's not a big deal when it is! I know that it's a big deal, Tim. Stop pretending that I'm some kind of outside observer when I'm not!"

Tim was nearly quivering with tension, but somehow, Tony could tell that any overture at the moment would be unwelcome. Tim still hadn't lifted his head, and Tony could guess why.

There was a long silence...except for Tim's breathing which still wasn't quite controlled.

Then, Tim swore again and sat up. His eyes were bloodshot and red from the tears he'd been trying not to shed.

"I don't..." he stopped for a few seconds.

And the floodgates opened all at once.

"I hate being like this, Tony!" he said finally. "I don't want to have help with something that's so... so stupid. It's been years. I've had therapy for years. It hasn't gone away. It's a nightmare. That's all it is, but it's never just that. You have so much going on and you need this break. And today ruined it. Today, it became all about me again, and I didn't want that. I didn't want to need that. I didn't want to need your help because I've had to have it way too many times, and I was... I was... I really was happy, Tony. Being sick and everything was terrible, but I was feeling happy, and now, I'm not. And it's stupid. And I hate it, and I was just trying to keep quiet so that I didn't have to need your help. But I couldn't." Then, all the strange anger vanished and he slumped down, dropping his head into his hands again. "I'm sorry."

Now, Tony put an arm around Tim's shoulders.

"Tim, today wasn't your fault. It was no one's fault. It just happened. I could tell you were trying to keep things going well and being fun, and I appreciate it, even if it wasn't completely successful. I'm not mad about today. It couldn't be helped. But I am mad at you. I'm ticked off that you would hide something from me because you didn't want to need any help. Tim, that makes no sense and it's completely unnecessary."

Tim was still tense and shaking. The dream must have been bad, probably made worse by how hard he'd obviously tried to suppress it.

"Was the dream about your last case or the other one?"

Tim forced out a laugh.

"Yes."

"You want to talk about it?"

"No. Not even a little bit."

"How often does this happen?"

"Not often. Sometimes."

"Is it always like this?"

"No. Sometimes, I can keep quiet."

"Is it always like this?" Tony asked again, knowing that Tim would follow his meaning.

"Most of the time, not always," Tim said.

"Do you wake Delilah up?"

"Most of the time. She made me promise to get help if it happened tonight."

"Then, why didn't you wake me up and ask?"

"I said I'd only ask if I couldn't keep quiet, that I wouldn't wake you up if I could keep myself from making any noise."

"Tim, you're irritating me," Tony said.

Another forced laugh.

"If you had just gone back to sleep, you wouldn't need to be irritated."

"Well, I didn't, and I'm awake. So you didn't keep quiet. Ask me for help, Tim."

There was another silence.

"Come on, Tim. I'm already awake, and I can see that you need help. Ask me."

"Don't need to."

"Yes, you do. Ask."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

Tony knew why Tim was resisting. He felt far too strongly the guilt of all the weight he'd put on Tony before, of all he'd put on his family. He'd never managed to get over that, no matter how much he'd been told that it was all right. He just wanted Tim to give in and actually ask instead of Tony forcing him. ...and yes, he was still kind of forcing Tim in a way, but only forcing him to ask for help, not forcing the help on him in the first place.

"Come on, Tim. Just ask for once in your life."

"No."

"Do it, you moron."

"No. Just go back to bed, Tony."

"No. I'm going to sit here and hound you to do what you promised Delilah you would do. Three little words. Two if you phrased it right. You can do it."

Another silence.

"Tim, it's not all about you, and it hasn't been for a long time. You're not on the verge of falling apart. I'm not either. You just need help tonight, not every minute. It's okay to ask for help. It's okay to need help. Everyone does. And really, you're being a little hypocritical if you don't because you told me that it was okay to need help sometimes. And you were right."

Another silence. This time, Tony let it lengthen out because he half-suspected that one of the things Tim needed was the talking to break through whatever he'd dreamed. In the silence, he'd fall back on what he'd dreamed without any outlet.

Then, finally, Tim sighed and spoke, his voice shaking.

"I need help, Tony," he whispered.

"Happy to do it," Tony said.

"No, you aren't," Tim said. "I know you aren't. I know you get tired of this. And if you deny it, I'll know you're lying because I get tired of it. There's no way that you don't, too."

Tony suppressed a grimace because, yes, he did. He didn't blame Tim for his struggle, but it was hard when it spilled over onto other people. Tim knew it. That was the worst part. He knew how hard it could be for other people to help him, and he wanted it to be easier for them. He didn't want to be the source of struggle for others. He just couldn't avoid it, at least a little bit.

Tony tried to think of something to say, when suddenly, he was inspired. Where the thought came from, he'd never know, but he remembered something, a picture he'd taken when they were in Acadia on their last road trip.

"Tim, I want to show you something, and I know you'll think it's weird, but I want you to see it because this is what I think of when I think of what you're dealing with. Yeah, it's hard, and it's tiring, but I just want you to look at this, okay?"

"Okay."

Tony grabbed his phone and got into the pictures. He found the picture he'd taken and the quote he'd added to it. Then, he forced Tim to sit up again.

"Look at this," he ordered.

Tim did and it shocked a laugh out of him that didn't sound forced and painful.

"What is this?" Tim asked.

"I took this picture when we were on Cadillac Mountain. I thought it looked like one of those inspirational posters and then I decided what your attribute would be and the quote to go along with it."

Tim looked at him, seeming almost normal.

"You made me into an inspirational poster?"

"Yes. Read the quote, Tim. Out loud."

"Why?"

"Because I said so. Do it!"

"'Courage doesn't always roar, sometimes it's the quiet voice at the end of the day whispering I will try again tomorrow.' Mary Anne Schumacher."

"That's you, Tim," Tony said. "You've had a lot of hard things, and most of them weren't even physical which makes them harder. There was all that stuff with Dearing. Then, Allison Jenkins. Then, this last case. Just being a team lead in general and being responsible for your team. And you add into that the stress of the twins, being the great dad you are... Tim, you have a fight most people don't, and you do it without people even knowing most of the time. Asking for help is not a bad thing, and yeah, sometimes, it's hard helping you, but I really am happy to do it...because I like seeing you happy more than anything else you could be. So I don't care that it's..." Tony paused and looked at the clock. "...almost two a.m. I care that you're struggling because of what happened today and I want to help make that a little easier for you. Let me. ...and just try again tomorrow."

Tim was still staring at the picture on Tony's phone. He smiled a little and even let out a brief chuckle.

"You know... when you were dealing your dad dying, all I could think was that whatever I did wouldn't be enough to help you," Tim said. "That I'd screw up anything I tried. Ever since I saw Allison Jenkins get killed and all that came after it... all I can see is all the times I messed up. What makes this worse than those other times is that I shouldn't be..."

"Yes, you should. Tim, this is a hiccup in our trip. But it's okay. You may always have this issue, but it's not like it ruined any other day, and you tried not to let it ruin this day."

"Yeah, but I failed... at least, for me. My day was ruined." Tim looked up from the picture. "I could hear her again, Tony. It was the first time in... in months that I could hear her. 'Please, don't let him kill me.' And it put me right back there again."

"But you got out. You're not in there now, are you?"

"No."

"See? That's better. Are you feeling any better?"

"Yeah."

"See? That's better, too!"

Tim smiled again. The smile was still weak, but it was an easier one.

"I'm sorry, Tony. Even when I try to make things easier..."

"The problem is that you don't see that if you make them easier for yourself, you'll probably make them easier for us, too. Just keep that in mind. It'll be better."

"Maybe."

"Definitely."

Tim shook his head and sighed.

"I just get so sick of this. The longer I go without it, the worse it is when I feel it again."

"What was in your dream?" Tony asked.

"A combination of the other case and this last one. I'd rather not go into any details."

"So what will help you get back to sleep?"

"I don't really want to."

"I know, but you need to. You're doing some of the driving tomorrow."

Another small smile.

"Will you trust me?"

"Yes, I will. I trust you, Tim."

"Would some music bother you?"

"Soft?"

"Yeah. I have some New Age ambient music that helps me sometimes."

"New Age?"

"It's only New Age because it didn't exist before."

Tony laughed, glad that Tim was lightening up a little bit.

"Well, I don't think it'll bother me. So turn it on and lay down and relax. Let yourself relax and sleep."

Tim handed Tony back his phone and then pulled out his tablet and started some music playing. It was soft and simple, almost like a musical white noise. Tony didn't mind it at all. He turned off the light and got back into bed.

"Did it help?" he asked softly as Tim lay down.

"Yeah. Thanks."

"Anytime, Tim. And I mean it."

"I know you do."

Tony hoped that the next morning would be brighter than this night had become. Thankfully, he was still tired enough that, after a few minutes, he could feel himself relaxing. He was still a little irked that Tim was hiding stuff like that from him, but at least, he felt like he understood a little better why he did.

Tomorrow would be better than today had been. It would.

With that thought, Tony eventually drifted off to sleep, hoping that Tim would do the same.