Chapter 38

Dr. Hicks opened the door and smiled.

"Good morning, Tim. Right on time," he said.

Then, he looked at Zahara who was clearly prepared to wait for her husband. He could see the strain on her face, and while she hadn't requested any help, he knew she could probably use it.

"Tim, go on in and I'll be there in a moment."

Tim nodded silently and went into the office. Then, Dr. Hicks walked over and sat down beside Zahara.

"Have you spoken to anyone about this yet?" he asked.

Zahara shook her head.

"You should. You have time right now. Would you be willing to speak to one of my colleagues? She would be happy to do it."

"I... don't have an appointment," Zahara said, seeming a little awkward.

"I realize that this probably isn't something you're used to, but you're going through a very stressful time and you also are close to your due date. I really think this could help you. I already spoke to Dr. Clarence and she said she could if you wanted to."

Zahara rubbed her hands over her abdomen and looked down for a few moments. When she looked up again, there were tears in her eyes.

"Will Tim be all right? Are you asking this because–?"

Dr. Hicks hurried to calm that particular fear. "Yes. He's getting better every day, but this has been hard on you and I think you could use some extra help."

"Tim will feel guilty for making this necessary."

"We'll keep the appointment shorter than Tim's so he won't know."

She looked down again and then around the room. Dr. Hicks didn't rush her. He didn't know what the status of psychiatric care was in Morocco, but he could guess that, no matter the status, Zahara herself hadn't really had much exposure to it.

Finally, she looked up again and nodded.

"Yes, I will speak to her."

"Good. Sherry, could you take Zahara to Dr. Clarence's office?"

"Of course," Sherry said, smiling. She got up and gestured for Zahara to follow her.

Zahara clearly felt the weight and awkwardness of her pregnancy, and Dr. Hicks didn't want to add any more weight than she already felt. He also knew that Tim was starting to become aware enough to worry as well. If there were any problems with the birth of their child, especially if he came early, Tim would feel as though he was to blame for it.

If they were all in a better mental state, so much the better.

Then, he went into the office. Tim was sitting on a chair, his elbows resting on his knees and his head resting on his clasped hands. He looked up as soon as Dr. Hicks came in.

"I was going to ask how things are going, Tim. That good?"

Tim sighed.

"Why am I like this?" he asked.

Dr. Hicks smiled. "You don't know how glad I am to hear you ask me that, Tim."

"What?" Tim asked, and his reaction was almost normal.

"You're thinking about your reactions. You're analyzing them and realizing that they're not your usual reactions. That's a great step forward."

Tim's expression was skeptical. Dr. Hicks knew that Tim's first breakdown had been much more severe. He had already been in a bad mental state and then when pushed, he had completely shattered. The brief reactive psychosis had lasted for a couple of weeks before Tim had even started to reconnect with reality. This time, it had only taken a few days. Still hard, still a sign of damage, but not as extensive as it had been.

"I mean it. The simple act of asking what is wrong means that you're ready to start fixing the problem. And that's a good thing."

"Okay. So why? I feel like... everything inside my head is so scrambled. I can't think straight. I can't be... logical. I can't... Why am I like this?" He dropped his head into his hands.

Dr. Hicks sat down beside him and patted his back.

"Tim, this is your weak spot. It always will be. You haven't been like this in years because you haven't had to do this in years. You were forced to do the one thing you always said you would never do. That was bad enough. But then..."

Tim stood up abruptly and walked away, to the window.

"Someone died for you," Dr. Hicks finished, gently.

He could see Tim's hands clenching into fists and Tim started breathing more loudly.

"And that makes you angry."

No response.

"Tim, how are you feeling right at this moment? What are you thinking about?"

"I... I want..." Tim spun back to face him. "I want them dead! I want to... I want to kill the people who did this to me. Who tore me apart, who... who... My wife can't..."

He was losing his coherence as he tried to articulate how he felt. Dr. Hicks wasn't surprised by that. Tim was getting better, but he wasn't fully able to confront everything that had happened.

"Tim, come and sit down."

Tim was shaking as he sat down on a chair.

"Take some slow, deep breaths. Let yourself calm down."

Tim took some shaky breaths and stared at the floor.

"I hate what I'm doing, how it's affecting Zahara. I know it is...but I can't seem to..."

"Not yet, but you will. Tim, you're improving every time I see you."

"I still hate them. When I think about it, it... it turns off my brain."

"That's why we keep working on it. Just work on calming down."

And to his credit, Tim did make the effort, and that was why Dr. Hicks was so confident that recovery was possible. Tim wanted to recover. While he was still uncontrollably angry about his captors, while he felt intense grief that he wasn't really wanting to express, ultimately, he didn't want this feeling to continue.

So even while wishing that Tim didn't have to go through it, Dr. Hicks was pleased with the progress he was seeing.

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

Zahara felt very tentative as she stepped into the office. While she knew that Tim needed this kind of help, she wasn't sure what it actually involved.

"Hello, Mrs. McGee. My name is Dr. Clarence. Dr. Hicks told me you would be stopping by."

The woman who approached her was very petite. Shorter than Ziva but her hair was pulled back in dozens of tiny braids, some of which appeared to have beadwork woven in. Zahara tried to smile, but she felt too worried.

"Now, correct me if I'm wrong, but I understand that your husband sees Dr. Hicks regularly?"

"Yes."

"And you've never seen a psychiatrist for anything, correct?"

"Yes," Zahara said again.

"All right. Well, come in and sit down. You look like you could use the time off your feet."

Zahara was glad to sit down, and she had to admit to some curiosity about this doctor.

"May I ask you a question?" she asked. "It has nothing to do with why I am here."

"Of course."

"How long does it take to braid your hair that way? It must be very difficult."

Dr. Clarence chuckled. "Oh, I don't do this myself. I have someone do it for me, but yes, it's very time-consuming, hours. I generally leave it like this for weeks. I'd never have the patience to do it every morning."

"Oh, I see. It is lovely."

"Thank you. May I ask when you're due?"

"A few weeks."

"And you're very worried about your husband."

"Yes," Zahara said again. "It has been... so hard to see him as he is, to know that he can't help the way he is right now. I want to help him, but it is so frightening."

"Has he hurt you in any way?"

"No! No, he has not," Zahara said, quickly and earnestly. The last thing she wanted was for someone to think that about Tim. "I have never seen him like this. He told me about the problems he has had but..."

"But they weren't real until now," Dr. Clarence said sympathetically.

"No. He has had nightmares before, but... not like this. And before it all happened, we were so happy," Zahara said, and she began to cry. "Now, every day is a struggle to get through. Tim barely smiles and he is so sad and scared and angry and... and I don't know what to do."

Dr. Clarence sat down beside her and held out a box of Kleenex. As she sat there, Zahara found herself talking even more about her family, how frightened she was that nothing would ever be the same again.

Dr. Clarence didn't say much, but she sat and listened.

And Zahara was surprised to find that it helped.

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

Ziva sat in her car, wondering if this was the best idea she'd ever had. But it was the only idea and she was going to carry through on it before she talked herself out of it.

So she got out of the car and walked up to a house she'd only been in once before (and the owners hadn't been there at the time). She stopped at the door and hesitated for a moment before knocking.

Then, she mastered the impulse to run back to her car and get in before anyone answered.

The door opened.

"Oh... Agent David... I'm surprised to see you here."

Ziva smiled.

"Hello, Mrs. Carew. I am sorry that I did not call first."

Tamara smiled. "That's quite all right. What can I do for you?"

"I know that your husband has been not in the best health. Would it be all right if I spoke to him?"

"Yes, it would."

That wasn't Tamara. She turned around, but not before Ziva caught a glimpse of a slightly exasperated expression on her face.

"What do you need, Agent David?" Levi asked, coming into view.

He definitely looked much better than he had when they had rescued Tim, but at the same time, he still looked frail. That he was still suffering from the effort he had expended in finding Tim really surprised Ziva more than she had thought. She almost changed her mind, but this shouldn't be too much for him to manage.

"Merely some of your time, perhaps some of your ideas."

Levi's expression was one of surprise and curiosity.

"Oh? Well, come in."

"Levi," Tamara said.

Levi stopped and looked at his wife and Ziva saw something that she would never have ascribed to Levi Carew in a million years.

Tenderness.

Levi smiled at Tamara and cupped his hand on her cheek. He didn't say a word, and neither did she.

Then, the moment was abruptly over and he looked back at Ziva.

"Come on back, Agent David."

He led her to a small living room and gestured for her to sit on the couch.

"Now, what brings you to me of all people? I wouldn't expect you to be seeking me out for any reason. Are you here to tell me about how Tim is doing?"

"No, although I can do that as well."

"How is he doing?"

For some reason, Ziva felt no hesitation in giving the information that Levi was requesting.

"He has become afraid of going outside, but he went out with me this morning."

"He's still having therapy, I hope," Levi said.

"Yes. Every day."

"Good." He took a deep breath. "Other than that?"

"Physically, he is getting much better. Tim is still having nightmares, but he is sleeping and that has helped."

Levi nodded. "All right. So what is it that you think I can help with? Although I don't want to admit it, physically, I'm good for very little at the moment, and I promised Tamara that I'd let myself recover."

"Physically, I do not think there is anything you can help with," Ziva said. "But you know the world in which Tim has been forced to live."

"Ah. So what is it?"

"Tim told me this morning that he can't deal with this anymore. He said he can't handle being a target. He said that he would rather have the government hide him away than have to go through this again."

Levi nodded again. "Unfortunate but unsurprising, all things considered."

"My question is... can you think of any way that we could give Tim the safety he needs? That we could keep him from dealing with this again?"

"Can I guarantee it? Absolutely not," Levi said. "No matter how much you do, there will always be the potential for something like this to happen again."

Before Ziva could express disappointment, Levi went on.

"But could I possibly lessen the likelihood of it happening again? I don't know, to be honest. It's been years since I was actively involved...and yet... this isn't the kind of thing that will be done through official channels anyway." He mulled it over for a few seconds. "I can't give you an answer right at this moment, Agent David. It will take some time to think about it and to implement should I think of anything. I hope you weren't expecting me to know right off the bat."

Ziva found that she could smile as she shook her head.

"No. I was not expecting a miracle. I was expecting that you could say one way or the other. That is what you have done. I cannot do this myself. I do not understand the computer world that knows so much about Tim, but I cannot sit by and let nothing happen."

"Even if that involves working with your mortal enemy?" Levi asked, smiling a little.

"My mortal enemy is not you, Carew," Ziva said. "Even I can admit that you have done nothing this time but try to help Tim, even at the expense of your own health. That is not the behavior of a mortal enemy."

"Color me surprised, Agent David."

Thinking of Tony's reaction, Ziva felt a stirring of anger.

"Some of us are willing to do what it takes to get things done," she said.

And then, Ziva got her second shock in interacting with Levi.

He gave some advice, somehow knowing exactly what she meant.

"Give him a chance to explain himself," Levi said. "He may not take it, given how stubborn he is, but give him a chance, at least."

"He does not deserve that consideration," Ziva said.

They weren't using names, but it was hardly necessary.

Levi smiled. "Neither do I...but you've still given it to me."

Ziva felt her brow furrow.

"Why would you care about this? It does not affect you."

"No, it doesn't. I don't care about it in and of itself. I care about it because, when he can think about it, Tim won't want to see the potential shattered friendships. It would make him think it was his own fault because his problems were the catalyst for it."

"And if he does not take the chance you suggest I give?"

"Well, you could always try to beat it out of him," Levi said, smiling slightly. "If you do take that tack, I'd suggest that you restrict yourself to a certain number of hits. Otherwise, the lesson might be lost on him."

Ziva was shocked for a third time at realizing that Levi was actually making a regular joke. It startled a laugh out of her.

"For the time being, however, I can promise that I'll start thinking about the solution to this problem and perhaps reach out to a few people who might be able to help." Levi looked over at Tamara who was ostensibly working in the kitchen. "And I'll do it all while staying home."

"I didn't say a word, Levi," Tamara said.

"You didn't have to," Levi replied. "Was there anything else, Agent David?"

"No. Thank you for what you're willing to do."

Levi stood up.

"It's not for you. It's for Tim, but I'm glad you told me about it."

"You're welcome," Ziva said.

Then, she left the house and got back into her car. She sat there for a moment, and she realized that she had every confidence that Levi would do what he said. She was at the stage of trusting Levi Carew.

In fact, she had more confidence in Levi Carew than she currently did in Tony.

Angry again, she decided that Tony needed to know that.

Right now.

She drove over to his apartment, stormed up to his door and pounded on it.

"Tony! Let me in!" she shouted.

There was no response.

"Tony, if you do not open this door, I will break it!"

After a moment, she heard the lock turning and Tony opened the door.

"What do you want, Ziva?" he asked.

"I want to know what you are doing. Why you are abandoning us," she said.

"Later," Tony said, sounding a little tired. "I'm busy."

Ziva pushed on the door. Hard. Tony stumbled backward and the door opened wide. Ziva stepped into the apartment, slamming the door behind her, and got into Tony's face.

"No. Now. I have waited for days already. Why?"

"I'm not in the mood for this right now, Ziva," Tony said.

He started to turn away, and Ziva gave into her anger. She grabbed Tony by the arm, stopping him from walking away, and then pulled him around and shoved him hard against the wall.

"No! You cannot keep walking away, Tony!" she said. "I cannot let you walk away again. If it happens too many times, you may be too far away to come back."

They looked each other in the eye for a long moment and then, somehow, the feeling changed and Ziva let him go. She wasn't sure what had changed, but there was a different feeling and she couldn't hold onto her fierce anger. She was still angry but not in the same way. She let Tony go, stood back and watched as he sagged down a little and then walked to the couch and sat down with a sigh.

"Why, Tony?" Ziva asked, no longer shouting.

Tony sat there, not saying a word.

Ziva stared at him for a few seconds, wondering what was going through his mind. Finally, she walked over to the couch and knelt down in front of him, on the floor.

"Why, Tony?" she asked, again.

And all she wanted was an answer.