Chapter 24

The phone rang and Naomi ran to answer it, as she had every time it had rung since finding out that Tim was possibly in Maine.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Hello, it is Ziva."

"Have you heard?"

"Yes. Gibbs called us. He found Tim and... and he is still having a very hard time. He was just released from a psychiatric facility. Gibbs spoke to him and he is not in a good state, but he has had help from a man who met him there. He is staying at this man's house."

"And he's not coming back yet, is he," Naomi said.

"Not from what Gibbs said," Ziva said. "I think... Naomi, I think it is time for you to go to Maine."

"I think you're right. Give me the address and we'll be on our way. Will you?"

"No. Not yet. Tim will need time with you before he thinks about us, but we will want to see him, too."

"I've said it before, but thank you so much for everything you've done to find him."

"It was not just me. I have had help."

"And we're grateful to everyone," Naomi said. "All we've wanted was our son back, and now, we have the chance to get that."

"I am glad to help."

"Thank you. Thank you so much."

Ziva gave her the address. Naomi wrote it down and then said good-bye. She sat there for maybe five seconds and then she called Sam so that they could get going. While she waited for Sam and Sarah to come back, she started preparing for their departure. Over and over, she couldn't help thinking about the fact that Tim was alive, that they knew where he was. He wasn't in a good situation, but he was alive and soon they'd see him.

How soon?

She got her phone and put in the address. It would be nearly 14 hours to drive up there, but that was okay. She didn't mind that at all. She just wanted to get to her son. Sarah could help drive when necessary.

All that mattered was getting there. Getting to Tim, seeing him again.

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

It was almost evening and the shadows were casting long shadows into the bedroom. Tim was lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

They had found him. They knew where he was. If Gibbs knew, so would everyone else. That meant that they would come. They would see him. They would talk to him.

Tim wasn't sure he could handle it. The desire to run was growing ever stronger. He should have done it when Mark had revealed that he knew who he was. He shouldn't have stayed. He should have moved on. Why had he stayed here? Why hadn't he just...

There was a knock on the door.

Tim didn't respond.

There was another knock on the door.

Tim still said nothing.

"Tim, I'm coming in if you don't say anything."

"You'll come in if I say something, too," Tim muttered.

It hadn't been loud enough for Mark to hear him.

The door opened.

"Tim."

"I knew you'd come in anyway," Tim said.

"You didn't say anything."

"It wouldn't have mattered."

Mark laughed a little.

"Probably not. How are you feeling?"

"I want to run away," Tim said. "If Gibbs knows where I am, so does everyone else."

"Yeah, probably. Why run away from the people that haven't given up on you?"

"Because I can't see that it will help."

"You can't or you won't?"

"Can't," Tim said.

"Are you sure of that?"

Tim didn't reply. He just kept staring at the ceiling. After a moment, he felt the bed shift as Mark sat down.

"Tim, I'm glad you're doing better since you're not having a meltdown here, but you need to open up to the possibility of things getting better. Maybe I shouldn't have let your boss show up today."

"It wouldn't have mattered. I would never have been ready."

"But he said he doesn't blame you. He said it quite a few times."

"Yeah, he did," Tim said, feeling his throat tighten a bit.

"Do you really think he's lying? He didn't strike me as that kind of guy when he accosted me in my store. He's pretty blunt."

"Yeah, he is," Tim said.

"So do you really think this is the guy who would come up here and be nice and supportive if he didn't really feel that way?"

Tim knew the answer to that. The one thing Gibbs was not was kind and gentle. At least, Tim had never seen him that way. Gibbs was terse, pushy, and sometimes overbearing. He didn't mollycoddle anyone. He didn't do things out of pity. In fact, Tim didn't think Gibbs knew how to feel pity. Maybe for little kids who got caught up in things. Gibbs only had two soft spots, so far as Tim knew: kids and Abby.

"Tim?"

"No," Tim admitted.

"Then, he's here saying this stuff because it's true, because he really believes it and because he wants to help you. Whatever you feel about yourself, you know that he doesn't feel the same way."

"Maybe."

"Come on, Tim. Just admit it. You were wrong about whatever you thought your boss would say to you. He wants to help you...and I'll bet that everyone else feels the same way."

"Maybe."

"That's not admitting it," Mark said.

Tim said nothing. He wasn't sure he could keep himself from breaking down again if he kept talking and he'd already done that once today. He didn't want to do it again.

"Tim, your family will be coming. Are you going to doubt them, too? Are you going to put everything you've been thinking as the only thing that matters?"

"Maybe," Tim whispered.

"Tim, should I call Harris?"

Tim bit his lip.

"Maybe."

"Hey, remember that it's okay to be upset. That's why you're still here. So you can get help when you need it. Should I call Harris?"

"It's late," Tim said, still whispering.

"Not that late. I can call him."

"I hate feeling like this," Tim said, and a tear escaped.

He hadn't yet looked away from the ceiling.

"I don't blame you. I'm calling Harris."

"Okay."

Mark patted his leg and then left the room. Tim wondered why he was feeling this way when it should be a relief to have Gibbs telling him that. Why was he feeling overwhelmed by something that should be good? Why did it feel wrong?

"Tim, he's coming over."

"Okay."

"Tim, will you say more than one word at a time?"

"Can't."

"Why not?"

Tim swallowed and let out a loud breath.

"I don't want to cry again," he said. "I don't know why I want to."

There was a shifting of the bed again and then, Mark was pulling Tim off his back and making him sit up. He took a deep breath and didn't resist.

"Tim, you just got out of the hospital and you had a pretty intense conversation with one of the people you've been hiding from. I don't blame you. Harris will be here soon. Do you feel like you're going to fall apart again?"

Tim shook his head, choosing to look straight ahead instead of looking at Mark.

"Are you lying?" Mark asked.

Tim said nothing. Mark put his arm around Tim's shoulders.

"Okay. I'll just sit here with you."

"Thanks," Tim whispered.

They sat there silently until the front door opened and Harris made his appearance. And suddenly, Tim felt a moment of whimsy. It came completely out of the blue for him. He still felt terrible but he couldn't help it. He looked over at the door and he smiled.

"D-Doctor Livingston, I p-presume?" he asked.

Harris chuckled.

"You have no idea how often I've heard that same joke said by my patients, Tim," he said. "You're feeling a little bit overwhelmed, Mark said."

"G-Gibbs was here."

"Yeah, I heard. Not sure the timing was the best, but I guess it may have been what was necessary. If you're up to it, why don't we just talk a little bit."

"Okay."

Mark got up from the bed and Tim still sat there, staring forward again. And Harris dragged a chair over so he was right in front of Tim. He smiled.

"I know that technique, Tim. You're hardly the first to try it."

"Not surprised," Tim said.

Harris smiled but his expression was still serious. "Talk to me, okay? Remember that this is something you need to do. It's not a luxury. It's a necessity. What are you feeling?"

"Upset. Confused. I want to run."

"Okay. Upset because this Gibbs came and talked to you?"

Tim nodded.

"Why confused?"

"He said good things. I don't know why I'm so upset."

"What did he say?"

Tim looked away again. Harris leaned over until he was in Tim's view again.

"What did he say, Tim?"

Tim faced forward again and Harris moved back into his place.

"He said that... he didn't blame me, that it wasn't my fault."

"That is a good thing. You thought he would blame you, right?"

Tim nodded.

"That's a good thing. So why are you upset by it?"

"I can't... believe it."

"That's something you can work on, you know. It doesn't have to be a one and done. In fact, it can't be, not after a year of this. So why do you want to run away?"

"Everyone knows where I am now. I don't want to see them all... now."

"Why not?"

"Because... I shouldn't... and... and..." Tim stood up and walked away from the bed. He walked over to the window and looked outside.

There was a long silence.

"Tim, is it because of how long you've been alone out here?"

Tim shrugged.

"Think about it. How much is because you genuinely don't want to see them and how much is because you've spent so much of your time isolated?"

Tim thought about it. How many people had he spoken to in the last year? One, maybe two. Definitely no more than that at a time.

The thought of all of his team descending filled him with dread. And his family would come, too. He couldn't handle all that at once.

"Some of it," he said.

"You know, that's all right. You don't have to run away or reject everyone just because you're afraid of seeing them all at once. You can ask to keep things simple. It's not an all or nothing prospect."

Tim shook his head.

"No. It is. They don't listen," he said. "Not even Abby would..." He stopped.

"Tim, come back and sit down, okay?"

Tim did so, only reluctantly.

"Are you still feeling overwhelmed?"

He shrugged.

"Now, Dr. Lee said your biggest problem is not accepting help when you need it. Do you need help right now?"

Tim looked down at his lap and started fidgeting.

"There's no shame in it, Tim. It's okay. In fact, if you can reach out for help, that's a good thing."

Harris got up and sat down beside Tim.

"Tim, needing help is fine. You deserve to get the help you've been rejecting all this time."

There was a lengthy pause.

"Tim, do you need help right now?"

Tim nodded and closed his eyes.

"That's all right. Whatever you need, we're here to help you, and you'll have others wanting to help you in any way they can. You don't have to feel overwhelmed by that. People care about you and they want what's best. If that means they need to back off a little, they can. Just relax and let yourself feel without feeling guilty."

"I hate that Abby is dead," Tim whispered. "Nothing can fix it."

"No, but things can still get better."

Tim wanted to resist the urge to cry again, but he couldn't and he started crying. But it wasn't loud, uncontrollable sobs. It was just crying.

"That's right, Tim. Just let it out and see that it's all right."

Tim kept crying.

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

"What if he doesn't want to see us?" Sarah asked, breaking the silence in the car.

"Then, we might have to wait to see him," Naomi said from the driver's seat. "We can't force him to talk to us, but we can let him know that we're there."

"But what if he's decided that he can't talk to us? He can, no matter what he thinks," Sarah insisted.

"But we still have to respect what he wants," Sam said.

"He can't want to avoid us," Sarah protested.

"Maybe he won't. We won't know until we get there. Aristotle said, 'patience is bitter but its fruit is sweet.' That's what we can hope for. At the end of the day, we want what is best for him. Not what is best for us."

Sarah nodded reluctantly and the silence fell once more. Naomi knew that it was more because she didn't dare say that she wanted what was best for her than because she agreed with Aristotle. They'd been driving through the night, but they'd have to stop soon and let Sam lay down for a while.

They all wanted to get there as soon as possible, no matter what.

Naomi just hoped that Tim wouldn't push them away. She knew that was a possibility. It was all down to just how much damage remained and whether or not he would be able to accept their concern for him.

But no matter what else, Naomi just wanted to see her son. She wanted to hug him and tell him how much she loved him.

That was what mattered.