Chapter 26

Gibbs was sitting in his hotel room, wondering if he should go back and talk to Tim again or not. He wasn't used to being so unsure about what to do. This just was not something he usually pushed himself to do, but he knew it was necessary. Tim needed it, and Gibbs didn't know what to do to get Tim in a state where he could come back to DC, back to NCIS, back to his desk. Gibbs knew that his thoughts were somewhat selfish. He wanted things as close to normal as they could be and that meant Tim back on his team, but he also didn't think that Tim really wanted to be off his team, so that made him feel a little less guilty about it.

Then, his phone rang.

"Gibbs," he said.

"Hello, Agent Gibbs. This is Sam McGee. Tim's father."

Gibbs winced a little. He knew his actions had not done much to help find Tim. He couldn't help but wonder how much they might blame him for it.

"Yes, Mr. McGee."

"Am I correct in understanding that you're here in Maine?"

So they had come. It wasn't a surprise really, but Gibbs could have wished that he had a little more time to talk to Tim before the McGees had arrived. He felt he wasn't doing his job but if Tim's family was here, they certainly could (and probably should) claim precedence in trying to help Tim recover.

"Yes, that's correct."

"I'd like to speak with you if I could."

"Of course."

"Where are you staying?"

"At a hotel south of the town Tim's staying in. It's some old converted farm with a barn as part of it."

"Really? That's where we're staying, too. It was the first place we called with an available accessible room."

Gibbs didn't like coincidences like that, but at the same time, it made sense. They all wanted to be as close to Tim as possible. It made sense that they'd be looking at the hotels near the house Tim had purchased, just like Gibbs had. And there weren't many choices.

"Are you free at the moment, then, Agent Gibbs?"

"Yeah."

They made arrangements to meet out in the common area and then Gibbs hung up. He paused for a moment and took a breath. He wasn't sure what to expect from this meeting.

Still, he couldn't, in good conscience, put it off. So he took one more breath and left his room. He walked out to the common area and saw Sam sitting in his wheelchair. Naomi and Sarah weren't with him.

"Hello, Mr. McGee," he said.

"Just Sam. Have a seat."

Gibbs sat on a chair.

"What's this about?" he asked.

"We spoke to Tim this afternoon."

"Bad, isn't he," Gibbs said.

"Yes. It's hard to see him struggling like he is. Right now, he's not interested in re-engaging with his life. He's barely willing to see us, but I think we've made a little headway. Tim was still feeling a little overwhelmed and so we decided to give him some time away from us, but I know that you've already spoken to him once. What did he say to you?"

"That he can't go back and that he deserves to be punished."

Sam sighed and nodded. "I was afraid of that."

"But he also said that he can't believe something else," Gibbs added. "That's not the same as wanting to believe it."

"It's cold comfort, but I understand what you're saying. I think we all knew that it couldn't be as simple as just finding him and bringing him back, but I know that I was surprised at how bad this has been for him. And if this is how he is after actually getting help, how bad was he before?"

"A lot worse from what Mark said."

"What did he say to you?" Sam asked.

"That Tim had been drinking."

"How much?"

Gibbs suppressed a grimace. "Enough that he found him passed out on the floor once."

"Oh." Sam took a breath and shook his head. "The last year of Tim's life has been a tragedy. So unnecessary. If only we'd known about it before."

"If I'd thought about anything," Gibbs said. "I'm the one who let him go. ...I made him leave."

Sam shook his head again. "No, Agent Gibbs. Recriminations won't help in this case. It's been almost a year. Tim broke. That's the only explanation for what I've seen. He wasn't really thinking. He fell apart and apparently didn't try to get help from anyone. Why this one man put forth the effort it would have taken to get through to Tim in that state, I don't know, but I'll be grateful to him forever because I have to say that I think Tim would have been dead otherwise. In fact, we didn't say so, but we all were starting to think that he was. If you had asked us, we'd have denied it, but it was there, nonetheless. And even if you weren't doing what you should have to start, you are now, and I appreciate it. You're here, trying to help him. That matters."

"May not matter enough."

"It will. I have to believe that," Sam said. "Emily Dickinson. 'Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all.' Without hope, I couldn't have managed these last few months. We know where Tim is. We know how bad it is now, but that doesn't mean we can't hope for something better."

"Are you?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes," Sam said, nodding. "Agent Gibbs, we have had a horrible year. I know you lost someone close to you and that was a terrible tragedy, but I have felt like, every morning that we woke up, we lost our son again because we didn't know where he was. I can't tell you how much better it feels just to know that Tim is alive. To know where he is." He suddenly smiled a little bit. "You could turn my hopes into a hippo and it would still be light enough to fly."

Gibbs smiled, too.

"I want to help," he said.

"I think you'll need to. Tim has always looked up to you. You certainly intimidated him, but he respected all your experience."

Gibbs grimaced.

"I'm not saying that to be cruel, Agent Gibbs. Truly, I'm not. It's hard for me to admit that another person's opinion might be as important or more important to my son. He needs to hear from you, even if he may not want to. ...and I don't think he can take all of us at once right now. So yes, we'll need your help. Tim will need your help. But we're going to have to figure out just how to get it to him when he's still resisting being helped."

"That's the last thing Landon said before he died," Gibbs said, hearing those terrible words in his mind. "He said he was only trying to help."

"Help..." Sam whispered. "...by committing murder." He shook his head. "No wonder Tim is struggling with the idea of being helped now. He probably is afraid of what the price will be."

"Maybe," Gibbs said. "Do you have a plan?"

"No. Not at the moment. Well, at least, we don't have a plan any more detailed than to be there for Tim...whatever that entails. We don't want to overwhelm him with our determination to help him. We just want him to recover, and he hasn't yet."

"No."

"Do you have any plans, Agent Gibbs?"

"About the same as you."

Sam laughed a little.

"Well, then, I guess we just keep trying. We're going to try to talk to his friend here tomorrow and find out some details that Tim probably can't give us right now. And we'll see if he has any suggestions."

"He'll give them to you if he has them," Gibbs said. "He's not shy about it."

Sam smiled. "He's quite the hulk, isn't he. I don't think he means to, but he definitely looms. When he opened the door, Naomi actually stepped back a bit. She was so surprised by how big he is. And it's not that he's fat. I'd swear he's all muscle."

"Probably."

"Anyway, there's no way that we could ever thank him for everything he's done for Tim. He could demand compensation and we'd willingly pay it. We'd give him anything he asked for, but he hasn't asked for anything."

"He won't," Gibbs said.

"I think you're right." Sam sighed a little. "We can't leave Tim here. If he was here because he actually wanted to be, it would be fine, but that's not why he's here. So we can't leave until Tim is ready to leave."

Gibbs nodded in agreement.

"Exactly."

Sam looked at him in surprise. "Are you planning on staying here, Agent Gibbs?"

"Yeah."

"Can you actually do that? You have a job. I understand that Tim was on your team but..."

"He still is," Gibbs said.

"He quit, Agent Gibbs. A year ago."

"Doesn't matter. If he wants to come back, the desk is his," Gibbs said. "And I'm not leaving until he does. No matter how long it takes. No matter where he goes. I put him here, and I'm going to make sure that he can leave here."

Sam raised an eyebrow at him, and for a moment, Gibbs could see Tim looking at him. He hadn't got that feeling before. Sam was much more self-confident than Tim and he had a bearing that he'd only seen in Tim once or twice before. But in that moment, it was like Tim was staring back at him, trying to decide whether or not he was really being serious.

And Gibbs realized that he'd genuinely missed it. He had always known what Tim was thinking, what he was feeling, when he was frustrated or just thought that Gibbs was being far too impatient. He rarely said it, but he pretty much always expressed it if anyone cared to look. Up to this point, Gibbs had been determined to find Tim and help him because he felt that it was necessary. Tim deserved to escape from this. He deserved to heal. He deserved to get back everything he'd lost, including his job. Gibbs hadn't really thought about the fact that he wanted Tim to be back. It wasn't just about filling the empty desk again. It was about the fact that he had a team, and it wasn't the same team without Tim there. Just as it wouldn't be the same team without Tony. It wasn't the same team without Abby, even though, technically, she hadn't been on the team at all. It wasn't the same, but he couldn't fix that. He could fix this.

He hoped.

Sam seemed to be waiting for something, a qualifier or something, but there was no qualifier. Gibbs had said what he meant.

"You seem to mean that literally."

"I do."

Another pause.

"Semper fi. Right?" he asked.

Gibbs smiled.

"Never leave a man behind," he said.

"Tim mentioned that you were a Marine once."

"You were military?"

"Navy," Sam said. "I left before Tim was ten years old."

There was pain attached to that statement, Gibbs could tell, but he didn't probe.

"Do you want me out of the way tomorrow?" he asked.

"I don't know. Honestly, I think we're all going to be feeling our way through this... hopefully, without too many major mistakes. I mostly wanted to know what you'd already found out."

"Okay."

"If you think of something, let us know, and we'll do the same."

Gibbs nodded and then shook Sam's hand when he offerred it. Then, they went their separate ways.

Gibbs went back to his room and sat down to think some more. He was usually more of a doer than a thinker, but he could think if the occasion called for it.

It did.

He had hoped that just telling Tim that he wasn't to blame would be enough. Even if he had to repeat it a hundred times, Tim would listen and he'd be willing to help himself.

That hadn't happened.

Was it that Tim just hadn't been ready for Gibbs to show up? Was it that he was overwhelmed by the confrontation after his time in relative isolation? Or was it that Tim really didn't believe it?

As the hours ticked by, and it got darker and darker, Gibbs continued to think about what more Tim might need. He didn't kid himself that it was only about himself. Tim did need his family. He would also need his friends. But this beginning was absolutely necessary. It was just a matter of what would be the key that would finally get through to him.

And Gibbs kept thinking.

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

"I'm sorry," Tim said.

"I'm sorry," Abby said at the same time.

"Go ahead," Tim said.

"No, you go ahead," Abby said.

"I'm sorry I got upset with you."

"It's okay. I understand. You're insecure."

Tim felt irritated by that. "You think I'm insecure?"

Abby seemed to notice that. Tim was surprised that she did.

"Well, in a cute way."

"I'm not... not insecure. What makes you think I'm insecure?" Tim asked.

"Oh, that whole 'where's our relationship going' thing."

For the first time, Tim began to realize that he and Abby really didn't think the same way at all. She was fun. He really liked her. He might even love her, but he was starting to think that their minds functioned so differently that they might not make it much further than this.

"So it's insecure to want to know the status of your relationship when one of the people in that relationship can't accurately communicate her feelings?" he asked, feeling just a little annoyed.

Abby was oblivious.

"Yes!"

He walked to the computer and sat down to work.

"I guess my poem didn't mean anything then."

"Oh, no. I loved your poem."

Tim looked at her across the room. She smiled at him.

"You did?"

"Of course, I did!"

"Which part of it did you like?"

"All of it."

"Even the finger snaps?"

"Especially the finger snaps."

Tim smiled back at her and they got back to work.

Tim inhaled and opened his eyes. Abby had always been able to be irritating and endearing at the same time. She could attract him and hurt him in successive seconds. That was why they had not been able to work. He just couldn't navigate that kind of life. Abby's view of the world was such that he had not been able to understand it, no matter how much he had tried to do so.

He sat up in bed.

It was dark and he felt the weight of Abby's death settle in on him again.

"I love it when you talk geek."

"I love that you love it."

He dropped his head into his hands.

They sat in the lab, working at the computers. Abby took a sip of her Caf-Pow! and then slid it across the table. Tim took a sip and slid it back. They didn't speak. They didn't need to. They just worked.

He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. They had always been able to work well together.

He lay under the table, working on her computer.

"Is that good for you?" he asked.

"Trust me, Mr. Goodwrench, I'm smiling."

He remembered all the times he had gone to her lab to help her or to work on a case or just to be down there.

"Are you two that formal when you're exchanging bodily fluids?" Abby asked, acidly.

Tim said nothing, not wanting to share his friend's secret.

The times they were jealous.

And it was all over. Nothing like it could happen again.

Abby was dead.

The weight pressed down on him until he felt like he might suffocate. But it was only two a.m. He didn't want to wake Mark up. He'd already done that before. He didn't want to ruin anything else of his. He didn't want...

The lead weight seemed to pull him down to the ground, making it difficult to breathe, difficult to move. He wanted to cry but he didn't want to at the same time. The two feelings tugged at each other. The omnipresent feeling that he didn't deserve to mourn Abby's death because he had caused it, and the feeling that he had to express his grief or else collapse under the weight of it.

Finally, he fell back to the bed and started crying... while simultaneously trying not to cry.

Then, in the midst of it, he felt a hand on his back.

"Tim, are you okay?"

He just shook his head, not wanting to try to speak right now. He had no idea how Mark had heard him, but he couldn't ask that, either.

"It's all right. I'll just sit here until you calm down."

Tim shook his head again, not wanting to keep Mark up.

"It's all right. I was already awake."

That was probably a lie, but Tim couldn't say that, either.

After a while, the tears ebbed and he felt like he could sit up. He did, wiping at his face and not looking at Mark.

"Feeling better?"

"N-No," Tim said.

Mark laughed softly.

"What happened?"

"I was remembering."

"What?"

"Abby."

"You said before that she wouldn't want you to be like that."

"No."

"But you are anyway."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because... Abby isn't always right," Tim said, haltingly.

"I think she might be, this time," Mark said. "But every time you let it out, it's not as bad as the time before. This is helping. Letting yourself really face it is helping, Tim. You just need to keep it up. And I know you still don't think you deserve it, but I promise. You do."

"We... We always worked together," Tim said. "Even when we stopped dating. We still could work together. Even when we fought. But... but she's gone now."

"And that's terrible, but, Tim, you can still remember her and still miss her without bludgeoning yourself with it."

"Not yet."

"Okay. Not yet. Are you going to sleep?"

Tim knew that Mark would stay until he said he was. So he nodded.

"Are you lying?"

"I h-hope not," Tim said.

"Okay. I'm okay with helping you, Tim. Whatever you need."

Tim nodded.

Mark got off the bed and walked out of the room.

Tim sat on the bed.

Remembering Abby.