Not beta'd; Standard disclaimer applies

No Accident, Chapter 16, Rules in any language

The walk lasted longer than both Gibbs and Tim anticipated. He had barely made it to the end of the street when his phone rang. Without even glancing at the phone, he answered it. The caller had been his sister Sarah, asking if they were still on this weekend for laundry and movies. The silence that followed her question had her groaning and muttering about the unpredictability of his job and cases that could last for days. Not wanting to lie, he gave a vague reply about currently being with Gibbs and not being home for a few days. More muttering, this time about her having to brave the laundromat ensued. Tim quickly offered the washer and dryer at his apartment before grimacing. Did he have a washer/dryer in his apartment? He closed his eyes and tried to concentrate, thinking back to when he, Gibbs, and Tony had stopped by his place. He didn't remember seeing a washer and dryer, but he also didn't open all the doors or even enter the kitchen area. Sarah's heartfelt thanks had him breathing a sigh of relief. Of course, her next words offered to take care of Jethro while he was away. More vague comments assured her that Jethro wasn't there either and was fine where he was. Sarah then asked her brother if anything other than work was going on in his life before giving a run down of her life, which mostly consisted of complaining about some of her recent dates, as well as the antics of her roommates. It was with great relief that Tim finally hung up, not bothering to argue when Sarah joked that he had best get back to work before his boss 'knocked some sense into him'.

While that conversation hadn't helped him to remember anything new, at least it settled the issue about how to deal with his family. Avoidance was the preferred method, with misdirection a close second if he did get into a conversation with them, he dryly reasoned, making a note to ensure he checks the caller ID before answering the phone.

While the two had talked, Tim had continued to walk and eventually found himself at a small park a couple of blocks away. Since this wasn't his neighborhood, he wasn't worried about running into someone he should know and decided to enjoy the sense of freedom being alone outside provided. It had been stressful talking with his sister without revealing his current predicament, and he had suspected that would be the case. What he hadn't realized until now was that it was almost as stressful being around people who knew the situation but he hadn't remembered. It felt like they were all in a movie, but he hadn't showed up for rehearsal or read the book beforehand, so was clueless about what was going on. He also felt like they were waiting for him to act in certain ways or say certain things. When he did remember something, it seemed like they all stared at him like an animal on exhibit at the zoo, anticipating an additional performance. No doubt that was why being outside and being alone felt so freeing. No one he had seen had expected anything from him.

This realization had him once more thinking that it would be better to be home. Unfortunately, he had just offered his apartment and laundry facilities to his sister for the weekend and doubted he could keep her from figuring out something wasn't right if he returned home while she was there.

Sighing, he let his gaze travel around the small park, his mind automatically concocting theories on who they were and what their lives were like, losing himself in the stories he created. He was jolted out of his thoughts when his phone rang again, the screen letting him know that Ducky was calling.

Their conversation had Tim thinking about not only what they had discussed last night, but also what Gibbs had said before suggesting this walk. He debated the pros and cons of talking to someone, as well as who that someone should be. Mentally, he ran down everyone who was aware of the current situation and had been familiar with his life prior to the accident. He had to believe that they all cared for him, but while Tim didn't really know what he needed in this situation, he suspected it was more than just that. First there was Gibbs, proximity, as well, having been in a similar situation had him being a more viable candidate. Tim had a feeling that they hadn't had many conversations in the past, at least not many that weren't related to work, unfortunately, with amnesia, he couldn't say if there was a valid reason why that would be true. While he didn't remember much more about Ducky than he had the others, the doctor was also a possibility, since all of Tim's interaction with him had shown him to be patient and caring. Jimmy, Tim snorted in amusement, finding it ironic that the one person he seemed to remember, he hadn't seen, talked to, or interacted with yet. Of course, Tim wryly thought, it could be that the person he is imagining as Jimmy, and Ducky's assistant, is actually someone else. Mistaken identities brought Abby to mind. Tim grimaced as he thought about talking to Abby about this situation. The brunette's reaction to their first 'remeeting' was still ringing in his ears. What kind of person got upset that someone with amnesia got confused about who was who in their life? He also couldn't imagine talking with Tony, at least not right now. If they were as close as brothers, as Tony said, and Tim believed, he knew Tony wouldn't hesitate to do anything he could to help him. He was also sure that Tony would continually remind him of any embarrassing things Tim revealed while helping him. The two might be like brothers, but no one knew what buttons to push like a brother either. Sighing, Tim thought about the last member of their team. As much as he wanted to talk to Ziva and get some answers, he had a feeling he would do much better during that conversation after he had remembered what their relationship was really like. Of course, they had also already agreed to talk after the weekend.

What he needed, Tim thought, his gaze drifting upwards, was a sign. At this thought, Tim burst out in a small fit of laughter as stood up to return back to Gibbs's house. Actually, what he needed was his memories back, since he wasn't even sure if he would recognize a sign for what it was.

After Tim had left, Gibbs went to check on the dog before retreating to his basement. Like his houseguest, he had been interrupted by a phone call. When the screen showed it was DiNozzo calling, he picked it up, hoping he and Ziva hadn't gotten into any trouble.

Luckily, it was just a case of Tony being bored and missing the rest of the team.

"Gibbs."

"Hey, boss, McMemoryLoss remember us yet?"

"Have you solved any cold cases yet?" he returned.

"Uh, no, not quite yet."

"There's your answer." Gibbs could imagine the frown and confusion on Tony's face that his words evoked.

"Wait, does that mean, if we had solved a cold case, Tim's memory would've returned?"

"Guess we'll never know," he smirked.

"Yeah, anyway, how is he?"

"Same."

"So, he hasn't talked yet? Do you want me…ouch!...us to come by with lunch? Maybe see if we can get Tim's shell to crack?"

Gibbs could hear Ziva muttering 'Timothy's not an egg, Tony.'

"No, just an egghead," Tony chortled before addressing Gibbs once more, "So?"

"No, not yet. Give it some time."

"You got it, boss. I'll ca-ouch!...we'll call again tomorrow. No, wait, I was right. I'll call again tomorrow. Don't hit me, Ziva! Tomorrow's Saturday, so we can't call. I can call and you can call, but we can't call, since we won't be together, so there."

Gibbs rolled his eyes at his team's antics, "Hey, did you talk to Abby about calling first."

"Of course, I-we," he rushed to correct, "did. She wasn't too happy about it, like, really, really, not happy about it, but I think we finally got her to understand that it was needed."

"Good. I mentioned it to Ducky, he's gonna pass it on to Jimmy."

"Jimmy?"

"Hmm, seems Tim remembers him."

"Autopsy gremlin! He remembers autopsy gremlin but not his Senior Agent?! Why? How?"

Once again, Gibbs could hear Ziva's voice, "If we knew that, then we would know how to fix this."

"Hey, boss, how long do you think this'll go on for?" A quiet and serious Tony asked.

"The calling ahead? At l-"

"No, the memory, thing," Tony interrupted, "You and him not being here, cold cases."

"I don't know," he admitted. "I did let Tim know that he always had a place on our team,"

"Of course. he does! Wait he thought he wouldn't?"

"Tony, he doesn't remember everything about his life, that includes aspects of his job. I reassured him that retraining wasn't an issue, that he was too good of an agent to lose because of a little thing like that."

"Oh, good," Tony replied, the relief in his voice evident.

"We're just gonna have to take each day as it comes," Gibbs added before ordering his agents to get back to work and ending the call.

"Hey, you ready for lunch?" he heard Tim call down to the basement.

Startled for a moment, Gibbs looked at the time before calling back up, "Yeah, give me a few minutes to finish this and clean up and I'll be right there."

"Take your time, I'll get everything out."

A few minutes later, Gibbs entered the kitchen. "Looks good," he offered in greeting. "Thanks."

Tim grinned, "No need to thank me, I didn't really do any of the work."

Gibbs chuckled at his reply which paraphrased his own from the previous day.

"Did you get your sanding done?"

"Why? You gonna offer to help?"

"I owe you for helping me," Tim admitted, "But I don't think the way to pay you back is to ruin your latest boat."

"You don't owe me anything," Gibbs contradicted. "You're part of my team…even if I'm not in the role of boss right now. And sanding is great for relaxing the mind and body, a good way to relieve stress as well. Repetitive motion, your mind can just drift and think. I've made a lot of breakthroughs while sanding."

Tim frowned at his words. Was his presence adding stress to Gibbs's life? Was that why the older man had gone to the basement while he had been out and had stayed there until Tim called him hours later for lunch?

"Tim?"

"Huh?" the younger man startled at his name. "Uh, no. To the sanding," he clarified. "I still don't think it's my thing."

"You can always change your mind."

Tim nodded, but didn't comment verbally. "So, we have one more meal prepared by Ziva for dinner?"

Gibbs scrutinized his agent, as he changed the topic. "You can also change your mind about talking to me," he said in reply. "I won't push, but I still think it'll be beneficial for you."

Tim nodded, but continued to look at his plate as he ate, hearing Gibbs's sigh as he did so.

A few minutes later, Tim said, "Sarah called me."

"How did that go?"

"Awkward," Tim admitted. "Apparently, we had plans for this weekend."

Gibbs grimaced, he could imagine how upset she would be at the change of plans, especially since he suspected that Tim hadn't told her why those plans had changed. "I hope it wasn't anything major," he offered in reply.

Tim shook his head, "Nah, just her doing laundry at my place to avoid the laundromat and watching movies." At Gibbs's nod, he continued, "I told her that I was with you and not at home, but that she could let herself in to do her laundry. Of course, that was after she cursed the unpredictability of my job and cases that could last for days."

Gibbs snorted, "She would know."

Tim frowned, "Why? Do I often have to cancel plans on her?"

Gibbs shrugged, "Probably, you never talked about it or her much. DiNozzo is the one that's usually voicing his complai-."

"Murder!" Tim hissed, interrupting his boss as he remembered. "My sister was investigated for murder!"

"She was innocent, you were able to clear her," Gibbs reminded him.

"Still, murder," he muttered in disbelief, leaning back in his chair.

"On the bright side, you remembered something else."

Tim snorted and shook his head. "Yeah, and at least I remembered here, with you and not while on the phone with her or earlier before she called me."

Gibbs's looked at him, "You don't remember everything that happened, do you?" At the shake of Tim's head, Gibbs informed him of what he knew.

"I really owe you guys."

"Besides the fact that it was our job, we're a team, we help each other," Gibbs firmly stated. "Besides, it was your belief in her that helped us get the evidence we needed to get to the truth."

Tim nodded, the other details of the case falling into place.

"Of course," Gibbs pointedly began, staring at the younger man, "We could've helped a lot sooner if you had told us what was going earlier."

Tim grimaced, "It's not that easy."

"Nobody said it would be," Gibbs replied before both men fell silent.

"I'm not used to talking about my problems," the younger man stated. "At home, the admiral would either mutter something about whiners and complainers or tell me that if I'm so smart, I could figure it out myself. Either way, he made it clear that he had no interest in helping me, and mom always followed his lead."

The parent in Gibbs had to school his expression upon hearing those words. "And at school?"

Tim shrugged, "Schoolwork didn't pose any problems. The only issue was with bullies, and without any proof…" he trailed off and shrugged again, "Nothing could be done."

Gibbs frowned, "What about at college? Surely, you would be able to talk with your friends, roommate or classmates for help? Your professors?"

Tim snorted. "My classmates didn't want much to do with me, if it didn't involve helping them with their assignments." Seeing the confused expression on the older man's face, he elaborated. "I was years younger than them. Their problems involved getting a fake ID that looked real, to them, my problems were infantile. Friends," he shrugged, "Didn't have too many of them on campus right away, again, the age thing," he explained.

"But your roommate," his boss began to question.

"Didn't exist," Tim dryly commented. "Again, because of the age difference, the school felt it best that I didn't share living space."

"It must've been lonely as hell for you. Why the hell did your parents let you go?" Gibbs asked before he could stop himself.

"The admiral didn't care either way, and mom,"

"Followed his lead," Gibbs completed with him. "Oh, Tim,"

"It's okay,"

"It shouldn't have been," he argued. "What about the professors?"

"They felt a lot like the admiral had," Tim reluctantly replied, "That I was smart enough to figure things out on my own."

"You were sixteen!" Gibbs complained, "I wouldn't trust an eighteen year old in that situation, let alone someone two years younger. What the hell were they thinking?"

"You really can't blame them," Tim argued. "They probably that I had my family to help."

His eyes narrowed, "Even if they did, that family that was also miles away."

"Looking after me like that wasn't part of their jobs. They were there to teach, and that's what they did. I learned a lot, so it was worth it."

"Not sure about that," Gibbs muttered, "Not if you learned that you couldn't rely on anyone for help."

"It was life that taught me that," Tim shrugged, "Not just college."

Gibbs shook his head, "Doesn't matter. You need help, ask."

"Rule 28."

Gibbs arched an eyebrow.

"I don't really know why it's a rule," Tim continued, "I mean, you never really seem to follow it."

"More than you do," he argued.

Tim snorted, "Well, yeah, I think we've established that I don't ask for help."

"I do," Gibbs quietly stated. "Maybe not as often as I should," he sheepishly admitted, "But when I can, I do, and it could be that the times you thought I didn't ask for help, you just weren't aware of who I asked."

"I…well, yeah, maybe," he conceded, tilting his head in acknowledgement.

"So," Gibbs asked, grinning at him, "You gonna ask for help?"

That was the million-dollar question, Tim thought, as he closed his eyes as he pondered how to respond.

"I…just give me the afternoon to try to figure things out," he pleaded.

Finally, Gibbs gave a curt nod in agreement. "Dinner?"

"After dinner," Tim countered with a sigh, "Don't want to ruin the last meal Ziva prepared for us."

Tim spent the afternoon isolating himself in the room upstairs again. After spending that time thinking, he definitely was not looking forward to the conversation that would happen tonight, but he knew that he had to try. He also knew that Gibbs wouldn't let him drag out the meal or be silent while they were eating. The easiest thing to talk about was the food before him, so he made a comment about how good it was and how well Ziva cooked, something that he suspected didn't just surprise him.

"Yeah," Gibbs agreed. "I didn't know Ziva could cook like this."

"Probably all the traveling she did," Tim absently commented. "Anytime we traveled overseas, my mom always tried to get a feel for the local cuisine. She would try to take a cooking class if possible, otherwise, she depended on local navy personnel to help her."

"Huh," Gibbs replied, trying not to make a big deal out of the fact that Tim remembered something.

"Did you have a favorite place?"

Tim shrugged, "Not really. Almost any place in the United States was the same: school was school, sports more valued than academics; activities were pretty much the same, again, sports," Tim said, rolling his eyes. "Overseas was interesting, but then you had the language issue. It seemed by the time I got a good handle on the local language, we moved and I had to start all over."

Gibbs frowned, "Didn't you live on base? Wouldn't they offer most things in English?"

"Sure," Tim replied, "But how can you really learn about the people and places round you if you only come into contact with what others give you? As I said, my mom made a point of soaking up the local cuisine, to me that carried over to their culture as well, and you really couldn't fit in well if you didn't at least try to learn their language."

"Do you remember any of the languages you learned?"

"Non tanto, ein kleines bisschen," Tim replied, continuing in a few different languages.

Gibbs blinked as his agent began saying a few phrases, each one sounding in a different language. "Wait, that last one,"

Tim grinned, not letting him finish his question. "Basically, I said, not much, a little bit, or not really in the languages I could. The last two, I use more often," he informed his boss.

Gibbs's eyes narrowed, "I recognized most of them," he stated.

"In order, the languages I spoke are: Italian, German, Japanese, Filipino, Hawaiian, French, Spanish, and pig latin."

"Pig latin? When would you use pig latin?"

"Used to use it a lot with Sarah. She thought it was our own secret language," he shared, smiling at the memory.

"Do you still use it now?"

"Not really, usually only if we need to get each other's attention, you know, if we have something important to say and really need the other person to listen to us."

"Huh," Gibbs nodded in understanding. "None of those languages are listed in your file."

Tim shrugged, "Well, I'm not really fluent in any of them. I can ask for a hospital, bathroom, or local shopping center, but I wouldn't want to interrogate someone. Who knows what I might accidentally ask them or interpret as their answer."

"Might not take much to get you fluent, at least in Spanish, since you believe you have a better handle on that."

"Not the pig latin?" Tim inquired.

"I don't think there'll be much call for that."

"Oh, well," Tim shrugged dismissively. "I'll think about it," he added when Gibbs kept staring at him.

"I can't believe you lived in all those places," Gibbs commented, trying to revitalize their conversation. He suspected that their later conversation would go better if Tim felt more at ease.

"Oh, I didn't, not really," Tim replied. "The admiral was stationed in Puerto Rico when I was really young, that's when I started learning Spanish. The reason I still remember it, is because it was a popular language at a lot of the places where he was stationed. Overseas, we were with him when he was stationed in Italy, about two years; Germany we were only there for three months; Japan & the Philipines, he was there almost two years, but we only visited during the summer and for one Christmas. When we were told Dad was being stationed at Pearl Harbor, I started to learn Hawaiian beforehand, unfortunately, I never really got to practice it, since I was there for less than a week. French I tried to learn to impress someone," he admitted, his blush letting Gibbs know that a girl was involved.

"Why didn't you stick with any of them? You couldn't have done that badly since you still remember some."

Tim shrugged, "Got older, learned some other languages that seemed more interesting and relevant."

Gibbs frowned, "More languages? Which ones?"

"Fortran, C, Basic, Python, to start with," Tim replied, grinning at the look of confusion on the older man's face. "The language of computers," he clarified.

"That last one had me wonder if you thought you could talk to snakes," Gibbs snorted in amusement. "Well, that seemed to work out well for you."

"Not too badly," Tim agreed, still grinning.

"You know," Gibbs began hesitantly, not really wanting to end the conversation, or cause Tim to expect more. "You remembered a lot for that conversation."

"I…uh, yeah, I did," Tim agreed, frowning.

"Don't," Gibbs warned.

"What?"

"Don't tense up, or focus on trying to remember more," Gibbs explained. "Things will come to you in their own time, trying to force it won't do any good."

"I get that, I do," Tim agreed, "But that still doesn't make it any easier. All I can think about is what I don't remember, or what I thought I remembered but ended up being wrong about."

"It's gonna happen," Gibbs commiserated.

"What? Being wrong or eventually remembering things?"

Gibbs simply raised an eyebrow at the tone before commenting, "Both."

Tim hung his head after hearing that reply.

"Hey! None of that," he gently chided. "Tim, you're human. You will make mistakes, everyone does."

"Maybe so, but why does it seem like mine always follow me around?" Tim muttered.

Gibbs frowned, "How so?"

Tim shook his head, "After dinner," he stated firmly.

The older man looked to him, their plates, and the half empty serving dish.

"Fine," Tim sighed, pushing his plate away. "What do you want to know?"

"Whatever you want to share," Gibbs replied. "This is to help you, I told you I wouldn't push, and I won't, just talk to me. Say whatever's on your mind."

Tim tensed, feeling the weight of Gibbs's stare on him. Looking down to stare at the table, he began, "I just…I don't know. Not just details about my life, work, home, friends, my dog," he said, "But how it happened. Why did I let myself get talked into taking a dog that attacked me? Why didn't anyone help or step-in to prevent it? Why does it feel like I'm all alone, even when others are present? I look at my life, myself, and I can't help but feel that I don't like myself. I don't like some of the things I've done, and think that if I feel that way, I can understand why others might feel the same."

For once Gibbs was glad that Tim wasn't looking at him. He had no doubt that he had paled upon hearing his agent's words. He was also sure that for once his face showed what he was feeling. Complete and utter despair. Why did he agree with Ducky to do this? He wasn't qualified. This wasn't something a slap on the back of the head could fix. In fact, he wasn't sure anything could fix this, maybe not even Tim regaining his memories. Before he could figure out what to say, Tim eliminated that need by speaking again.

"I just…I don't know," he repeated. "I know they say that nice guys finish last, but I never really believed that. I thought good always triumphed over bad, not just in movies and books, but in real life. That was one of the reasons why I wanted to be an agent, to do, be good. The admiral always mocked me for that belief. But I was determined not to be like him. I wanted to be good, to be nice, regardless of who or what I was, but now," Tim sighed. "I've been mocked, tricked, tased, manipulated, taken advantage of and taken for granted. I try to be nice and it bites me in the ass. Really makes me question my life and actions.

"And the worst," Tim continued, "The worst is that it isn't just strangers doing that. It's my family. The admiral has admitted that he has no use of me, so rarely talks to or about me, unless to mock me. The team," Tim sighs, "What happened to having each other's back? Is that just supposed to be in the field? 'Cause I gotta tell ya, I'm not feeling real team-oriented."

"What do you remember?" Gibbs quietly asked.

"I know I don't remember everything," Tim prefaced, "And I'm sure that some of it has been resolved, or at least I hope so," Tim muttered, "Otherwise, I would really begin to think that I was a masochist."

"Tim," a heartbroken Gibbs, tried to appease.

The man in question shook his head, "Let me answer your first question before we go off on a tangent," he quietly said.

"No," Gibbs argued. "It doesn't matter what you remembered. If we made you feel like that at all, even for a moment, even if the memories aren't complete, it isn't right. It means that we were wrong, in our words, actions, everything. This goes against everything I tried to instill in the team. Everything I try to shape us into. This is my failure, not yours."

"Gibbs, you're only one person, one human at that."

"This goes beyond being human," Gibbs said shaking his head. "This breaks the most important rules."

Tim frowned, "Six and twelve?" he questioned, his voice filled with confusion. After all, those were the rules he had heard about the most, especially when not involved in an active case.

"I'd rather everyone break rule twelve than one and five," Gibbs retorted.

The frown deepened, "Don't let suspects sit together?"

Gibbs smirked briefly at the thought that even with amnesia, Tim seemed to remember the rules. Of course, that smirk quickly disappeared when he remembered why they were discussing the rules and how everyone else seemed to break them. "No, #1, Don't screw over your partner or team; #5, Don't waste good; There's also #8 Don't take anything or anyone for granted, and #15, Always work as a team.

"The fact that you feel mocked, tricked, tased, manipulated, taken advantage of and taken for granted," Gibbs said, proving that he's a good listener by repeating Tim's words back to him, "Even for a nanosecond, gives me cause to break rule 6.

"Tim, I'm sorry," he sincerely apologized. "I really hate that you have felt this way. That things have happened that made you feel like that. I also hate that there isn't much I can do about that," Gibbs grimaced. "I know my apology doesn't change anything, but it is one of the few things I can do, and I can only hope that you will accept it."

"Of course, I will," Tim began.

Gibbs shook his head, "There's no 'of course' about this. It is your choice, just like it's your choice to give us another chance."

"Gibbs,"

Holding up a hand to silence the younger man, he continued, "Another thing I can do is to keep it from happening again, for that, it might help to know what you remembered, it's not necessary, and you don't have to if you're not comfortable with telling me, but I can listen to what you remember that caused you to feel this way and promise to do everything I can to keep it from happening again, if you give us another chance," he repeated.

"I…" Tim hesitated, "There has to be a reason why I'm still here," he finally spoke. "Until I remember everything, I can't make a decision regarding a second chance. I can and do accept your apology," he stated, meeting his boss's eyes.

"Good," Gibbs replied in return. "And talking about what you remembered?"

Tim sucked in a deep breath, "Not easy, but maybe it's for the best," he said, before beginning with what he remembered that bothered him the most. Abby and Jethro; Tony and Iraq; Ziva's driving to kill;

11-30-2021

So, what things (specifically to/about Tim) bother you guys?

When I wrote Tim talking about things he did that he didn't like I was thinking about the dead air episode and shutting off the radio (Doesn't seem like a Tim thing to do), but that happened in the next season, not yet, but I left it in there, because, well, it's probably still true.

In the first scene, Tim talked about needing a sign. What would be a 'sign' that Tim would recognize?

How do you think things will go with Jimmy?

Wanted to have this up earlier, but had a slight accident about 10 days ago and had a slight concussion and had to limit screen time.