Chapter 24

Tim woke up and took a deep breath. He could definitively say that he never wanted to get hit in the head ever again. Not even a light tap. In fact, he might beg Gibbs never to give him a head slap. He'd rather get punched in the gut than a hit on the head. He still felt unsteady and dizzy and his head ached like there was no tomorrow. He really hoped that this would go away. The idea that this might linger was rather depressing.

Another deep breath and he forced himself to look around. Tony was still there, which was moderately surprising, given what he'd said and how obvious it had been that he didn't want to be there. Currently, he was sleeping, slumped down in the chair. That gave Tim a chance to evaluate him. Asleep, there was nothing that said he wasn't Tony. Sure, the clothes were a little ratty and the haircut wasn't Tony's normal style, but still, the person he was seeing was Tony. It wasn't someone who looked like Tony. It was Tony.

Only, he wasn't acting like Tony, and it appeared that Ducky's guess was the right one. Tony didn't remember who he was. He genuinely had forgotten it all.

...and that was downright depressing. If Tony didn't listen or didn't remember, this would all be a failure. He'd have to call Gibbs and tell him. But not yet. He needed some time.

For now, though, he didn't feel like he could do anything but lie there. The prospect of moving at all was painful to contemplate.

After about an hour, the door opened and Dr. Bates came in. He smiled when he saw Tony sleeping and walked over to the bed.

"Agent McGee, how are you feeling this morning?" he asked in a low voice.

"Terrible, but more clear than last night."

"Good. We're a little backed up, but I still would like to get a scan before I let you leave the hospital."

"Okay. I don't really want to move yet, anyway."

Dr. Bates smiled. "They'll be bringing some breakfast in soon. I'm sure you're not really feeling hungry but try to eat some of it. That will help you start to recover."

"Hospital food will?" Tim asked.

"Almost any food will. I can tell just by looking at you that you need to eat more."

"All right."

"Good. A nurse will come by to check on you periodically, but if you get any sudden severe pain, let someone know right away."

"Okay."

Dr. Bates nodded and then left. As the door closed, Tony suddenly stirred and sat up. He winced and rubbed at his neck a little bit.

"The chair wasn't made for sleeping?" Tim asked.

"Definitely not," Tony said, sounding completely normal.

Then, it was like he suddenly realized who was talking and he looked a little wary as he made eye contact.

"Feeling any better?" he asked.

"Not really, but I'm more in my right mind."

"Good."

The door opened again and a PCA came in with a tray of food. That stopped the conversation once again. Tim looked at the food with reluctance, but he knew he needed to eat. He hadn't really been taking good care of himself even before this and he needed food. So he took the tray, thanked the PCA and started picking at it. It wasn't particularly appetizing but it wasn't horrific. More bland than anything.

After a few minutes, he looked up and Tony was staring at him.

"You could go and get yourself something to eat while I'm eating, you know," Tim said. "I'm not going anywhere right now. The prospect of standing up is not looking so great."

"I didn't bring any money with me," Tony said, looking a little embarrassed.

Tim forced himself to laugh a little, although he didn't necessarily find it very funny.

"That's a Tony response," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"I... well, I can't tell you how many times you skipped out on paying for lunch at work," Tim said, hoping his smile looked more real than it felt. He kept almost talking about Tony as if he wasn't there, as if this person sitting across from him really wasn't Tony and just happened to look like him.

To his relief, Tony returned the smile.

"Are you saying I'm a moocher?"

"For lunch? Absolutely."

They both laughed a little, but it still felt awkward. Finally, he reached over and grabbed his wallet from the container by the bed. He searched through it and pulled out a ten dollar bill. He held it out.

"Look, you should go and get something. If you stayed here all night, you've got to be hungry. And if you're embarrassed about taking it from me, you can just make a note to pay me back later. Okay?"

Tony hesitated and then looked a little uncomfortable as he reached out and took the bill.

"I will pay you back. I promise."

"That's fine. Whatever," Tim said. "Go on."

Part of him didn't want to let Tony leave, for fear he'd disappear again, but another part really wanted Tony to go away so he could try and think through all this.

Finally, Tony left and Tim sighed. He let his head fall back against the bed and he tried to get rid of the tightness in his throat. He wasn't sure he could tell this story and remain calm. And he was afraid that if he didn't do exactly right, he'd spoil everything. He'd drive Tony away again. And everything he'd done up to now wouldn't mean a single thing.

He had to be Tony's backup this time. He had to, even if Tony didn't realize that's what he was doing. Even if Tony didn't really want what he was trying to do. Even if he was stuck in a hospital bed at the moment. He just had to do this and do it right. Being Tony's backup meant getting him back to where he belonged. He didn't belong here.

Suddenly, he felt completely overwhelmed by everything and he started to cry. Even as the tears began to escape, he tried to hold them back and stop them. Tim didn't know why he was crying right now as opposed to any other time. His emotions had been a little out of whack ever since his first head trauma. Surges of emotion hit him without warning. This was one of those times, but he had to stop crying before anyone saw him. So he started breathing deeply, trying to push those feelings away. After a couple of minutes, he got control of himself again and then, resolutely started to eat once more. It wasn't good, but it was food and he'd been instructed to eat it. So he would.

By the time Tony returned, Tim felt back to his usual emotional state even if, physically, he still felt absolutely awful. Maybe that was why the tears had come this time. Physically, he just couldn't deal with more.

"How was it?" Tim asked as Tony sat back down.

Tony smiled slightly. "Better than yours, I bet."

"Wouldn't take much to be that."

"True." Then, he took a breath. "So... can you tell me... about me?"

Tim knew he had to, but he was so afraid of not doing it right. He and Tony hadn't always seen eye to eye on things. There were times when they'd outright hated each other. What if that was all Tony remembered? What if he didn't regain the trust they'd developed when they had to lean on each other during the time when Ziva had been missing in Somalia and then when they'd gone to find her? What if all he remembered was the antagonism?

"Well?" Tony asked.

"Do you want to know about the case or... just you?"

"So there's a case?"

"Yeah."

"Then, I guess I should know about that."

"I guess you should," Tim said. "So... um... About a year ago, we got a call from an Ensign Miguel Reyes. He claimed that there was something big going on in the Navy, centered in Norfolk."

"What kind of something?" Tony asked.

"Some kind of smuggling. He said it was being run through the Navy and it was really big. When a claim like that comes in... well, we were a little skeptical, especially when he refused to give us any details over the phone. He said he was afraid of being overheard and he would only tell us in person. So we had to go to Norfolk to meet with him."

"From D.C.," Tony said, almost hesitantly.

"Right," Tim said. He tried not to get excited about that. For now, just focus. "Gibbs sent us both over. He didn't trust that it was legitimate. So we took the drive over and when we got to the park... there was no one there. Definitely no Ensign Reyes. We spread out and started looking for him. ...and I found his body in some bushes. He was dead."

"Of what?"

"Drug overdose. The thing is that the people at Norfolk initially called it natural causes. The timing was just too suspicious."

"No coincidences," Tony said.

Tim smiled a little. "Yeah. Exactly. So Gibbs talked to Reyes' family and they insisted on a full autopsy to be done at headquarters in D.C. Ducky found that the drug that had killed him was the gray death."

Tim paused, wanting to see if Tony would fill in any gaps again. This was all stuff he should know already and he seemed to be remembering little things.

And he did.

"Heroin... fentanyl and...other narcotics, all mixed together."

Tim nodded. "He hadn't been injected with it. He'd just handled it. So getting it designated as a murder was hard to do since he could have just picked it up and absorbed enough through his skin to get to an overdose. That's happened. So it was just not adding up. We needed to find out more."

"And we went undercover."

"Yes. You and me. We got an apartment in an area near the base at Norfolk. If this was as big as Reyes had told us it was, then, it probably extended far beyond just the Navy and we decided there was too much risk in reporting in regularly. We also weren't sure how far it went within the Navy itself. So Gibbs and Ducky and Vance were the only ones in on what we did."

"What about Ellie?" Tony asked. Then, he furrowed his brow. "There is an Ellie, right?"

"Yeah, there is! She's so new that Gibbs didn't want to have her be in on this. She knew about the undercover but nothing else." Tim felt a little lift. Tony was remembering more! But he kept himself from pressing to see how far Tony's memories went. "So we set up shop in this dinky apartment. You decided that it was too dangerous to have both of us out and about asking questions. So I got confined to the apartment while you were going around to different places, under the guise of being a wannabe musician, trying to break into the business."

"Named Joel Williams?"

"Yeah."

There was a long silence as Tony took out his wallet and looked at the ID in it.

"I thought it was too good. I knew the ID was fake, but I couldn't figure out how it was so good that it looked real. I didn't know what to think about it."

Tim couldn't read Tony's expression. So he took a breath and went on.

"I hated being stuck in the apartment all the time, and I hated that you had picked an apartment on the top floor. I would have preferred lower."

"You're scared of heights," Tony said.

"Yeah. But Gibbs put you in charge, so you were in charge. We had a few disagreements about that and about how we were doing things, but in the end, I went along with your decisions. We had a computer in the apartment and every so often, we'd make a backup. But we weren't contacting anyone. We'd been in the apartment for over a month. You'd got a lot of stuff, but we hadn't been able to make much sense of it. So..." Tim stopped and looked down. He sighed.

"What? What is it?" Tony asked.

"This is where I can't tell you everything, Tony," Tim said. "I have no memory of the last full day that we were in the apartment. I know that we were planning on doing a full evaluation of everything you'd found. You'd taken a lot of data from places you wouldn't tell me where. You'd got some encrypted files that I'd been trying to get into. So I know that we were getting ready to do some major analysis to see if we had enough to go back to Gibbs and really start a full, open investigation. ...but I don't know if we did it. I don't know what happened except that, from the police report, someone or multiple someones broke into the apartment and started shooting. Something forced us to run."

"To the fire escape," Tony said. There was no hesitancy that time. He knew that.

"Yeah. And something happened."

"You fell. And you looked dead. I must have run after that. They shot me," Tony said, his voice soft and slow. He turned his arm over and there was a visible scar there. Then, he lifted the hair on his head and there was a long narrow scar, a deep bullet graze.

"And I'm sorry," Tim said.

"For what?"

"We were backup for each other. We were each the only backup the other had, and I must have done something wrong. I didn't get shot. I just fell. So I probably tripped or something and that meant you were alone without backup."

Tony's brow furrowed. "You falling makes it your fault that I'm where I am?"

"If I hadn't, you wouldn't have been alone," Tim said. "Tony, you don't understand what came after all this."

Tony leaned forward and he looked so much like himself that it was almost heartening. There wasn't the joking that he usually did to avoid being serious. But that earnest expression was something that Tim had really missed seeing.

"Okay. Then, tell me."

"Whoever was in there... whoever did this to you wiped the computer of all the data we had. So there was nothing to support the fact that we were getting evidence of a major smuggling ring in the Navy. And after..." Tim felt ashamed that this stuff could even have been considered valid. He hated having to say it. "...and after... You have to understand... I was in a coma for days. When I started to wake up, it took forever and I wasn't there to... to fight it. I tried so hard to but..."

"Fight what? What are you talking about?"

"Captain Blaine, Ensign Reyes' superior officer, started blaming you for what happened. He said that you got Reyes killed, that you must have been working with the smugglers, if there were any, and that you probably attacked me and then disappeared to escape. And we found bank accounts in your name with thousands of dollars in them and no explanation of where they came from. But I know it wasn't you, Tony. I know it, but we had so little evidence go on. Everything was gone...except for those things. Everyone thought you were just dead, that there was no other reason why you could be gone like this. I refused to believe it but... but I... I had months of physical therapy and..." Tim sighed. "I just couldn't be there to defend you like I should have."

He ran out of energy for a moment and sagged back against the bed, staring at the ceiling rather than anywhere else. There was that tightness coming again.

But after a few seconds, there was a hand on his arm. Tim looked over and Tony had reached out.

"Hey," he said. "I don't think that... I still remember it all right, but... that doesn't sound like anything was your fault. It sounds like you almost died and you had to come back from that. And really, even without what happened yesterday... you don't look all that great. You look pretty ragged, really."

"I'm okay."

"Maybe," Tony said. "If you are, you sure don't look it. You look awful."

"Thanks."

Tony smiled a little. "So... if they're blaming me for all this, why hasn't anyone swooped down to find me? Why is my face not all over the news as a suspect?"

"Because of Gibbs... and Vance," Tim said. "I don't know what they did, but they managed to pull enough strings to stop that from happening. Gibbs said that, if you were alive, there must be a good reason why you weren't contacting anyone so we shouldn't ruin that by making the general public aware of you."

"Oh. I... don't know if I'm glad about that or not."

"I guess... but that's... what I know."

"So... how did you find me?"

"I just looked," Tim said, not sure he wanted to show off his desperation.

"You just happened to look in Los Angeles?" Tony asked, sounding like himself... skeptical.

Tim couldn't help but smile a little.

"No. I didn't."

"So how did you do it? You're a computer guy, so I'm guessing you must have been doing all sorts of computer programs or something, triangulating my position or something like that?"

"No," Tim said. "I didn't."

"What did you do, then?"

"I started in Norfolk and had a picture of you. I showed it to every person I saw on the street until I found someone who had seen what happened. It took days. That guy showed me where he'd found you. It cost me about a hundred bucks to get him to tell me. Then, I went to the clinic where you were taken after you got shot. Then, I went to the truck stop where you got your first ride. I showed your picture to every truck driver who came through until I found someone who recognized you. I drove to where he said he dropped you off and showed your picture to every person I saw there until I found someone who had seen you. I did that over and over again. It took me more than a month. When I got to Texas, you had walked there and so I didn't which truck stop to go to... so I went to them all. Every day. For two weeks until I found someone who had given you a ride here."

Tony was silent for a long time. Tim suddenly felt very weary.

"Wow. ...you did that... to find me?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Because we're partners and I let you down," Tim said. "I had to make up for that. You were missing. No one knew where you were. I couldn't stop until I knew. No matter what."

"Wow. I don't..." Tony actually seemed really touched. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. It's my job, Tony. It's my responsibility. That's all."

"No... this is way beyond a job. I mean, didn't you already have a job to do?"

"Yeah. I wasn't doing it. Vance threatened to fire me."

"And you didn't stop?"

"No."

Tony swallowed hard. "It's been... hard being here, you know. Every day, I woke up not knowing who I was, not knowing if I mattered to anyone. And here you are saying that... that I mattered so much that you were just walking around, asking people if they'd seen me before." He took a took deep breath and let it out loudly. "I just... I just don't know how to respond or anything."

"Do you remember?"

"Not really... I wish I did. Everything you told me about the case sounded familiar as soon as you said it, but... but I'm not bringing it to my mind myself."

"Oh." Tim couldn't help but be disappointed. He had hoped that this would fix everything.

Another awkward silence fell. What could they try next to jar Tony's memory?