Chapter 25

"Hey... could you tell me why I had the stuff with me that I did?" Tony asked suddenly.

"What did you have?" Tim asked. Then, an idea hit him. "Wait. Let me see if I can guess what you had, okay?"

"Okay..."

"You had a knife," Tim said, hoping he could build up to what he thought was the most important thing.

Tony's eyes widened. "How did you know?"

"Never go anywhere without your knife. You always tried to follow all of Gibbs' rules."

Tony blinked at him for a few seconds.

"And there are fifty of them, aren't there," he said slowly.

"Yeah. There are," Tim said, trying not to be too eager.

"Okay... what else?"

"A wallet with your fake ID."

"Yeah."

"And you had a piece of paper in the wallet that had Gibbs' number on it."

Tony looked genuinely shocked.

"How did you know about a piece of paper? Why would you even guess that?" he asked.

"Why didn't you call?" Tim asked in return.

"I... It got wet. I could tell that something had been written on it, but... I couldn't read it. I guessed that it happened when I fell in the river."

"Oh. Probably. It was supposed to be in your shoe, but you were paranoid about getting your feet wet and ruining something that was supposed to help. You said it had happened way too many times for you to trust something staying dry in your shoes ever again."

Tim smiled as he remembered how adamant Tony had been that he would never put something important in his shoes ever again.

"Tony, we're not running through the woods. We're in a major city."

"I don't care. I'm sick of losing important things because we always assume that the shoe will work. It never does. I'm putting it in my wallet."

"What was it for?" Tony asked.

"Huh?" Tim asked, jarred out of his thoughts.

"What was the paper for?"

"We were worried about being found out and so if someone got to us and we couldn't call for help, then, we hoped that officers or doctors or someone would find the number and call Gibbs."

"That's kind of grim."

"Yeah."

"Anything else?"

Now, Tim guessed something he just hoped that Tony would have, not something he knew. "A key with a flash drive attached."

"I have a key on a keychain but... a flash drive? I don't think so."

For a moment Tim's heart sank. He had been hoping and hoping that Tony would have their backup flash drive with him, something that would make all their weeks of work worth something. Something that could fix things for them. For Tony to say that he didn't know what...

...but then, his mind caught up.

"What did the keychain look like?" he asked.

"It's... small... metal..."

"A rectangle? About this big?" Tim asked, holding his fingers a little less than two inches apart.

"Yeah."

"That's a flash drive, Tony. That's not a keychain. It's a flash drive in a protective case. It was our backup. You have all of our data with you. Everything we thought we lost. You have it."

For a moment it was Tony's turn to look a little incredulous. Then, he ran his hands through his hair and laughed a little.

"I never knew... and I had something important all this time."

"Where is it now?"

"In my apartment. I should go get it."

"Wait. Tony, there were people looking for you." Suddenly, Tim remembered that he hadn't bothered to report to Gibbs yet. He had forgotten to tell anyone that Ensign Thomas had been there and had explicitly pointed to Captain Blaine as being involved. How could he have been so stupid?

"They probably ran off after Jack caught them," Tony said.

"No! Tony, you don't understand. That wasn't two random guys who found an opportunity. It was more than that. I need to call Gibbs right now. One of the guys who beat me up is part of this case!"

"Well, then, it's even more important that I get it. What if they break into my apartment and find it?"

"You shouldn't go by yourself," Tim said.

"Tim... apparently, this is who I am. I'm a cop, and I was trying to solve a crime. If that's who I am, then, I need to be that again. And part of that is getting that flash drive and making sure it's not lost. So you just relax. I'll be back. You can call Gibbs while I'm gone."

Tony got up and strode out of the room.

"Tony! Wait!"

Tim sat there, shocked at how quickly Tony had just gone.

By himself.

When people who probably wanted him dead might be around.

He didn't have backup.

Again.

No.

Tim grabbed his phone and dialed quickly.

"Gibbs."

"Boss, I..."

"Where have you been?"

"In the hospital. Boss, Ensign Thomas was here."

There was a pause.

"From Norfolk."

"Yes. He and some guy I didn't know. They beat me up. They're here... and they weren't here looking for me. They were looking for Tony and they found him. And now, he's gone off to his apartment. I couldn't stop him, Boss. I tried... but he wouldn't listen to me."

"I'm coming out there, but it'll take time. Be careful."

"I can't let Tony go off alone, Boss."

"Call the police."

"Boss, Ensign Thomas implicated Captain Blaine."

"McGee, call the police. If you're in the hospital, you stay there."

"No. Not this time."

Tim hung up and then took a breath. There was no question that he felt absolutely terrible, but there was also no question that he wasn't going to let Tony get himself killed. He reached out for his clothes and, painfully, began to put them on.

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

Joel hurried back to his apartment.

I'm a cop. I've always been a cop.

Would a cop do what he was doing? Well, quite frankly, he wasn't sure, but there was no question in his mind that Tim was telling him the truth. The fact that he was so sure of it made him assume that this was because of the memories he couldn't consciously access. Tim had told him things. He had known what Joel had been carrying with him. The only thing he hadn't mentioned was the button, and if it had something to do with Tim falling, then, that made sense.

What he couldn't get out of his mind was the fact that Tim had spent months looking for him and that he blamed himself for the way Joel was.

I matter to people. I'm not a nobody.

And if he wasn't a nobody, then, by golly, he was going to do something worthy of being a somebody.

And that meant getting the flash drive he'd had with him without knowing he had it. If it was important, he would make sure it wasn't lost or stolen. He felt a little stupid for not recognizing it as a flash drive, but it just looked like a metal rectangle. He hadn't noticed a groove or a latch or anything. And he had to admit that he hadn't really paid attention to the keychain. It had seemed featureless, so he hadn't examined it very closely. He had focused on the key.

When he got back to the bar, he ran up to his apartment and went straight over to the place where he'd hidden the items. He looked at them and decided that he should take them all with him. He tucked the knife into its sheath. Langston still had the piece of paper. He had his wallet with him. Then, he reached out and picked up the button. He hadn't ever really tried to force himself to remember that night. It had only been something that came out in his dreams.

Now that he knew that Tim was a real person, that he had survived what Joel had thought was a fatal fall, maybe it was time to push himself to remember. He sat down and held that button tightly in his hand, as tightly as the doctor had said he was holding it that night. He closed his eyes.

Tim had nearly died and his injuries had wiped his memory of it away. It was up to Joel to remember. His injuries, while leading to an unexpected outcome, had not been even close to fatal. He had to remember.

The silent minutes passed as he did something he'd never really done before. He tried to force himself to remember, no matter what that memory might be. Now that he knew he was the good guy, he had to remember what had happened.

The memory had to be there. It just had to.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"You're sounding a little snippy."

The voices were familiar. One of them was his own.

"Look. When are you going to admit that I would be getting this done a whole lot faster than you are? Guess what, I'm the computer expert here."

"Hey, I got you all this stuff."

"Yeah, and very deliberately wouldn't tell me how, probably because you knew it wouldn't go over well. I want to get out of this dump and back where we know that there are people on our side. I don't like how this feels."

"You seem pretty confident that there's going to be enough here."

"I am. What do you think I've been doing every day, huh? I'm not just here twiddling my thumbs. I'm working."

There was definitely tension, but it wasn't really at each other, although some of it definitely was. Most of it was something else.

"Okay. Done. Let's see what these last few weeks have given us."

"About time. I could have done it a lot faster."

"Oh, shut up. Look at this."

A number of pictures came up.

"Captain Blaine."

"Could it really be going that high? Blaine's on track to be an admiral."

"And there's that Ensign Thomas who'd been hanging around NCIS a little too much."

"Every person who can be connected with the drugs... they're all reporting directly to Captain Blaine. They're all special picks. Reyes was right. This is huge."

A knock at the door. Tim started over since he was already standing.

"No, I should answer it."

"Fine. Go ahead."

He walked over to the door, feeling just a little cautious. Their rent was due soon. It could be the landlord, but it could also be something else.

He slowed. Something felt really wrong here. He didn't know why.

He reached slowly out to the chain and, instead of taking it off, he just rattled it back and forth a little.

"What are you–?"

Tim didn't get a chance to finish.

Bullets started flying through the door. He ran back.

"We're out of here!" he said, grabbing the flash drive out of the USB port and shoving it into his pocket.

"They must have followed you," Tim said.

There was no accusation in his tone, but there was a feeling of guilt anyway. He just pushed Tim toward the window. When they got there, suddenly, Tim froze.

"I don't know if I can..."

"Do you want to get shot, Tim? Come on! Get out and just start going down. Don't look down. It'll be fine!"

For a precious second or two, Tim was frozen in the window. He pushed at him and finally Tim nodded and moved.

...and his foot caught on the door frame, throwing him off balance. He fell against the railing.

...which was rusted. It gave way under Tim's weight.

He got one glimpse of Tim's frightened expression as he began to fall.

He lunged forward and grabbed for Tim's hand. He missed and just got hold of his shirt which tore. He was left holding nothing more than a button.

For one timeless, horrifying moment, he watched as Tim fell three stories down into a dumpster.

And didn't move.

He ran down the fire escape as fast as he could.

"Tim... Tim..."

And then, there were more bullets. They were still coming.

He was anguished, but he started to run. He had to get away, even if it meant leaving Tim there.

He heard something and it jolted him out of the memory.

He was almost glad of it.

He looked at the button and then the flash drive. Both of them went into his pocket. Then, he ran for the door and pulled it open. He ran down the stairs and back to the alley.

"Hold it right there, Agent DiNozzo."

He stopped and turned. There was a man standing there, holding a gun. He must have been waiting. He knew this person.

"Hello... Ensign."

Ensign Thomas smiled.

"I'm flattered you remember me. We only actually met the one time that I recall."

"I remember you very well," he said. "It would take a lot for me to forget."

Ensign Thomas laughed.

"Especially since your aim is so terrible," he added. "How did you ever get in the Navy?"

The laughter faded and Ensign Thomas glared at him.

"Oh, I know people. And I have great aim up close. Would you like to find out whether or not I can hit the target at point blank range?"

"Why haven't you fired already? That's what you're here for, isn't it?"

"Oh, eventually."

"What are you waiting for?"

Ensign Thomas smiled again.

"What are you doing out here, Agent DiNozzo? You've been here for a while from what I could tell, and to our knowledge, you haven't been contacting anyone back in D.C. What are you doing here?"

He forced himself to smile. "Wouldn't you like to know that?"

The gun came up with more purpose.

"Yes, I would. But if you won't tell me, I might run out of patience."

"I've been here for eight months. If you don't have the patience for a few seconds, you really shouldn't be in the Navy," he said.

He was sure that this was the end of the road, that he was about to die which really pretty much sucked, but he didn't see any way out of this. He wasn't fast enough with a knife to beat the gun, and not even Ensign Thomas would miss at this close.

But he refused to close his eyes. He just stood there. Waiting.

"No!"

And then, Ensign Thomas flew forward and to the ground.

With someone on top of him.

Before he could think, Ensign Thomas was back on his feet, this time, his attention on the other person.

"How many times can you die, Agent McGee?" he said, angrily.

And it was Tim, but he wasn't getting up very quickly. In fact, he tried once and then fell to the ground and was still.

Ensign Thomas was getting ready to fire.

And time slowed down.

It was an endless moment where he stood there, staring down at Tim, knowing that if he did nothing, he would be dead just like he'd dreamed so many times. Unless he did something right now.

For that endless moment, it was like his mind exploded as he fought through all the blocks he'd unconsciously placed there so that he knew exactly what to do to stop from seeing again what he had seen far too many times as it was.

And Tony ran, grabbing his knife from his hidden sheath. He took hold of Ensign Thomas' hand and twisted it behind his back as he brought the knife to his throat.

"All right, Ensign. Drop the gun. Now."

Ensign Thomas didn't move. Tony pressed the knife harder against his throat.

"I said drop it. If you fire, I kill you. If you try to get away, I kill you. Your only chance to live through the next ten seconds is to drop that gun."

For five of the longest seconds ever, Ensign Thomas still didn't move and Tony thought he was going to have to carry through on his threat.

Then, Ensign Thomas dropped the gun.

"Tim, you alive?" Tony asked.

For another five very long seconds, Tim didn't move from his huddled position on the ground.

Then, he groaned and rolled over.

"I feel terrible," he whispered.

"Well, why did you leave the hospital?"

"Because you did," Tim said faintly. "Backup."

Tony couldn't help but smile a little.

"Well, acknowledging that you shouldn't be here at all and that you feel terrible, can you get the Ensign's gun and then call for the police so that we can get this guy out of our hair?"

Rather than answer directly, shaking, Tim reached out and took hold of the gun. He propped himself up against the wall and then pulled out his phone and called for police to come to their location to provide assistance in making an arrest.

It didn't take long for a couple of LEOs to show up. They took care of Ensign Thomas and then, in the brief lull before they'd have to deal with everything, Tony walked over to where Tim was sitting on the ground, leaning against the wall, still holding the gun and his phone.

Tony knelt down and pulled out the button.

"You missed this," he said.

Tim looked like he was running on fumes, which he probably was. He seemed confused.

"What are you talking about?"

"You told me what I was carrying. You didn't say anything about this. When you were falling... I grabbed for you, but this was all I got," Tony said. "It ripped off your shirt and you fell anyway. I'm sorry I wasn't faster, Tim."

For a long moment, Tim didn't even react, but then, his eyes widened a little.

"You remembered."

Tony hesitated, knowing that admitting it would mean a lot of complications. But then, he nodded.

"I remembered."