Chapter 10

Oh, I'm newly calibrated
All shiny and clean
I'm your recent adaptation
Time to redefine me

Let the word out, I've got to get out
Oh, I'm feeling better now
Break the news out, I've got to get out
Oh, I'm feeling better now

"Better Now", Collective Soul

Tim sat in his lab right on schedule Monday morning. The whole tight schedule wasn't really anything new to him- he'd been juggling time for months now, with school and work. But having everything written out and his downtime all scheduled was different. He kind of liked it, though. He'd always been happier when there was a routine.

"Hey, look who's back," Kiara said as she and Jack came into the lab. "How're you feeling?"

"Better, thanks," he said. He didn't know how much everyone knew, but better covered most things.

"Good," Jack said, sitting down across from him. "You look better."

"Definitely," Kiara said. Her beeper went off and she sighed. "Gotta love being first call in the morning," she said, glancing at it. "Gotta go find Scotty. See you guys later," she said, leaving the lab.

"See you," Jack said.

Tim nodded and started to turn back to the report he was reading. But something in Jack's face made him stop and look up at the other man. "What?" he asked, curiously.

Jack's face twisted into a weird expression. "This is probably not my place…oh, hell with it," he said, seeming to come to a decision. Tim watched with raised eyebrows as Jack shoved his shirt sleeve up to his elbow and thrust his forearm across the table. There was a thin scar running up the underside of his arm, somewhat faded, but still clear. "I did that," Jack said, quietly, "when I was 19."

Tim blinked at him, not at all sure what to say. Jack nodded, then continued.

"My sister found me. The doctors said it was a dissociative episode, which is psych speak for 'out of his fucking mind'. I was in the hospital for six weeks, in the psych ward. And then I got out, and did the therapy and took the medications and all. And for about a year, everything was fine. So my doctor tried to lower my dosage to get me off the medication, and I crashed and burned. Didn't quite wind up back in the hospital, but it was close. So I went back on the medication and everything was fine. Same thing happened a year later, but this time, my doctor decided it was probably better to just put me back on the meds and leave it that way. And that's just what we did. That was, oh, four years ago, and I've been doing pretty well since. They'll have to pry my meds from my cold dead hands before I'd be willing to give them up again. I don't want to go through that again," Jack said with a smile.

Tim looked at him with surprise. "How did you…"

"No one told me," Jack said, quickly. "Horatio just said you weren't feeling well and so he and Calleigh had traded days off so she could stay with you. It was an easy enough sell, given that you'd looked like hell last week. But, well, you seemed more unconnected than sick. And, well, when you've been there, it's easier to see those sorts of things," he explained.

"Oh," Tim said.

"So, anyway, my point is, it gets better. Even if it means you fall down and have to pick yourself back up," Jack continued. "It gets easier each time, probably because you can tell when things are getting bad, and then you can fix them quicker before they get really bad. Anyway, I know you've got a pretty damn good support system, but I kind of had the feeling that most of the people involved haven't really been there. Not in any sort of serious way, anyway. And I know from experience that sometimes it's easier to have someone in the mix who knows where you're coming from. So I thought I'd speak up," he said.

"Oh," Tim said, again. He was somewhat at a loss for words. "I…no, thank you," he said. "Thank you is what you say here," he mumbled under his breath.

Jack laughed. "It's ok. Depressed people aren't generally the most polite people ever."

"It's just that I forget what I'm supposed to say," Tim said, shaking his head.

"It's ok. I know how it is," Jack said. He pulled a card out of his back pocket and picked up a pen and scrawled something on the back. "Here. I know you've got my cell number, but that's my home number, too. You can call anytime," he said, sliding the card across the table.

"Thank you," Tim said, more surely this time.

"You're welcome," Jack said, with a smile. "I'm glad you're getting back on your feet."

"Me too," Tim said, nodding.

"Anyway, I got stuff to look over from DNA," he said. "I'll let you get back to work. See you later," Jack said, as he stood up to walk out of the lab. "Hey, Calleigh," he said, holding the door for her before he left.

"Hi, Jack," she called after him. "What was that? You two looked really serious in here," she said to Tim.

"We were talking about last week. Well, sort of," he said, frowning. "He was talking. I was listening, I guess."

"I didn't tell anyone, Horatio just said you were sick," she said, quickly.

"No, no, I know. He said. He figured it out, because, well," he said, with a shrug, not wanting to share what Jack had said about himself.

Calleigh caught the inference and nodded. "Ah."

"Yeah," he said. "So, anyway. We were talking."

"Well, good," she said. "At any rate, I just thought I'd pop in and see what you thought of the little agenda item I added to your schedule this evening." She grinned at him,

He smiled back. "I think that could be arranged, yes."

"Good," she said. "Well, if I'm going to have a date tonight with a cute guy and a beach, I'd best be getting back to work." She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. "See you later, sweetheart."

"See you," he said, grinning at her. He watched her leave the room, feeling lighter than he'd felt in days. Getting back up is definitely more fun than falling down, he thought, even if it is a whole lot more work. But the work was turning out to be well worth it, in his eyes. He turned back to the report, still smiling slightly.

End