Chapter 6

Zahara hated seeing Tim leave that morning. She knew he was dissembling to some degree, and she accepted that he didn't want to talk about it too much. It was just that she didn't like seeing him reduced to silent trembling just from a dream. He was so strong most of the time. It troubled her that he could be so frightened by what he dreamt. She didn't think less of him for it. She just worried about it.

Suddenly, she felt wet on her hand. She looked down and smiled.

"Hello, Jethro," she said. "Do you worry about him, too?"

Jethro barked once and then trotted over to the balcony door, asking to be let out. Zahara took a breath and exhaled loudly.

"Yes, I will let you out there," she said. "But you will have to come inside when I leave. I will take you for a long walk when I come home."

Jethro jumped around a little and was happy to settle out on the balcony for a while. He didn't seem to mind how small it was. He just liked being outside. At least, that was the conclusion Zahara had come to.

She had some time before she would be going to dance, so she decided to call Fatima. Perhaps Khadija would be there, too, and she could speak to both of them at once.

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

He had always been extraordinarily good at resisting torture. Once, when he'd just been a regular agent, he and some others were being stupid and betting on who could resist pain the longest. He had won by a long shot. No one else had come even close to resisting for as long as he did.

They all thought he just didn't feel it, that maybe his nerves weren't as sensitive as theirs.

That wasn't the case. He felt it. He just didn't show it.

Once, he had been caught and held for nearly a month. He had resisted all that time. Nothing they'd done had come even close breaking him.

He had felt the pain and chosen to ignore it. He had moved his mind into something else. Like everything else in his life, he had simply allowed them to think he felt nothing.

Now, things were different. The pain he had was so much more intense than anything that they could possibly do to him that what they had tried so far just made no difference to him. It all paled in comparison to the pain he already felt. Nothing could be worse.

The door opened and he opened his eyes. Was it worth engaging? Not really, but he lifted his head anyway. Too many years of experience. He couldn't not try to find out what was going on...even though he didn't really care.

"Who are you?" he asked, speaking for the first time in all the days they'd held him. "I have a good memory and I don't recognize you."

The man leaned down.

"You've never met me. So you shouldn't recognize me, although I know who you are."

No accent. Not even a slight one that would indicate a different country of origin which might be hidden. That was almost a relief. He was being held by a fellow American.

That meant it was personal, not business. Again, it was almost a relief.

"You don't seem to mind being here," the man said.

"Whatever you want from me, you won't get it."

"Everyone can be broken, Director."

So they wanted something, even if they weren't getting around to it very quickly. They must be assuming that no one would miss him. ...and it was true, since Tamara was dead.

"Not a director. Haven't been for years."

"That doesn't matter."

"Maybe not. But you've already failed. You just don't know it."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because I'm already broken. Just not in the way you were expecting. You can't make me any worse than I am, and you can't offer any reward or promise of things being better if I cooperate. Nothing can improve my situation. Nothing. You've done the worst. Nothing else even matters."

He lost his energy all of a sudden and let his head thunk back to the floor.

"You broke me when you left my wife to die in that cabin. There's no way to compensate for that loss. I'm broken."

"You don't look like it."

"No, I don't."

"We'll see."

He smiled humorlessly.

"No, you won't see. Your kind never does."

"Well, we'll see how much more you can take."

"Go right ahead."

He was dragged out of the room again.

He didn't care.

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

When Tim got to NCIS, he walked over to Willard Park instead of going straight inside. He had a few minutes before he needed to get to work. He sat down on a bench and pulled out his phone and dialed a familiar number.

"Dr. Hicks."

"Hi, Dr. Hicks. It's Tim McGee."

"Tim, nice to hear from you, but we don't have a session until next week."

"No, we don't. I..." Tim took a breath and let it out.

"What's wrong, Tim?"

"Nothing major. It's... I had a nightmare last night and...and I was hoping I could talk to you about it, today."

"Let me see if I have any free time, Tim. Just a moment."

"Okay."

There was a click and Tim was surprised to hear tinny hold music playing in his ear. He'd never been put on hold when calling Dr. Hicks before. He almost laughed at how incongruous that little moment was.

Then, Dr. Hicks was back.

"Nice music, Dr. Hicks."

"What? Oh... I'm sorry, Tim. I didn't even think about that hold music being on. I don't use it most of the time. It's awful stuff."

Tim chuckled. "It's fine."

"Okay. Do you have any time around noon?"

"If nothing comes up, I'm entitled to a lunch break," Tim said. "But it's kind of far to your office from here."

"What if I came down to the Yard? Would you mind not being as private?"

"No, I wouldn't. It's... I don't think it's a big deal, but..."

"...but you want to talk about it. That's fine. Why don't we plan on my being down there around noon and if you can't do it, just give me a call and let me know. All right?"

"Thanks, Dr. Hicks. I really appreciate it."

"No problem. I'll see you in a few hours."

"Bye."

Tim hung up and then sat for a little while longer, thinking. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice Ducky coming up to him.

"Timothy?"

Tim jumped.

"Sorry to startle you, lad. What are you doing out here instead of inside beginning your day?" Ducky asked.

"Just thinking. Hey...can I ask you a question?"

Ducky sat down beside him.

"Certainly. Fire away."

"Do you believe in fate?" Tim asked, a little surprised at the question he'd just asked. The thought hadn't even really become conscious until he started speaking.

"No, I can't say that I do," Ducky said, sounding surprised himself. "May I ask why you were thinking about it?"

Tim smiled and nodded.

"Do you believe that people can know the future?"

"In what respect?" Ducky asked, in return.

"People get feelings that something is going to happen and they're right. They chalk it up to some kind of ability to see the future. Some people even make a living off claiming that they know what's coming. They call themselves prophets and..."

"Why is this coming up, Timothy?" Ducky asked, his brow furrowing.

"The only way I can see prophecy working is if everything is fated to happen. Then, the universe is like some sort of massive computer that's been programmed to evolve in a certain way. I'm here sitting on this bench talking to you because everything was programmed so that I'd be here at this place, at this moment."

Ducky sat back and Tim couldn't help wondering if Ducky found his sudden metaphysical interest strange.

"Well, in the sense you seem to mean it, I can understand that interpretation, but the first thing you mentioned, what we often call intuition, I don't think it can be approached in the same way."

"Why not?"

"I believe that people do get intuitive feelings about events around them that do end up being correct, and I believe that some of them can be chalked up to nothing more than a subconscious analysis of one's life and surroundings. However, I truly believe that there are things people know that cannot be explained by programming the universe or subconscious observations. I believe, along with Shakespeare, that 'there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy.'"

Tim smiled.

"Now, what brought all this up to you?"

"It's going to sound silly."

"No, I'm sure it won't," Ducky said.

"Well...with the way my life has been the last decade and more... there have been times when I felt like something was going to happen, like something bad was going to happen and every time I've felt that, I was right."

"And you've had another feeling?"

Tim nodded. "I had a nightmare last night. It was bad. Worse than I've had in a long time. I even woke up Zahara for the first time in a while. Now, I can't shake this feeling that it's telling me that something is coming."

"I see."

"And you think it's silly."

"No, I don't," Ducky said, quickly. He put a hand out and squeezed Tim's arm. "No, Timothy. I don't believe that you're being silly, and I don't think you should instantly dismiss that feeling. Perhaps this is a case of subconscious observation, or perhaps your mind is now attuned to events that have the potential to involve you. Do you feel that this is something bad?"

"Not necessarily, but I feel like it's not going to be simple...but that could just be paranoia."

"With the life you have lived, I can understand that feeling. But I don't think you should assume that something is coming and you can't avoid it. You can choose to take it as warning or..."

"Or?"

"Or you can take the time to analyze why else you might be having this intense dream."

Tim smiled. "Already done. I'm going to talk to Dr. Hicks this afternoon."

"Good. In that case, try to set it aside until then."

"Sounds like a good idea."

Ducky stood up.

"Then, why don't we head inside?"

Tim stood.

"That also sounds like a good idea."

Ducky smiled and gestured for Tim to precede him. They walked into the building together.

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

Tony grinned as Tim walked off the elevator.

"Ah, here he is!"

"Do not say it, Tony," Ziva said.

"Say what?" Tony asked, innocently. "Good morning, Probie! How was your first night with an American citizen? Or rather second night? As good as the first?"

Tim raised an eyebrow at him which spoke eloquently about his feelings on Tony's question.

"A gentleman never tells," he said, but there was something else in his expression that wasn't just playing around.

"Is something wrong?" Ziva asked. Obviously, she'd seen it, too.

"No," Tim said, his brow furrowing. "Why?"

"You seemed a little upset," Tony said.

Tim sighed and shook his head. "No. I just had a nightmare last night. It was pretty intense and... and I'm having a hard time setting it aside."

"What did you dream?" Ziva asked.

Tim shrugged. A sure sign he didn't want to get into it.

"Just my usual. A little worse than usual, but still my usual. I'm going to talk to Dr. Hicks about it this afternoon, so long as nothing comes up during lunch."

Tony looked at Ziva for a second and knew she had the exact same thought he did.

"Unless we're in a shootout during our usual lunch hour, nothing will come up," Tony said.

Tim's eyebrow went up again.

"Guys, you don't have to worry so much. It was just a dream."

"Yes, and you will just have time to talk to Dr. Hicks so it stays just a dream," Ziva said, firmly.

A few different expressions flitted across Tim's face and Tony couldn't tell if he was irritated at being coddled or touched that they cared. Maybe Tim didn't know how he felt, either.

He was saved from having to decide by Gibbs' entrance. They all got down to business, mostly looking through a cold case that Gibbs really wanted solved, but Tony was sure that Gibbs would have heard the conversation. He heard everything else, and everyone knew that he was a lot more careful about Tim's mental health than one might expect. Tim didn't say anything to Gibbs about his appointment, and Gibbs didn't mention it, either, but nothing came up and, around noon, Tim excused himself without saying anything about why and left the bullpen.

After he was gone, Ziva looked at Tony.

"He has not mentioned any problems with dreams in months," she said. "Do you think it could be a problem?"

"I don't know," Tony said. "But he's talking to Dr. Hicks, and he didn't seem that upset."

"He can hide things if he needs to, Tony."

"But does he need to? If it was just a dream, is there something that needs to be hidden?"

Suddenly, Ziva smiled slightly.

"So you are not worried about him?"

Tony smiled back. "I didn't say that."

"So you are?"

"I didn't say that, either."

"What do you say?"

"I say that we've been working on this cold case all morning. We don't have anything pressing right now. So why don't we go and get something for lunch? We can buy something for McGee, too, in case he doesn't get a chance to get lunch."

Ziva looked at her computer and then nodded.

"That sounds good to me."

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

Tim walked outside, unsure about whether or not he appreciated Tony's assurance that nothing would keep him from meeting with Dr. Hicks. On the one hand, it was nice that he could depend on it. On the other hand, it was like Tony thought he couldn't handle himself. Tim knew that he'd had problems in the past...and that, if he was honest, he still had some problems. It was just that he wanted to ignore that fact, and usually, he could and did. It was times like these that he couldn't, no matter how much he wanted to.

"Tim?"

Tim looked over and saw Dr. Hicks limping toward him. He had to suppress the feeling of guilt that he'd made Dr. Hicks walk more than he normally would be when it was clear that he was hurting. He smiled.

"My team decided that I was going to make it," Tim said.

"Good for them. Where would you like to sit?"

"Do you mind staying outside?"

"Not at all. As long as I can sit," Dr. Hicks said. Then, he gave Tim a knowing look. "And it's not your fault that I'm limping."

Tim smiled and didn't comment.

They walked over to Willard Park and sat down on a bench.

"Now, Tim, tell me what happened."

"It was the same dream of light. I can't remember that anything was really different," Tim said.

"But something must have been if it bothered you more and you wanted to talk to me about it."

Tim nodded.

"It's just that it seemed so much more intense, like I was experiencing it for the first time, not the millionth." He sighed. "I don't know what to say about it, but it scared me so bad that I woke up Zahara and I couldn't stop shaking for a long time. I was awake for more than an hour."

Dr. Hicks was listening intently and when Tim stopped talking, he stayed silent. Tim was used to that. He knew that sometimes, Dr. Hicks had to think about it.

"How long has it been since you last had that particular dream?"

Tim shook his head. "I don't know. It's been a while. All of the nightmares have been less since..." He reddened.

"Since what?" Dr. Hicks asked.

"Since I married Zahara."

"That's nothing to be embarrassed about. In fact, it makes a lot of sense. And actually, I think your reaction to this dream makes sense as well."

"Why? Why would I be so much more upset about it when I know what the dream is?"

"For the simple reason that you haven't had it lately. It's like medication. Your body builds up a tolerance for it and you have to take more to get the same result. If you do the right thing, you stop taking it and go on with your life. However, if you need to take that same medication again, say a year later, the effect of that medicine will be much stronger than it was when your body had a tolerance for it. It's been a long time since you had that dream and you've forgotten how it felt to have it, at least, you've forgotten enough that, when it shows up again, your mind isn't ready for the emotions tied to that dream and you react very strongly to it."

"How do I get rid of it?"

"You may not, Tim," Dr. Hicks said and smiled sympathetically. "I know that's not what you want to hear, but it's true. You have gone through so much that I wouldn't be surprised if you have to deal with occasional nightmares for a long time. But even if you do, you've already conquered them. You know that they're only dreams. You know that they won't make reality any different. You have a chance to lessen their hold."

"How?" Tim asked. "After all this time, I would think that I'd have got rid of them or at least got over reacting to them like I did."

"You know what, Tim? I still have nightmares about what happened to me, sometimes. That was more than thirty years ago, and I still get the occasional nightmare."

Tim sighed and rested his elbows on his knees.

"It doesn't have to be that dramatic," Dr. Hicks said, smiling. "They wake me up, but I go back to sleep, knowing that they're just dreams."

"It's just that...I know that it bothers Zahara when I have the nightmares. It scares her a little, not because I do anything to her, but because... it shows a life that isn't...normal, not even for her. I don't like reminding her that her husband isn't normal."

"Have you told her what you dream?"

"Some of it. Not all."

"To protect her or yourself?"

"Mostly me. She pushes for me to tell her more. Sometimes, I do, but sometimes, I just want to hide it away."

Dr. Hicks nodded and thought for a few seconds.

"Okay, Tim. I think what you need to do is not stress about the nightmares. I know you will, but if you work on not stressing, over time, they'll lessen in intensity, but if you start dreading them, each one will be worse. And this is my suggestion. You won't like it, but I think it will help you in the long run."

Tim looked at Dr. Hicks. "What is it?"

"I know that you sometimes can tell that you'll have the nightmares. When you can, tell Zahara before you go to bed. Let her comfort you in advance. Sometimes, that might even be enough to keep them away. I know you don't want to do that, but remember that she's your wife. You love her and she loves you. She wants to help you. Let her. You know she's strong enough for it."

"I know."

"Good. Then, follow through on it. If you don't know, then, that's fine. You shouldn't pretend, but if you can tell that it'll likely happen, let her know."

Tim felt himself tense at the suggestion. Dr. Hicks could clearly tell.

"Tim, this is the next step. You've gone really far already, but you can get further than you are. That means opening up to the person who sees you in your most vulnerable state, trusting that she won't abandon you, that she won't be put off by that part of you."

"I don't want her to know all of that."

"I'm not saying that you have to give her every gory detail. I'm just suggesting that you should tell her more than you have, since it sounds like you're telling her as little as you can get away with."

"Right."

"Was there anything else?"

Tim took a breath and shook his head.

"Nothing that can't wait until next week. Thanks. Thanks for making the trek down here just to talk to me."

"I had the time, Tim," Dr. Hicks said. "If I hadn't, I would have suggested that you come to me later in the day."

Tim smiled and then looked at Dr. Hicks' feet. He knew that they'd been hurting him more lately.

"Do you need help back to your car?"

"No. It's not as bad as that," Dr. Hicks said. "Leave me a little of my pride." But he smiled as he spoke. "You can go and eat some lunch."

"Thanks again and see you next week."

"See you."

They shook hands and Tim watched as Dr. Hicks limped away. He didn't say it aloud, but every time he saw Dr. Hicks walking, he was grateful anew that his feet had healed. He knew that Dr. Hicks had a lot of pain he dealt with, even though he denied it being very bad.

"Hey, Tim!"

Tim turned around and saw Tony and Ziva walking toward him with bags.

"You want lunch?" Tony called. "We got some for you, too."

"Yeah. I'm coming. Thanks."

He went inside with them and had lunch. Then, they all got back to work on the cold case files.