Chapter 29
"Do you think Tim was okay?" Tony asked as they ate at a local pizza place.
"I do not know," Ziva said, shaking her head. "He would not admit to there being a problem, but Gibbs sent him home and he would not have gone on his own. You know that."
"Yeah. There was something about seeing Carew like that, though. Man, it even had me feeling a bit sorry for him. I don't know how Tim felt."
"He knows Hebrew," Ziva said. "Of all the things about Carew...I would not have guessed that he would be Jewish. His name is not Jewish."
"Levi?" Tony asked, raising an eyebrow.
"No. Carew. That is not a Jewish surname."
"Well, maybe he changed it."
"Perhaps."
"Does it make a difference to you? Him being Jewish?" Tony asked.
Ziva looked at him and then down at her plate.
"Yes. It does. Not as much as it has to Tim, but it does. It...makes him seem more human."
Then, she looked up at him.
"Does this make a difference to you?"
"For now. No matter how much I hate him, I didn't like seeing him so weak, and then...with his wife. Who wouldn't be..."
"Touched?" Ziva suggested. "Carew has never seemed to care about anyone or anything beyond his own plans. That he could be brought to tears by seeing his wife alive..."
"Yeah." Then, Tony forced a smile. "And do you know what the worst thing is?"
"What?"
"Tim was right."
Ziva smiled, too.
"He will not rub our noses in it."
"Not too much."
"What do you think will happen with Jorgenson?" Ziva asked.
"I don't know. I mean, he's not FBI anymore, but he was and he was for a long time. I can't imagine that this will stay under wraps."
"Perhaps it should not stay under wraps," Ziva said. "Perhaps this is one time when publicity will be a good thing."
"Maybe. I have my doubts."
"As long as he does not get away," Ziva said, firmly. "After all he has done to Tim and all he has now done and been willing to do, he must pay the price."
"I'd like to make that more immediate," Tony said, darkly, and swore under his breath.
"As would I, but you know that Tim would not like that."
"I know. Weird guy."
They finished their meal and then headed back to the police station where they'd placed Jorgenson and the mercenary they'd arrested. He seemed plenty eager to help out if it was going to get him leniency. It was a practical approach, but they were willing to go along with it. He wasn't the one pulling the strings. Logan was dead, and Jorgenson was the only one left who mattered.
No matter what else, Jorgenson wasn't getting off this time.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
He opened his eyes. Had it been true? Had it been real? He couldn't bring himself to believe it, but his whole being ached with the desire to believe it.
He didn't know where he was, but either he was extra delusional or he was in an actual bed. There were unidentifiable sounds.
Had it happened?
Then, it dawned on him that he was holding someone's hand.
Could it be?
He couldn't bring himself to do anything for the moment. He just lay there with his eyes on the indistinct ceiling, wondering if what he vaguely recalled happening had actually occurred.
Then, the hand he was holding shifted.
"Levi, can you hear me?"
He still only stared at the ceiling. The voice sounded real, but was it?
"Tamara," he whispered, almost inaudibly.
"Yes! Levi, I'm here."
"You were dead," he said.
"No, I wasn't. I heard your voice. I got out in time."
"You were dead," he said again.
"No, Levi. Look at me. I'm alive."
He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to calm himself. He knew it didn't sound like he was agitated, but he was. He just didn't have the energy to do anything about it.
"Levi, look at me."
He turned his head slightly and caught a glimpse of gray-streaked hair. Then, he went back to staring at the ceiling.
Then, a soft hand grabbed his chin and turned his face to the side and he found himself staring at the one person who had made all his efforts since leaving the CIA worth it. The one thing truly of value in his life.
"Tamara," he whispered again.
"Yes, Levi."
He reached out with his free hand and touched her face. She was really there. While a part of him was nearly overcome with joy that she was alive, there was a large part of him that still didn't quite believe it was real.
Perhaps that was why he could say it without hesitation, without worry that he seemed weak, able to be taken advantage of. Part of him didn't believe that she was really there.
"They broke me," he said, finally. "No one ever broke me. Not once. No matter what they did. They never took anything from me that made me break. I never had anything...I couldn't lose. ...until now. They broke me. I'm broken."
His grip on her hand tightened as his throat seemed to close up.
"I'm broken," he said again. "I'm broken."
Then, Tamara freed her hand from his grip and sat on the bed beside him. She put her arms around him and held him tightly.
"I'm broken," he said again in a whisper, unable to say anything else.
Tamara leaned over and whispered in his ear.
"Then, I'll help put you back together."
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
After a while, Tim had calmed enough that he could finish showering and get dressed. Zahara had let him, but he knew that it wasn't the end of it, and all things considered, it probably shouldn't be. So he quickly got ready for bed and then stepped out of the bathroom. Zahara was sitting on their bed, cross-legged, looking at him with concern.
"Are you all right, now, Tim?" she asked.
He walked over and sat down beside her. "Yeah. I am. Not great, but I'm okay."
She touched his hand. "What happened?"
"I'm not sure."
"You were crying, Tim," Zahara said. "That is not something you do without a reason."
"I know. I just..." Tim held her hand and looked at it. "From the moment that we found Levi, there was just something... and then, when I was talking to Daniel, it was worse. But I couldn't show any of that while I was working. When I got home, I suddenly had to get rid of it."
"What was it?"
Tim thought about it for a few minutes. Zahara just sat where she was and waited.
"It was like when I was coming back from Yemen a few years ago," he said, in a sudden realization. "I managed to keep everything under control until it was over. Then, I had to express everything that had frightened me. Gibbs was there to talk me through it then. When I saw Levi on the floor, I saw myself. I saw how close I had come to dying in the past. And when I was talking to Daniel, I regretted the way he was feeling because I contributed to it, even if I didn't mean to."
"It isn't your fault," Zahara said. "You didn't want others to suffer. You never have, not while I have known you."
"I'm not perfect, Zahara," Tim said.
Zahara smiled. "I did not say you were. And I did not expect you to be perfect."
Tim smiled back.
"Now, I have one more question for you," she said.
"What's that?"
Zahara held out the Hand of Fatima necklace. Tim remembered taking it off before getting into the shower. She must have seen it in his things.
"Where did you get this? It looks like Ahmed's."
"It is. He gave it to me, that day when he went running with me."
"He did? Why? It belonged to our father. He gave it to Ahmed before he left. Ahmed said that our father had told him that it would protect the family while he was away. He has never been without it in my memory."
"Really? He didn't tell me that. He said that he got it from his dad, but that he wanted me to have it because it would protect me from evil and that meant it would protect you, too." Tim's smile softened and he stroked Zahara's cheek. "I didn't have a problem with that."
Zahara cupped her hand around his.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I just didn't think about it. The last few weeks have been full of pretty much everything else. I've been wearing it. I just didn't think to tell you."
Zahara smiled and put the necklace around his neck and then covered the charm with her own hand.
"I will feel better with you wearing the khamsa. I know that you do not believe in these things, but I do."
"I may not necessarily believe that the charm protects me, but the sentiment behind it makes me feel better."
Then, Tim hugged Zahara tightly.
"And this makes me feel better, too. Just being close to you."
"I will always be here," Zahara said.
Tim lifted her chin and kissed her. She responded to the kiss and they lay down together.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Roy sat at his desk, wondering if the decision he'd made would come back to bite him. Unlike Levi, he didn't have seemingly unlimited favors he was owed. He appreciated how quickly Daniel had written up his account, though. He must have started writing as soon as he got back. It was thorough and professional. Roy had expected nothing less, although he would have picked someone else to do this if he could have. He didn't like sending Daniel to take down the man who had almost killed him. There was very likely a hefty dose of revenge in the act, even if it had been sanctioned.
His phone rang, as he had expected it to, even so late in the evening.
"Yes?"
"What in the name of all that is holy are you CIA people doing?"
"Director Norton, it's pretty late for you to be so riled up, isn't it?"
"The CIA does not have the authority to operate on U.S. soil, and what in the world was NCIS doing working with one of your agents?"
"You seem to be very well-informed. Would you mind telling me where you got your information?"
"I don't ask for your sources. Don't ask for mine."
"I was apprehending a rogue agent that had been missing for years. In fact, this was the first time in four years that he'd been seen."
"Why NCIS?"
"Because they had been involved something that crossed paths with him."
"Jorgenson?"
"What about him? I don't have him. He's a private citizen."
"Someone didn't send NCIS that memo."
"Oh, I'm sure they know that. They probably just don't care." Roy decided to test the waters a bit. "Honestly, Darius, do you really want to be involved in this? You don't have to be."
There was a long pause. It might even have been a little surprised.
"I heard about Carew."
"Did you?" Roy said, neutrally.
"You should have told me, Roy. I haven't done anything to deserve being kept out of the loop like this. You might despise Jorgenson. Fine. So do I. But the FBI is not Jorgenson. I was blind-sided and that's not right."
"So...in the future you want to know?"
"If I'm going to be grilled about it later, yes."
"So noted."
Another pause.
"You got your agent?"
"Taken care of."
"Good."
Then, there was a click and Roy hung up, smiling. That had actually been more informative than he would have thought.
Time to go home.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Gibbs hoped that Tim had done what he needed to do. Just like in Yemen, Tim had been getting overwhelmed by what had happened. Gibbs had been able to see it in his eyes as he watched Carew. He had seen it when Tim had been talking to Daniel. It was far too easy for Tim to put himself in those situations. He'd had far too much experience with them himself.
Now, it was just a matter of making sure that everything on this end could work out the way it should. Jorgenson was not getting away with this. Gibbs didn't care who tried to get him released. He was not leaving this cell, except in custody to be transferred back to D.C.
Then, he let his mind wander to Carew himself. Even Tony and Ziva had been taken aback by what had obviously been done to him. One would have to be a lot more than callous not to be shocked and wonder just what had been able to break someone so famously unflappable as Levi Carew had always been.
From Gibbs' point of view, it was all about his wife. What little he'd seen of Carew in the context of his wife had shown him a deep connection that had managed to weather the storm of Carew himself. If he had thought she was dead, maybe that was enough to break him.
Regardless, Tim had needed the chance to decompress, and while Gibbs had helped him before, he had a wife who would do a better job of it this time. Gibbs knew that Zahara was more than equal to the challenge. While she appeared shy in public, that didn't remove the strength she had. He could still see her expression when she was upset about his reluctance to help Tim find Carew in the first place. There was no shyness that time. He smiled a little. Tim had chosen very well. For all the bumps in the road for the two of them, Zahara fit with Tim more than Gibbs could have thought possible.
"Agent Gibbs?"
Startled out of this thoughts, Gibbs looked at the officer who had spoken to him. "Yes?"
"Jorgenson is demanding to speak to you."
"Demanding?" Gibbs asked, raising an eyebrow.
"That's the word he used."
"Of course it is. About what?"
"He didn't say."
Gibbs sighed and decided to see what the ruckus was about. He wasn't above giving Jorgenson a verbal...or physical smackdown if he needed it. He followed the officer back to the holding cell where Jorgenson was standing, looking angry.
"What is it, Mr. Jorgenson?"
"NCIS does not have jurisdiction over me. I'm a private citizen."
"That's why the Virginia State Police are doing the honors of holding you until you can be transferred back to D.C. Is that all?"
Jorgenson swore at him. Gibbs raised an eyebrow.
"I'm not interested in what you have to say, Jorgenson. You have five seconds to make me interested."
Then, Gibbs turned to leave.
"After everything Carew did to your agent, I can't believe that you would try to lift a finger to help him."
Gibbs turned back. "After everything you tried to do, I can't believe you think I would lift a finger to help you."
"Do you honestly think that I'm going to actually face a trial for this, Agent Gibbs?" Jorgenson asked, scoffing at him. "They won't risk someone like me in a prison. Any more than they would risk Agent McGee in a prison. People like us know too much for the law to apply."
"What do you think is going to happen?"
"One of two things. I'll disappear or I'll die. I'll make a deal with you to make sure it's the first."
"A deal?" Gibbs asked.
"Yes. I know you could make it happen. You people aren't incompetent. If you wanted to, you could do it."
Gibbs walked up to the bars.
"You just pointed out the problem."
"What?"
"I don't want to. Maybe you're right and you won't face a trial, but I'd be satisfied if you ended up dead somewhere. I don't make deals. Not with anyone. Definitely not with you. I wouldn't trust you with a penny. I hope you rot."
Then, Gibbs walked out of the holding cell.
"What did he want?" the officer asked.
"Don't know. Couldn't figure it out," he said and went back to his chair.
Was Jorgenson right? Would he just disappear because he knew too much? Gibbs was skeptical. If they were that worried about his knowledge, surely he would have bodyguards. Like Tim did.
Well, he could hope for the dead option. That would be best for all concerned.
When Tony and Ziva arrived, he didn't say anything about Jorgenson's proposal. He just made arrangements for staying the night, making sure that nothing got Jorgenson out of this.
