Chapter 32

He woke up again. He remembered waking up before. He remembered that Tamara had been there, that he hadn't really believed she was, but that she had been.

Was she here still?

He thought about it, and there was a hand holding his.

He managed to turn his head and he saw her. Tamara was there beside him. Asleep.

"Dad?"

The soft voice startled him. Where had the voice come from? He tried not to panic.

"Dad. I'm over here. Other side."

He turned his head and yes, there was the source of the voice.

"Brianna," he said.

She was standing by the window, staring at him.

He stared back, not sure what to do. He couldn't let go of Tamara. Even looking away from her, he wasn't sure if she was really there.

"I don't know what to do, now," she said after a silent minute.

He really didn't know how to answer her unspoken question. He knew that he would have had an easy response before, but at this moment, he really couldn't think of a single thing to say.

Bri walked over to him and sat down. There was a searching expression on her face.

"How did they break you? I can see that they did, but how? No one ever broke you."

He looked at her again and then he looked away...so that he could see Tamara.

"She was dead," he whispered finally.

"No, she wasn't. She never was. You might have thought she was, but she wasn't."

"She was dead," he said again. There was no way to explain what had managed to tear him apart in any other words. That was all it had taken.

"No, Dad. Mom didn't die."

He couldn't explain in normal words. He really couldn't, but he tried.

"All of them died," he said, seeing the pages of photos in his mind's eye. "One after another. Dead. Even Papa. Dead, years after. That's what the farm is for."

"What are you talking about, Dad?"

But then, Tamara woke up and he forgot about Bri. He looked at Tamara and she smiled gently at him.

"Levi, how are you feeling?"

He didn't know how to answer that question, either, but Tamara hadn't yet disappeared. She was still there.

"You're here," he whispered.

"Yes, I am."

He reached out to touch her face and felt the joy when he could feel her there.

He closed his eyes. Another psalm came into his mind, and he didn't know how he could remember it when everything else in his brain was so scrambled. This was another prayer. Again, it was back to King David. He wasn't sure why it was always King David. He didn't remember being focused on him in school, but he was now. The 51st psalm was all about pleading for forgiveness for sins.

"Hein emet chafatza va-tuchot, uv'satum choch'mah todi-eini
T'chat'eini v'eizov v'et-har, t'chab'seini umi-sheleg albin"

"Levi, what are you saying?"

But he couldn't manage both to say his prayer and to answer her question, so he chose to finish.

"Tashmi-eini sason v'simchah, tageilnah atzamot dikita
Hasteir panecha meichata-ai, v'chol avonotai m'cheih
Leiv tahor b'ra li Elohim, v'ruach nachon chadeish b'kirbi"

He didn't open his eyes, but Tamara didn't say anything else. That was fine. Speaking wasn't necessary.

If only it was as simple as being cleansed by God, but life didn't really work like that. It wasn't as easy as asking. But for now, the simple act of reciting the prayer tired him out and he fell asleep, still holding Tamara's hand.

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

Ducky pushed the button for the elevator, but it didn't come. Since he knew that Gibbs wasn't there, he was surprised. He stood there for a few minutes, wondering if he should just take the stairs.

"Something wrong with the elevator, Dr. Mallard?" Jimmy asked.

"I don't know. I suppose it's possible."

Then, there was a ding and the doors opened, revealing Tim looking a little troubled.

"Timothy! I didn't know you had come back already."

Tim smiled a little. "Gibbs sent me home last night."

"Did you find Carew?" Jimmy asked.

"Yeah," Tim said, but he looked bothered still. "He was...really in a bad way. I'll bet he would have been dead in another day or two."

"But he's not," Ducky said.

"No. He's in a hospital with Tamara. And we arrested Jorgenson. He showed up."

"It sounds as though it was as successful as it could have been."

Tim nodded.

"Is something wrong, Timothy?"

Tim shrugged. "It was...just hard seeing him that way, but they're bringing Jorgenson up here and Director Shepard doesn't want me there when they arrive."

"Ah. So what are your plans in the meantime?"

"Passing the word along to the people who should know."

"And that's why you came down here?"

Tim smiled. "Yeah. And to thank you both for supporting what I wanted to do."

"My pleasure," Ducky said.

"You were right, Tim," Jimmy added. "There's nothing wrong with that. ...can I tell Breena that you're available for dinner now?"

Tim's smile this time was more genuine.

"Give me a day or two to decompress first. Maybe this weekend?"

"I'll tell her."

"Great."

Then, Jimmy went back into Autopsy. Ducky looked at Tim more closely and it seemed that there was still something wrong.

"Timothy, you still seem upset about something. Were you in the elevator?"

Tim looked a little embarrassed.

"Yeah, I was. Just needed to do some thinking and I knew I could be alone in there."

"May I ask what you were thinking about?"

At first, Ducky thought that Tim was going to say no or that he would dissemble and act as though he was fine when he was clearly bothered by something. Then, Tim took a breath and let it out in a whoosh.

"Yeah, but could it be outside?"

"Of course. What's wrong, Timothy?"

"Just my brain," Tim said, managing to smile a little.

"Well, then, I'm certainly curious and if you think it might help, I'm also willing to be a listening ear."

"I appreciate that," Tim said.

They left the building and walked to Willard Park.

"Now," Ducky said as they sat on a bench, "what were you thinking about?"

Tim looked away from him, leaning forward and resting his elbows on his knees.

"I was giving my report to Director Shepard and I suddenly realized something, Ducky."

"What?"

"I'm gray."

Ducky furrowed his brow. He wasn't following this conversation and he didn't like being confused.

"You don't seem particularly gray to me," he said, testing the waters.

Tim didn't smile.

"I've spent the last ten years trying to live my life in black and white. Good and bad. Right and wrong. ...legal and illegal. Every time I've been pulled into that gray area, I've fought tooth and nail to get back to black and white. ...and all this time, I was...gray." Tim sat up and stared at him, looking more than a little upset. "The only reason I could do this for Levi, the only reason I could open an investigation into what happened to him was because I don't live a life that's black and white. My life is gray, Ducky, and it has been all along. This thing that I've hated and tried to avoid is... it's me."

And now it made sense. Ducky was well aware of Tim's reluctance to live the life that had taken him away from everything good, and yet, he had willingly walked into that life more than once and not even seemed bothered by it in the past.

"Timothy, surely you aren't now thinking that saving Levi Carew was a mistake."

"No!"

"Then, what's the problem?" Ducky asked. "What you did was a good thing, something that few others would have done and you succeeded. If you agree that this was a good thing, then, what's wrong?"

"I've been lying to myself, Ducky," Tim said, seeming distressed. "I've been trying to be the good guy all these years, but..."

"But nothing. You are."

"Then, why am I living in this gray area and why didn't I even notice that I was?"

"Timothy, when you say that you live in the gray area, what do you mean by gray?"

"There are no rules I have to live by. What happens depends entirely on whether or not a good person is making the decision. No laws, no rules."

"Then, it's a good thing you're there to make that decision, Timothy, because you are a good person. If that is your definition of gray, then, what you are describing is completely neutral. It can easily be skewed to one side or the other, but it is neutral. If you are there in that world, you can turn it into good."

"But I don't like...not having rules. Rules are...safer."

Ducky felt his brow furrowing again.

"Safer? For whom?"

"For me," Tim said. "I don't want to get pulled into...doing the wrong things. Again."

"Timothy, why would you worry about that? While you're not perfect, of course, you have never willingly done the wrong thing."

"Except when I did," Tim said.

"Meaning?"

"When I was going to get revenge. When I was going to kill the people who controlled me."

Ducky nodded in understanding.

"When you'd had a mental breakdown."

"No, Ducky. I mean, I did, but I wanted to kill them before I'd fallen apart."

"Not having been there when you were in that situation, I could be wrong, but Timothy, everything that you've been willing to tell us about that period of time indicates that you were far from thinking clearly, even before the final mental break. There were plenty of cracks beforehand."

"I still like having rules."

Ducky chanced a smile. "Even when you know that you have a mostly consequence-free choice about whether to follow them or not?"

To his relief, Tim managed to smile back.

"Yeah. At least I can pretend the limits are still there."

"I won't try to force you to ignore them, of course, but Timothy, the true limits are inside of you, not laws written on a page. Your morals and your ethics are the limits and those exist no matter where you are, no matter what the situation. You have lived most of your life by a particular code and that is what makes you the good man you are. The good man we all know and care about."

Tim shifted around and looked uncomfortable at the praise, but Ducky wanted to drive the point home as deeply as possible.

"A man whose moral compass is so deeply ingrained that he was willing to set everything aside to help a man who nearly ruined his life and did his best to make sure that he was safe."

"Ducky..."

"And a man I count myself lucky to have as a friend and colleague," Ducky said. "Timothy, this was successful. Don't let yourself start feeling like a failure because you've suddenly become aware of what has been true all along. You don't have to seek out these gray places in the world, but don't be afraid of them. Don't be afraid of yourself. There's no need."

Ducky patted Tim on the back.

"Thanks, Ducky," Tim said softly and then let out a loud exhalation. "I should probably make myself conspicuous by my absence."

"Perhaps it would be worth seeing if Dr. Hicks is available," Ducky said.

Tim looked at him in surprise.

"You could kill two birds with one stone. I think you might benefit from talking this out with him and I believe he is also an acquaintance of Carew. He would likely want to know the good news."

"You're probably right, Ducky," Tim said. "Thanks for...letting me talk about it."

"My pleasure. Now, I should get back to work and you should make sure you're gone when Jethro arrives."

"Yeah."

Tim got up and walked away from the park, toward his car. Ducky watched him go and felt both a bit of sadness and a bit of relief. While this had been a shock to Tim's mind, he was strong enough that he had been able to deal with it and explain himself without having a meltdown. He hadn't resisted the idea of getting some extra help and he had listened to what Ducky had said.

Perhaps this was something he would not share with the others. Given the nature of the team's perspective on Tim and the events in his life, it might just be better to let Tim work through it as he was able and not with the well-meaning aid of his colleagues.

Decision made, Ducky stood and headed into the building.