Chapter 35

Over the next couple of days, things did start to calm down. There was plenty of press on the shooting, but somehow, they managed to hide the victim. Tim was actually quite impressed with how Director Norton handled it, and he did handle it himself. If anyone found it odd that the FBI was involved, he managed to distract the media very adroitly. Whatever chaos had gone on in the background, Tim was genuinely unaware of it. He had not tried to keep up with it. While he knew that Jenny had been called to various meetings, she had not told him what they were about and he had tried not to know.

The fact that someone had claimed to be doing it for him made him more than a little nervous. He'd been sleeping badly the last couple of nights, not from nightmares, but from anxiety. He'd already met with Dr. Hicks again to talk about it, but he was still struggling a little bit.

Finally, he decided he needed to do something.

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

Gibbs was down in his basement, planing some wood. He hadn't had as much need to keep up since Tim got married. He didn't come over as much where he had a wife to take care of him and to take care of. If Gibbs was honest, he missed having that regular companionship. It wasn't that he never saw anyone else, but no one else worked with wood like Tim did. It was funny since Tim's carpentry had started as a desperate attempt to help him recover from his psychotic break, to get him through his need to do everything absolutely perfectly.

Suddenly, he heard his door open.

"Hey, Boss."

He looked up and smiled.

"Tim."

"Mind if I start on something?"

"Does Zahara mind?"

Tim smiled as he came down the stairs.

"Nope. She's known about my carpentry since Marrakech. I told her that I needed to go and work with some wood and she understood."

"What do you want to make?"

"I'm not sure. Zahara said that it had to be something useful."

Gibbs smiled at that.

"So no boxes," Tim added, grinning. "She said I have enough boxes."

"How about a headboard?"

Tim's eyes actually widened a little bit and Gibbs caught one of the rare glimpses of the way he used to be before more than ten years at the school of hard knocks. It still gave Gibbs a pang to know that he was the one who had put Tim on the path that had removed that innocent look, but he tried to push it aside since he knew that Tim didn't want him feeling guilty.

"I don't know, Boss. A headboard? That's...way more complicated. It's...a lot bigger than anything I've made."

"You can do it."

"Will you help me?"

"Of course."

"Okay...I guess I'll try that."

"Good. Start looking at the wood you want and then, you'll need to decide on a style."

"A style? Right. Uh...where would I look for something like that?"

"Come up with it yourself. ...or see if the Internet has something. It seems to have everything else."

"Right."

"Just look at wood for now."

"Okay. I can do that."

Tim started looking at the stack of wood and Gibbs went back to planing. He figured he knew why Tim was here. Even though he admitted that he was glad Jorgenson was dead, Tim was bothered by someone claiming to have done it for him. Jenny had shown Gibbs the video and he could understand why Tim was troubled. If thinking about wood helped Tim find some equilibrium, Gibbs was all for it.

"What's this, Boss?" Tim asked and turned around with a plank in his hand.

"Cedar."

"I like it," he said. "There's quite a bit of it here. Were you saving it for something?"

"Nope."

Gibbs had forgotten he had that. What had he bought it for? He couldn't even remember now.

"Are you sure?" Tim asked.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow and Tim looked a little sheepish.

"Okay. I want to use this, then."

"Okay. Start sorting it out then."

Tim nodded and turned back to the wood. Gibbs waited to see if Tim was going to bring up what was obviously on his mind, but for the next half hour, Tim was simply sorting through the wood, pulling out cedar planks and looking at them carefully. Gibbs kept planing.

"I don't like this, Boss," Tim said finally.

"What?" Gibbs asked, not turning around.

"You already know. Everyone does. I don't like that someone claims to have killed Jorgenson for me."

"Can't change it."

"I know that."

"Can't stop it."

"I know."

Gibbs turned around.

"Then, let it go."

Tim sat down on a stool.

"It's not that simple for me, Boss," he said. "I'm trying. I really am, but I just can't... stop being bothered."

"Why not?"

"Because it's wrong! No matter how I feel about Jorgenson, he still had the right to his day in court."

"Tim, do you really think that Jorgenson was going to be put on trial?"

"I don't know," Tim said. "And I'm being honest here, Boss. I really don't know. I know that it was possible they'd just make him disappear somehow, but I had Director Norton's guarantee that I'd know where he was."

"Really?"

"Yes."

For a moment, Gibbs toyed with the idea that Jorgenson had been killed by the FBI...but then, why send the message? To confuse the issue? Maybe. He set that aside. No one knew who had done it at this point and worrying about it wouldn't help.

"I just can't look at this as a good thing...and I mean... I can't look at killing him as being a good thing. Him dead... I have to admit that I don't mind that. Just one less person I have to worry about coming after me."

"Can't have it both ways."

"Yes, I can. If he had died trying to get away or if he had died of some disease or been executed under the law, I wouldn't have lost any sleep over that."

"Are you losing sleep?"

"Yeah, I am," Tim said, honestly. "Not all of it, but some of it."

"What does Dr. Hicks say?"

"That it'll just take time to come to terms with it, but that I can if I really try."

"Are you?"

Tim looked at him and nodded.

"I don't have a choice but to try. It's not just me now, Boss. I can't lay that burden on Zahara. I know that she could and would bear it if she had to, but I can't just ignore that I have someone else who is always in my life, and I love her too much to make her suffer for what my life can be like. She's already sacrificed a lot for me. I don't need to add to it."

Gibbs set down the planer and walked over to Tim. He put his hands on Tim's shoulders.

"No matter why Jorgenson was killed, it is not your fault, Tim. Jorgenson brought this on himself as sure as if he had been executed by the law. This would not have happened if he hadn't chosen what he did. Nothing about this is your fault, and you need to accept that none of it is your fault. Not one thing. None of it. You couldn't control Jorgenson and you can't control whoever decided to kill him. You need to let it go."

It was to Tim's credit that he didn't ask why Gibbs was being so intense about it. They both knew what Tim's life could be like if he let himself fall into guilt again. They both knew how far he had fallen in the past.

"I'm working on it," Tim said again.

Gibbs nodded and let Tim go. He walked back to his plank and started planing again.

"How's Carew?" he asked after another few silent minutes.

"I called this evening before I came here. Tamara told me that she was going to transfer him back up here tomorrow. He's doing better, but he still seems a little out of it, she said. Sometimes, he knows where he is and what's going on, but he still has moments when he starts talking about a farm and getting somewhere there."

"He going to make it?" Gibbs glanced back at Tim and he was studiously staring at the cedar he'd chosen.

"The doctors seem to think so," Tim said. "How long it will take is anyone's guess, I think."

Gibbs nodded without replying. He knew that Tim would be glad to see Carew recover, as much it galled him to know that Tim had completely moved on from hating Carew while the rest of the team was still upset by everything he'd done.

After another twenty minutes, Tim took a breath and turned around.

"I'll see if I can think of something manageable," he said. "Thanks, Boss."

Gibbs just nodded again and watched as Tim went home to be with his wife. Was there a little bit of envy that Tim had managed to find a version of a normal life? Maybe a little bit. As far as he had fallen, Tim had created a home and a family out of the ashes of his former life. That was good.

Once he heard Tim leave the house, Gibbs walked over to the cedar. It would be beautiful, no matter what Tim did with it. Some of it was a little rough still, though. Maybe it could use some extra planing.

Nodding to himself, Gibbs set his own wood aside, carried the cedar over and began to smooth out each plank so that it was ready for Tim to use the next time he came.

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

He was almost back to the beginning. The steps were very difficult, almost as if he was slogging through deep mud. Maybe it had been raining.

Yes, it had been raining. A deluge. That was why it was so hard to get back.

"I'm trying to get back," he whispered, still with his eyes closed. "I'm trying to get back."

"Get back where, Dad?"

There was one of the voices he knew, although this one didn't help him much. Tamara was better.

"Dad, Mom will be back, soon. She just needed a break."

"I'm trying to get back."

"I don't understand, Dad. If you're trying to make my life even more difficult than you usually do, then, you're really succeeding."

"I don't think he's trying to be difficult, sweetie. I think he's doing what he says. He's trying to get back...here."

"He is here."

"Not in his mind. I don't know where he is, but he's not here and he's trying to get back here. I'm glad."

The voice he wanted to hear more than anything else, and then the hand that anchored him. In fact, the mud didn't seem so deep. He could make it, but he was so tired. He wasn't sure he could take another step.

"Mayday," he whispered. "Someone save me."

"I'm right here, Levi. I just need you to get back to me. I'm right here, waiting for you."

He could hear her. She was so close. He tried and tried to slog through the mud. It was so hard and he was so tired by the effort.

He kept going. She was right there.

...and then, Levi opened his eyes and was moderately surprised to see that he was in a hospital bed. He remembered waking previously, but at the same time, he didn't feel like he'd really taken in anything before.

"Levi," Tamara said.

"Tamara," he said, feeling tired. No, he was more than tired. He was exhausted, but he'd managed to leave the farm. It had never been that hard before...but then, he'd never really wanted to be there before.

"Yes," she said, smiling. "I'm here."

"And you're not dead," he said in a weak voice.

"No, I'm not. I'm alive."

He reached up and touched her cheek for a moment before getting tired out by that effort. His hand fell back to the bed and his eyes closed.

"Good," he whispered. "I need you."

"I'm here."

"Good," Levi said again.

And fell asleep.

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

Tamara smiled as Levi's eyes closed yet again and he relaxed back into sleep. Somehow, she knew that this was better. It was hard to say exactly why, but he was better than he had been only a few hours before. She kept hold of his hand and then she rubbed his head with her other hand, moderately surprised to realize that Levi was not completely bald like she had thought. He was balding and would likely have a few tufts of hair growing if he didn't recover enough to care soon. How had she never known that? It was strange to think of Levi as balding instead of bald. Why, she wasn't sure, but it was strange.

"How long is he going to be like this, Mom?"

Tamara looked across the bed to Bri and smiled again. This had been extremely disconcerting for her daughter. Bri hadn't ever seen her father in such a condition. Very likely, no one had before.

"He made it," Tamara said. "He made it back."

"Back? From where?"

"I don't know, but when he looked at me, it was like he was really seeing me for the first time. He's back and I think it's going to be getting better from now on."

Bri looked down at Levi again and nodded uncertainly.

"You don't like this, do you," Tamara said.

"Do you?" Bri asked, a little belligerently.

"No, I don't, but not for the same reason you don't. It's hard for you to keep pretending you hate him when he's like this."

Bri sighed and stood up. She walked over to the window in order to avoid her mother's gaze.

"You don't know how to handle your father being not in control. You don't know what to do when he's not putting on that calm mask that keeps everyone from knowing what he's feeling. You know now and it bothers you, even though it's what you wanted for so much of your life."

Bri turned around.

"This is not what I wanted," she said angrily, pointing to her father.

"Not in the details, but in the essentials it is," Tamara said, not rising to Bri's anger. "Brianna, you wanted your father to show what he felt. You wanted to know what he was thinking because he never let anyone know. And you do. You know exactly why he's like this and it's not just because of whatever they did to him. It's because he thought he'd lost me. It's because he thought his family was gone, and that was the only thing he couldn't bear to lose. So now, you have direct evidence of what you always wanted to have, but you don't know to deal with it now that you have it."

Bri didn't respond. She just turned back to the window. Tamara found it interesting that she had refused to leave, even though she clearly was uncomfortable with being there, even though her feelings about Levi were ambivalent at best.

"You've always been more of a doer than a thinker, Bri. You have your flaws, but you've always been about action, not about thinking. You are very smart and you know how to think, but you only use that in order to figure out what you're going to do. You know that you can't just leave things the way they are now that you got what you wanted. You just don't know what to do and it's making you angry. You prefer anger to regret. It seems like you've done that with everything, not just with your father. Even that Agent McGee."

Bri spun back around again.

"What do you know about him? Why?"

"Why? Because I asked him to tell me. He didn't want to, but I insisted. I know the very basics of what you and Quinn did to him. I know the very basics of what he did for you...and for your father. And I know that you've never been willing to admit that what you did to him was wrong."

"It was orders."

"That's a copout and you know it," Tamara said, sternly. "I'm not going to force you to relate everything that happened in the past, but you know the difference between right and wrong, and even if what you did was justifiable in some way, you still know that Agent McGee was not deserving of what you did, that he suffered at your hands. But just like you don't want to admit that your father has changed, you don't want to admit that you did something wrong. You want to keep things as you see them to be with no input from anyone else. And, Bri, no one is perfect. Not you, not me, not your father. No one. You can't expect it of anyone, but you also can't ascribe it to yourself. You weren't this hard and cold when you were younger."

"I wasn't in the CIA when I was younger. It changes people."

"It's more than that. I know, more than most, how the CIA can change people," Tamara said, looking down at Levi. "But you changed for more than one reason. You changed so you could be more like your father, but you did it by being cold, not by a mask. You didn't hide anything. You just changed the emotion to coldness. I'm asking you to let yourself warm up, to become the wonderfully intelligent and warm woman I know is still inside you. Let yourself believe in humanity again, Bri. Let yourself believe in your father again."

Bri turned away, but this time, it was to walk to the door.

"I'm going to take a break. I'll be back later."

"I'll be here."

"I know."

Then, she left.

Tamara sighed, but then, she smiled down at Levi who was still sleeping.

"It's going to happen, Levi. This family is going to come back together. Somehow, I know it will."