Chapter 7
"Gibbs? Gibbs?"
Gibbs gestured to Tony to go over to Tim and unclipped his radio. "Yes, Ziva. I'm here."
"What happened?"
"We found McGee."
"And?"
"And, he apparently doesn't remember us."
"Why?"
"I don't know yet. It's too late to get him back before dark. We'll camp out here tonight and then head back in the morning. Tell Henson to call back the search parties."
"Will do. Two rangers found the place where McGee must have gone into the river. I don't think he slipped."
"What did you find?"
"They found McGee's wallet and radio. In the same place as the radio, there's an old logging trail. The grass near the trail is all tamped down. It could be from the plane's cargo. I contacted the local police to have them on alert, but we don't know who we're on alert for at the moment. My theory is that he startled them and they somehow forced him over the cliff and into the water."
"Until McGee can tell us more, that's as good a theory as any." Gibbs looked over at Tony who had put his gun back in his holster and rolled Tim over on his back. "We'll check back at nightfall. Talk to Henson and see what kind of vehicles could be expected to use those logging trails, particularly when loaded down."
"Right." Ziva clicked off.
Gibbs turned his attention back on Tim. "Well?"
Tony looked up. "He's hurt pretty bad, Gibbs. He has at least one, probably two, broken ribs, his legs are hashed, and there's a nasty gash on his head. He did pretty well avoiding us for the last two days."
"Yeah." He knelt down and checked Tony's diagnoses. None of the injuries were life-threatening, but Tim would be in a world of hurt until they could get him to a hospital. "Patch him up as well as you can. Is that bag his?"
"Yeah," Tony answered as he got out his first aid kit. The amount of bandaging available seemed pretty pitiful in comparison to the number of lacerations on Tim's legs and hands. "Boss, I don't know if we'll have enough to cover all these."
"Do the best you can. Take my kit, too." He tossed it to Tony and then opened the bag. All the evidence they'd collected was there along with the camera, which was missing its batteries. The camera was not working, but the memory card was still in it. He wondered how McGee had known to keep it if he truly didn't remember anything.
Tony managed to bandage up the worst of Tim's injuries, but there were more wounds still visible than not. He wondered again what had happened.
"We going to camp out here, Boss?"
He nodded. "It's a good spot. I'll get a fire going; you can get the bedding set up for McGee. He'll be needing it a lot more than we will."
Tony grumbled a little but nodded. Wherever Tim had been sleeping the last few nights had not been luxurious by any stretch of the imagination.
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He opened his eyes, half expecting to be tied up or dead, and was surprised to find that he was laying on blankets and was covered by blankets as well. Then, he remembered something of what had happened earlier.
"My name is McGee," he told himself. Why did that make so little difference? Shouldn't he remember everything now? I guess it's only in the movies, he thought grimly.
"Awake already, McGee?"
The voice startled him and he tensed and started to sit up. Gentle hands pushed him back. He looked up and saw the man called Gibbs.
"Stay down. You're in no shape to be running around for a little while," he said. Then, he grinned and continued, "Besides, you're naked right now, and I have no desire to see that. Tony didn't either, but I didn't give him the choice. You needed to be dry."
His face went bright red even though he didn't know who Tony was. He tried to think of something to say.
"Am I a prisoner?"
"Of course not."
"Then, do you have any water?" He tried to phrase the question as nonchalantly as possible, but he was almost frantic for something to drink.
Wordlessly, the man handed him a canteen. He grabbed it and gulped down nearly the entire contents, choking occasionally in his eagerness. The man crouched by him and pulled the canteen back.
"Slow down, McGee. There's time enough to rehydrate."
Immediately, he was wary again. "Why did you help me?" he asked.
"McGee, tell me what happened to you."
"I can't," he admitted and struggled into a sitting position. "Please, who am I? If you know me, tell me who I am."
Gibbs scrutinized his agent. That bewildered look in his eyes was unfeigned. He wasn't kidding.
"Your name is Timothy McGee. You have been a member of my NCIS team for the last three years. You are a computer expert, and a famous author."
"What?"
"You wrote a bestseller called Deep Six under a pseudonym. However, you still work for me."
"Why?"
"I guess you like it."
He waited for more, but Gibbs didn't add anything more. "That's who I am? A computer expert who works for NCIS and wrote a novel?"
"That's generally who you are. I can tell you from personal experience that no one knows who you really are, except you."
"But I don't know who I am. I don't know you either."
"You knew my name," Gibbs pointed out.
"But I don't know why."
"Well, what do you know?"
He hesitated. This Gibbs had seemed forthcoming, but who was he to judge? Maybe it was all an elaborate ruse.
"Still don't trust me, huh?"
"Can you blame me? For all I know, you could be one of the men trying to kill me. You were in my dream."
"Someone is trying to kill you?" Gibbs repeated. That was something new. Definite confirmation that he hadn't just fallen into the river.
"Yes. At least, I think so. They were talking about shooting someone and throwing him into the river, and I was the only person around. I figured it was a safe assumption that I was the one they were talking about."
"You're probably right. If you don't remember anything, why did you keep this bag?" Gibbs asked, pointing to the backpack by the fire.
"I don't know. I just knew that it was important. What is it?"
"It's evidence from the case we've been working."
"Is it a plane crash?"
"Yes," Gibbs didn't ask, but he eyes did.
"I dreamed it... but I dreamed you trying to kill me, too. I don't know what is real and what isn't! I just don't understand what is going on," he flushed as he noted the plaintive tone in his voice.
"I can't make you believe me, McGee."
"I can't make myself believe you, either, Gibbs." When he said the name, it felt strange on his tongue as if he was used to using a different name. "Where does that leave us?"
"At an impasse, it looks like."
He seemed so blase about the whole thing. As if it didn't matter to him whether he believed or not. It was so frustrating. He wanted desperately to believe Gibbs, but he couldn't.
"Can I have my clothes back?"
Gibbs held back a smile and grabbed Tim's clothes from where they had been drying. The shoes in particular were a bit damp, but there was no reason he couldn't get back some of his dignity. He handed them to Tim and turned back to the fire. As he jabbed the coals, his radio crackled again.
"Gibbs?"
"Ziva, you're up early."
Ziva ignored the observation. "Henson just informed me that there is a logging trail near the river where you are. If you wish to get a ride back part of the way, he will send a car to get you."
He looked over his shoulder and back quickly. "That's probably a good idea. I don't think McGee is up to a long day of hiking."
"Is he ever?" she asked facetiously.
"When will they get there?"
"It will be a couple of hours. The ranger will have to come from base camp."
"Alright. Let him know we'll be there."
Ziva gave the location of the trail and signed off.
Gibbs returned the radio to the clip on his waist and turned around. Tim was in his shirt and boxers, but he was staring at his legs. Even with the bandages covering the worst scrapes, they were a sight to behold, that was for sure.
"How did I do this to myself?" he asked quietly.
"I don't know, McGee. You tell me."
"I can't."
"Maybe you just don't want to know," Gibbs observed.
Stung, he looked up at him. "How can you think that? Do you have any idea what it's like to not know who you are?"
"Actually, McGee, I do know... at least, in part."
When Gibbs didn't go on, he said, "I feel like I've been thrown into the middle of a play, but I don't know my lines or the plot."
"Then, why aren't you trying to remember?"
"What do you think I've been doing these last days?"
"Feeling sorry for yourself is what it looks like," Gibbs said. He was deliberately goading Tim because it was interesting to see him react without any of the life experiences that had made him so hesitant. It was also possible that he'd remember things without realizing it.
"I haven't! I've been trying to stay alive. I've been trying to remember something beyond the fact that I seem to have a typewriter, that I'm in the mountains somewhere, that there was a plane crash. You told me that I'm Timothy McGee, but that means absolutely nothing to me. I don't know who Timothy McGee is! All I discovered is that I'm no good in the outdoors and that I am a part of NCIS which I know means Naval Criminal Investigative Service. I can't tell you what I like to do. I can't tell you if I am in love with anyone. I can't tell you anything of value." He stopped, panting and wincing as he tried to take deep breaths to calm down.
Gibbs looked over at Tony's motionless form. He was out and probably would be until Gibbs kicked him. Although he seemed pretty sympathetic, one never knew how Tony would horde tidbits of information only to bring them out later as weapons.
"You said that you've had dreams, McGee. What are they about?"
"They don't make any sense," he said belligerently.
"Try me."
"Why?"
Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Because maybe I can help you make sense of some of it."
"Fine. They all start at the plane crash and there are always a bunch of people around that I don't know."
"Like?"
"You and that other guy, the one I took the gun from."
"Tony."
"Right. Tony."
"Then, there's a woman who is at the crash. She never said anything."
"That would probably be Ziva."
"Why?"
"Because she's at the crash site and she's on the team."
"Oh. I also saw a woman who was shot through the head. First, she was alive and happy; then, she was dead and disappeared."
"Kate."
He turned the name over in his mind. "I didn't kill her, did I?"
"No."
Something in Gibbs' voice kept him from asking for details. She must really be dead. "Good. Then, there's this strangely-dressed woman in a lab. There's really loud music and she seems to like giving hugs."
"Abby. She works in forensics."
"Abby? That name doesn't seem to fit her."
"Believe me. It does. Anyone else?"
He shuddered. "There was this guy who was talking to a corpse and was covered in blood."
Gibbs chuckled at that description and Tim's obvious revulsion. "That would be Ducky. He's the M.E."
"M.E.?" He wracked his brain. "Medical Examiner? He does autopsies?"
"Yes. Very good, McGee. He also enjoys having conversations with dead bodies. It's a habit because very few among the living have the patience to listen to all his stories."
"Oh. I also saw two other people in the same room. Male and female and they were obviously flirting."
"Michelle Lee and Jimmy Palmer. Lee works in Legal and Palmer is Ducky's assistant."
Tim thought about the people who were apparently his colleagues. It sounded like NCIS was staffed by people from the circus. "This seems like a very strange place. Are you sure I belong there?"
"You do, McGee. Any other details?"
"There are two other men, but I only see them around the stack of crates. The first time they were alone and had guns. The second time, they were there with you and... Tony. You all tried to shoot me. Then, I fell."
"And after that?"
"After that, nothing. I always wake up." He looked off toward the river. "This isn't what I thought would happen."
"What do you mean, McGee?"
He looked back to Gibbs. "I thought that once I saw someone I knew I'd remember everything, that it would all come back. Instead, it feels like you're telling me about the life of a stranger. Why don't I remember?"
"I'm not an expert. You haven't asked about your family, you know."
He looked away again. "I don't want to know."
"Why not?"
"I don't remember them. It will be worse if I actually have a family and don't know who they are. So don't tell me."
"Okay. If that's the way you want it."
"I do," he said firmly. "When do we leave?"
"How fast can you walk right now?"
"How far did I get?"
"About twelve miles."
"Not that fast." For the first time, he smiled. It was a humorless smile, but it was an expression.
"Then, we'd better get going as soon as you eat something." Gibbs turned back to the fire. He walked over to Tony's sleeping form and nudged him. "Wake up, DiNozzo. We're getting a ride back to base camp."
"Yes, Boss," Tony said before his eyes even opened. He sat up and noticed Tim staring at him intently. "What, McGee? Is there something on my face?"
"Other than drool, no. I'm just trying to remember you, since we apparently are acquainted."
Tony hurriedly wiped his mouth. "Acquainted? We've worked together for nearly four years."
He cocked his head to one side. "Are we on good terms?"
"Why do you ask?"
"I'm curious. I'm trying to learn about a stranger."
Tony gave Gibbs a sideways glance. Any attempt to lead Tim around by the nose would not work. In any case, Tim looked frankly skeptical about anything he was learning now. For whatever reason, Tony would not try to lie. This Tim was as much a stranger to Tony as he was to himself.
"Generally, yes."
"What does that mean?"
"It means that we don't always get along. You're the probie, and that's how I treat you."
"How long does a probationary status last at NCIS? After three years, shouldn't I be beyond that?"
Tony actually found himself at a loss to explain why Tim was still a probie.
Tim looked away from the two men and lapsed into silence. He didn't speak during breakfast and the only sound he made was a small exclamation when he had to stand up. He refused any help from Gibbs and Tony even when he nearly fell after tripping over a tree root. As much as he wanted to believe that they were really his friends and colleagues, he had become overly paranoid during the last few days, and he couldn't just believe them.