Chapter 8

Ziva noticed the change in Tim as soon as they reached base camp. There was something missing from his face. She couldn't put a name to it unless she made up a word, which she generally avoided since she didn't seem to make up English words well. Tim was missing his essential McGee-ness, leaving someone suspicious and frightened behind. He looked at her as if assessing a complete stranger, and she found that she hated it.

"What is wrong with you, McGee?"

As he climbed gingerly out of the jeep, he looked at Ziva and asked another question. "Where are you from? You don't sound like an American."

"I'm from Israel, as you well know."

"Not right now, I don't," he said gruffly. "At least, you really exist."

Before she could ask what he meant by that, he limped by her, unerringly walking in the direction of the crash.

"Where are you going, McGee?" Gibbs asked. He'd been talking to Henson.

"I thought you said I wasn't a prisoner," he retorted.

"You're not."

"Then, leave me alone, Gibbs." Without another word he resumed his walk.

Ziva was shocked at Tim's lack of respect. She looked at Tony who just shrugged. She took a step after Tim.

Gibbs stopped her and said, "Let him go, Ziva. He needs to assimilate."

Ziva looked after him worriedly. "I don't like this, Gibbs."

"Neither do I, but I can't make him trust us. Right now, trust is the last thing on his mind. Give him some time."

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He heard the conversation going on behind him, but he didn't stop. This wasn't his regular attitude. He could tell by the look on Ziva's face. An Israeli. Gibbs had failed to mention that piece of information. The ranger had insisted on helping him into the jeep and had made him sit and get more bandaged up. He had to admit that after eating, drinking and not bleeding, he felt much better. If only his mind could be fixed so easily. He walked for about an hour and was surprised when he came upon the crash from his dreams.

"It's real," he said and began to walk around it. He heard someone clear their throat behind him and he spun quickly, then sucked in his breath at the sharp twinge in his chest. It was the one named Ziva. "What are you doing here?" he asked and then in suspicion, he added, "Why are you following me?"

"I thought you might like to have your wallet back," Ziva said simply. She held it out.

Warily, he approached her and took it. "Why?"

"It is yours, McGee."

For the first time, he softened. Only a little, but it was something. "Thanks."

She nodded and then left him alone in the clearing. Ziva didn't head back to camp, but let Tim have the illusion of solitude.

He looked at the wallet. This was something that was his. He opened it and hesitated before turning to the photo section. There weren't many and the ones in there had suffered some water damage. That girl from the lab was in his wallet!

"Why is there a picture of Abby in my wallet?" he asked himself. The pricking of a memory kept him from moving past it. "Sciuto. Abby Sciuto. She's a Goth and I got a tattoo for her." Even though he thought he was alone, he blushed when he realized where that tattoo was. He pieced together a few more bits of data. "Tony didn't think we could work. He was right in a way." Then, the memories slipped away again.

In frustration he kicked a nearby rock as hard as he could and shouted, "Why? Why can't I remember everything?"

Ziva watched him and winced in quiet sympathy as he wrapped an arm around his chest and sat down on a log.

He flipped through the rest of the pictures and saw little to tell him who these people were. He went back to his badge and ran his fingers over it. Somehow, this felt like the most important thing. He stared at it for a long time. A flash of memory washed over him.

Walking through the forest, he heard a sound, someone talking. He went toward it, thinking it was one of the rangers. The sudden clearing took him by surprise... as did the man standing by a stack of crates. It was hard to tell who was more surprised. Tim recovered first.

He took in the Navy seal on the crates, the guilty look on the man's face and pulled out his badge and gun. "NCIS, freeze!"

The man put his hands up immediately, but didn't look at all worried. Tim started to turn to see if anyone else was nearby and faced a gun pointed right at his head.

"I'll take that gun," the other man said, suiting actions to words.

The memory faded again. He tried desperately to follow it, but it was gone. One thing was clear from that memory, he realized, looking down at his badge again. He was Timothy, no Tim, McGee and he worked for NCIS. But the identity of all these other people was still in question. He sat on the log until dusk, thinking. Wishing that he could remember. He just didn't know who he was supposed to be. He felt like he couldn't react to anything because he didn't know how he was supposed to react.

He looked up when he heard someone entering the clearing. It was the Israeli, Ziva.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. He grimaced at the suspicion tone of the question. Would he ever get rid of this paranoia?

"I am worried about you, McGee."

Afraid to show his own fear to a total stranger, Tim asked, "Why?"

"Because what I am seeing is not the man I know. You look like McGee, but you do not act like him."

Tim stared at Ziva for a long time. Then, he dropped his head into his hands and said, "How should I be acting? I don't know what I should say or what I should do. The few things I've remembered are so scattered that I can't piece myself together."

"What do you remember, McGee?" Ziva approached him cautiously and sat down on the log.

"Nothing much. I saw you in a dream. I saw Gibbs and Tony and Abby, and then three other people named Ducky, Jimmy and Michelle. I saw them, but even though I know that there is something in my head about them, I don't know anything."

"You're a nice person, McGee. You were the first to really accept me when I started to work at NCIS."

Tim's head came up. "When was that?" he asked.

"Almost three years ago now."

"Why did you start working at NCIS?"

"That's a long story and most of it doesn't involve you."

"So, I didn't know before either?"

"No." It was said with finality; there was no invitation to question further.

"Why didn't people accept you before? Because you're from Israel?"

Ziva glared at him, but she saw only genuine confusion and softened her expression. "I took the place of Kate Todd. She..."

"She died. Someone killed her, shot her through the head," Tim finished. Then, he grimaced in frustration and smacked his own head. "Why can I only get these little pieces? Why can't I remember everything?"

"I do not know, McGee, but I do not think that you will find the answers out here."

Tim looked around. It was getting dark, and he knew for certain that he didn't want to spend another night in the forest. And yet... "This is all I know, Ziva."

Ziva stood and held out her hand to Tim. "You will remember, McGee, but until you do, do not be afraid to relearn."

Tim looked up at the proffered hand. He hesitated and then took it. He could tell how strong Ziva must be by the apparent lack of effort she expended while pulling him up. The painkillers had worn off now, and he let out a moan of pain.

"Sorry, McGee. I forgot about your injuries."

"That's okay. They're not life-threatening."

"I'm sure they are painful, yes?"

"That's true."

"Come, then." Before he could resist, she pulled him close enough to allow him to lean on her. They made faster progress that way. However, before they reached the campsite, Ziva pulled away.

When Tim looked at her in confusion, she said mischievously, "Do you not wish for Tony and Gibbs to think you fully capable?"

Tim smiled, the first real smile she'd seen. "Thank you, Ziva."

"What is the saying? Turnabout is fair play?"

"Yes, that's the saying." He paused as another piece floated to the surface. "You get those wrong quite often, don't you? Idioms, I mean."

Ziva grimaced good-naturedly. "Yes, I do."

Tim laughed a little, but his good mood faded noticeably when they reached the camp and he saw Gibbs and Tony seated at the fire. He had managed to make a new connection, or at least reforge an old one, with Ziva. These other two, however, he could not forget the air of danger that surrounded them in his dreams, as if they were with the other two men he'd seen. He recognized that it was only a dream, but according to Gibbs, some of his dream had reflected reality and in his current state, he couldn't tell which parts were real and which part were fake. The conversation ebbed when he sank gratefully onto a camp chair, and he couldn't think of a single thing to say to get it going again. They sat for a short time in silence and then scattered to their respective tents... except for Tim. He stayed, staring at the campfire long after everyone else was in bed.