Chapter 16
It was almost midnight. Tim was back on the patio. He hardly knew how he'd gotten there or even to this point. He was sitting on the steps staring at the gun in his hand. He didn't think Gibbs was even aware he'd picked it up at his apartment. Tim had almost forgotten himself until he'd seen it in his bag an hour earlier. He had stared at it as the significance hit him with the force of revelation. It was such a part of his routine. He'd even picked up his badge. A sad, empty laugh escaped his lips, sounding more like moan. He was supposed to protect people, not kill them.
Of all the horrible things he'd seen and heard during this day, the one that still stood out most to him was what the man had said to him: He was the one who had to choose who lived and who died. He'd chosen all right. That nurse, Julie, she was right, as was the police officer at the crash site. He, Timothy McGee, was the one who deserved to die. The crash was his fault. That little girl had done nothing wrong, nothing deserving of death. Her mother didn't deserve her injuries. The college student had probably been thinking of nothing more than how wonderful his fiancé was, how exciting it would be to be married. Then, in an instant, his life was over, the girl he loved, in a coma. A couple who had been looking for memories, not pain. That man had planned on killing one person, three total, if Tim had been right. Tim had planned on killing only one, maybe two. At least, he could kill the one person still alive who deserved death.
Suicide... it seemed like the coward's way out, dishonorable, but on the other hand, he deserved nothing better. He thought of the families who had to deal with the losses. If he was dead, they would be able to move on. Justice would be served. Tim flicked off the safety and brought the gun to his head. He was furious with himself when he felt his own hand shaking, betraying his nervousness. He closed his eyes and tightened his finger on the trigger.