Chapter 15

"So how are you doing, Timothy?" Ducky asked after finishing yet another story.

"Okay," Tim lied, and coughed a few times. His throat ached from his near-strangulation.

"You don't sound 'okay,' if you don't mind my saying so."

Tim looked away again. "I don't mind."

"What is it?"

"I screw everything up, Ducky," Tim said hoarsely.

"How do you do that?"

"I can't do anything right. I couldn't get away. I couldn't even do what he wanted me to do. I couldn't think straight. I didn't try to delay. I tried the best I could, but it wasn't enough and he kept beating me. All I wanted was for it to stop. I couldn't even do that."

"You were being tortured, Timothy. You can't blame yourself for that."

Suddenly earnest, Tim turned back to Ducky and grabbed his arm. "You don't understand!" he said fiercely. "I wanted to help him. I would have done anything he asked and I didn't care that it was wrong! I-I only wanted it t-to stop." His voice was trembling and he was more angry at himself for the stammering than ever. "I-I c-can't even talk right. I-I'm weak, Ducky. That's the worst part."

"What is?"

"Everyone's being so nice and I don't deserve it. I keep expecting someone to give me a good kick and tell me to shape up."

"They would never do that to you, McGee."

"Yes, they would."

"Have they ever?"

"No. I just feel all mixed up in my head."

"That's to be expected under the circumstances."

"No. I don't want to see Tony or Ziva. I hate them."

Ducky waited for Tim to continue.

Tim shifted uncomfortably. His voice was confused."That is, I don't hate them, but when I see them I do. I can't keep straight in my mind what I think and what someone else put there."

"So do you really hate them?"

"I get mad at them all the time. They keep teasing me for my mistakes and it gets old."

"Do you hate them though?"

"No." Tim sighed and coughed again. "But I say that and then when they come in, I don't know anymore. All the things he said... they weren't new. I'd heard them all before but it was so much worse."

"Timothy, I want you to listen to me for a moment. Look at me, please."

Reluctantly, Tim looked back at Ducky. "Okay."

"This has been difficult for you, I can tell. I won't pretend to understand exactly how it felt because I've never had the experience. However, Tony and Ziva are a part of your team, just like Gibbs and Abby and myself. They tease you a lot, but no one worked harder than they did to get you back."

"But..."

"I'm not finished, Timothy. They act differently because they have a lifetime of different experiences. I know you know all this already. I want you to remember it, to internalize it and keep in mind that regardless of how they treat you on the surface, they still care. Do you understand me?"

"Yes." It was hesitant and uncertain, but the anger and frustration was fading, for now.

"Good. Now, did I ever tell you about the time I was lost in Germany?"

Sounding relieved at the change in subject, McGee smiled and said, "I don't think so."

"Good." As Ducky started telling the story, Tim laid back on his bed and drifted off to sleep. Gibbs and Tony stood in the doorway watching. Tony looked embarrassed, but no one said anything. Ducky came out a few minutes later. He looked at Gibbs, and Tony went in to stay with Tim while they talked.

"He's not doing so well, Jethro."

"I could tell."

"I'm encouraged by his awareness of the manipulation, but his confidence in his abilities is completely gone right now. I don't know why exactly, but he feels that everything he did during his capture was wrong. I'm not really a psychiatrist, Jethro. He should talk to someone who can actually help him there."

"We don't have the luxury of that right now. My focus has to be on keeping him alive. Robertson won't give up and Bourdan still won't talk. I also need to know what Robertson was asking McGee to do, but so far I haven't dared do that. As much as I hate to admit it, we need McGee to get back to work, sooner rather than later."

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Neither do I, but I can't think only of McGee. I need focus on the criminals as well."

"Well, don't lose sight of the victims. I'm going to head back home now, unless you need me still."

"No, thanks Ducky."

"Don't mention it." Gibbs handed Ducky a piece of paper. It was paranoid perhaps to do it like this, but after Robertson had managed to get into the hospital without getting caught, he was taking no chances. Ducky looked down at it and then nodded.

Gibbs walked back into the room. He looked at Tony. "Everything ready?" he asked.

"It's all set, boss. Abby and Ziva are ready."

"Good." He leaned over Tim and regretted the necessity of waking him up already. "McGee," he said softly. Tim didn't move. He shook him gently and Tim surged into consciousness ready to fight off his attacker. "Whoa! It's just me, McGee."

Breathing heavily, Tim tried to relax. "Sorry, boss."

"It's okay. We're moving you out now. Ready?"

"Now? What time is it?"

"Nearly five."

"Okay."

"You're going to have to walk. We'll help, but we don't want to attract attention."

In response, Tim swung his legs over the edge of the bed but paused when he looked at his hospital gown. "Can I get some clothes first?"

"Already done, McGee. I raided your apartment yesterday." Tony held out a stack of clothes. The look on Tim's face at seeing his own things was almost embarrassing. He seemed so happy to see something so simple.

"Thanks, Tony." He pulled on his pants, but when he tried to pull his shirt over his broken arm, he fumbled with the sleeve. Wordlessly, Tony reached over and helped him get the sleeve over his stitches. There was no cast because they had used a plate and screws to set the bones, but it was very sore and didn't operate very well. Tim blushed a little at his ineptitude, but Tony still didn't say anything. When Tim started to do the buttons up himself, Tony stepped back and walked to the window.

"Our ride's here, boss."

"Okay. Sorry, McGee, we don't have time to let you finish dressing yourself. Give me your shoes."

"I can do it, boss," Tim said while handing over his shoes.

"I know you can, but we're in a hurry. You just focus on buttoning your shirt. If Tony had been smart, he'd have grabbed a pullover or something simple."

Tim was embarrassed by having his boss dressing him, but he had to admit that he'd been wondering if he'd be able to even put on his shoes himself. He tried to stand, but felt so light-headed that he fell back on the bed. Gibbs stood and pulled him up, slinging his good arm over his shoulders. "Lean on me, if you need to, McGee, but don't expect me to hold you up if you collapse. You're a bit bigger than I am."

"Right."

"Ready to walk?"

"I think so." They set off at an ungainly pace, Tony striding next to them his gaze shifting to every corner of the hallway. Tim stumbled more than once causing Gibbs to slow down.

"Stairs or elevator, boss?"

"Stairs."

McGee thought weakly of having to go down all those stairs. "Boss, I don't know if I..." he trailed off, as much from exhaustion as embarrassment.

Gibbs looked at Tim's face. It was already pale and he was sweating with the effort of walking. He was gasping a little as well. He reconsidered. "Okay, elevator."

Tony pushed the button and they waited tensely. When the doors opened, Tony cleared them first, then gestured for Gibbs and Tim to walk in. Gibbs pushed the button for the second floor, rather than the first floor. When the elevator stopped there, Tony again walked out first. He cocked his head to tell them to step out.

Gibbs said, "Alright, Tim, you're going to have to go down one flight. Think you can manage it?"

"Yes," he answered. But as they slowly descended, Tim started wheezing with the effort of remaining upright. Gibbs looked at him with concern.

"Sorry, boss. I'm just out of breath."

"It's okay, McGee. We're almost there."

"Yeah. I'll make it," he gasped.

They got out of the building without incident and saw Ziva and Abby at a van. Gibbs forced Tim to quicken his pace as they headed to the van. Ziva got in the driver's seat and Abby helped Gibbs get Tim into the back seat. He fairly collapsed on the seat, gasping for breath.

"I think I'm a little out of shape," he said, smiling weakly.

"Just relax, Tim. Everything's under control now," Abby said.

"Who's driving?"

"Ziva."

He grimaced. "Then, I don't think we're under control."

"At least you're keeping your sense of humor," Abby said as the van started moving.

Tim just sighed and fell asleep in spite of Ziva's crazy driving. Abby's smile faded. She turned to Gibbs. "I don't think he looks too good."

"We just need to get him to a safe place. There are too many ways to get into and out of that hospital. He can get all the rest he needs once we're out of here."

The drive continued in silence. Tony and Gibbs kept watch for any possible tails while Abby kept Tim from being thrown out of his seat by Ziva's wild steering. They pulled up to Tim's apartment and Abby jumped out. In minutes she had grabbed Tim's bag, laptop and some extra clothes. Then, Ziva squealed out of the parking lot and they set out toward the safe house.

"How safe will this really be, Gibbs? I mean, won't he think of coming here?" Abby asked as they pulled up to Gibbs' house.

"I feel safer here. He can't surprise me here."

"The Iranians didn't find me when I stayed here," Ziva added.

"Okay. I'll bow to your greater experience."

McGee groaned and tried to sit up. "Where are we?"

"Gibbs' house."

"Why?" he asked, groggily.

"It's the safe house, McGee."

"Sure, okay." Then, he laid back down on the seat and was asleep before Abby could say anything else.

"Do you want to wake him up, Gibbs?"

"Do you want to carry him inside, Abby?"

She looked down at Tim. Even in his present state, he was taller and heavier than she could manage. She shook him, gently. "Tim, time to wake up. You need to help us get inside."

"We're at the safe house?" he asked, as if the entire previous conversation had never occurred.

"Yes, but we need to get inside the house."

"Come on, McGee," Tony said from outside the van. "Cut us some slack here."

"Sorry," Tim apologized. He sat up and tottered over to the door. He tried to step down and would have collapsed if Tony hadn't been there to catch him. "Sorry," he said again. "My legs aren't working right."

"That's alright McGee. Just help me out a little. I'm not looking to carry you across the threshold."

Tim straightened and nearly walked by himself although he needed Tony's help more than he wanted to admit. The pain had increased since he'd woken up in the hospital before, but he wasn't going to admit that if he didn't have to. The steps down into the basement loomed before his eyes and he sighed softly. Tony gave him a sideways glance. Tim looked about ready to cry at the sight of those stairs.

"You can lean on me a little more on the stairs, McGee. I'll take up the slack." Tim didn't answer except to increase the weight he put on Tony's shoulders. Slowly, they made it to the bottom and Tony helped him to the bed they'd set up down there. Tim collapsed onto the mattress and was asleep in seconds. While they'd been negotiating the stairs, Gibbs and Ziva had secured the perimeter and Abby gathered up everyone's stuff, complaining a little at becoming the pack horse. Then, they all settled in for the night, Ziva claiming first shift while the others slept.