Chapter 15

One week later...

Visiting Michelle was hard...but necessary. She appeared to have most of her mental faculties, but her physical abilities were going to take a long time to reclaim. She had graduated to the point of being able to talk..sort of. It required a measure of patience and an ability to interpret her soft whisperings. She could move her hands, but she had no dexterity. However, it seemed that Jimmy had shielded her not only in life, but in death as well. His body had protected her from the rubble that would surely have killed her had it hit her directly. That knowledge was hard for her to accept. Her parents had wanted to move her back to their home in New York to care for her themselves, but she had refused, wanting to stay in DC instead. It was her home now. It was where Jimmy had been. It was her life.

Now, Tim walked toward her room. She would be transferred to a nursing home for full-time care soon, and then it would take more effort to visit her. It was hard enough already. Tim hadn't been able to talk to her by himself until just the last few days. For some reason, today, he had wanted to go. It wasn't out of a need to prove himself or a desire to keep her from feeling alone. He wanted to be there.

"You keep telling yourself that, Tim," he muttered to himself. "Maybe you'll actually believe it someday."

Tim knocked politely before opening the door. Michelle was sitting up today, alone for the moment. That was rare because her parents were usually around.

"Hey, Michelle, enjoying the peace and quiet?" Tim asked.

A lopsided smile appeared on Michelle's face and she shook her head marginally.

"Do you mind some company?"

Again, she shook her head.

"I went to NCIS today. They're finally making some progress on getting all the...rubble cleared away. Vance is trying to get us back up to full force, but he also has to find places to put everyone...and some of the survivors aren't coming back."

Michelle's face twisted and she spoke for the first time. "I...misshim," she whispered, looking at the ring on her finger.

Tim had to bite his lip in order to keep himself composed. "I miss them all."

She nodded and her eyes traveled to the package, small but fairly heavy, that lay on her table.

"When are you going to see what Ziva left you?" Tim asked.

"When...cando...itmyelf," Michelle answered.

"I'll help you. I'll hold it for you."

Now, Michelle smiled. "You..juswanna...know...wha...itis."

Tim smiled back. "Of course, I do. I'm curious...but maybe it will help."

"Who?" Michelle asked with her usual perspicacity.

Tim looked at his hands...the bandages were gone now, and he could see the thin scars that covered them from the flying glass...but he could use his own hands.

"Maybe it's for me...but I'd like to think it would help you, too."

Michelle looked at the package again and then nodded. Tim picked it up and held it out to her, near her right hand which was working better than her left. She clumsily lifted her hand and managed to maneuver her fingers beneath the flap. She ran her hand back and forth under it and Tim shifted the package around so that she could get all the tape dislodged. After a minute or two, there was an envelope...and a knife lying in Michelle's lap.

"Do you want me to read the letter to you?"

She nodded.

Tim pulled it out and nearly cried when he saw Ziva's neat writing...so precise...and so brief. He cleared his throat.

"'To Agent Michelle Lee, I leave one of my throwing knives. On the day of our disastrous knife-throwing practice, you ended up throwing your knife backwards. Obviously, that is not where it was supposed to go, but you still managed to hit a target. Perhaps, you are not meant to have the obvious target, just the one that is right for you. ...but you should still make sure you are able to hit the one in front of you."

With her weak hands, Michelle reached out and tried to grasp the hilt of the knife. It was long and slender, perfectly-balanced...with a couple of nicks in the blade. It was Ziva's. She had used it. Michelle had no strength to lift it, but her hand did close around it.

"I hate...thisss," she said.

"Me, too."

She looked at him. "You...gonna...quitoo?"

Tim was quiet for a few seconds before shrugging. "I don't know. Some days, all I want to do is run away from all this. Other days, I know I can't. It would be like running away from my life."

The hand released the knife and weakly moved to Tim's arm. "If...I...cando...it...you can."

"You're stronger than I am, Michelle."

She smiled and shook her head. "No...jusstubborn."

Tim chuckled a little. "How much longer before you're moved?"

"Three...das."

"We'll have to schedule another Scrabble match."

"Yes."

Tim stood to go, but then stopped and looked down at Michelle. She was so small, almost like a child, but she did have quite the stubborn streak.

"I'm so glad you lived, Michelle. I thought I watched you die."

"I...couldn...leave." She lifted her arms briefly and Tim nodded at the request, leaning down and gathering her limp body into a brief hug. She couldn't really return it yet, but maybe someday...

Tim let her go and gently lay her back down on the bed. Then, he bade her good-bye and left the room. In the hall, he had to wipe his eyes. He still hadn't seen Abby today. It was getting even harder to go to her room because she just wasn't waking up, and Tim was beginning to lose hope that she ever would. Even though the doctors kept saying that she was more responsive, Tim just couldn't see it...but Ducky had told him he needed to keep telling Abby about the beautiful things in his life. Some days, it was hard. Some days, it was easier...but at no time did he really think she could hear him. If Abby could hear what he was saying, there was no way she'd stay asleep like this. Abby cared too much about people to listen to their pleas without reacting. Tim knew that everyone had asked her to wake up. He'd heard them. So...Abby couldn't hear him when he told her about Yellowstone or about Minnesota or about a dream he'd once had. She couldn't hear any of it. He was really just talking to himself.

"Let's get this over with," he said to himself and set off for Abby's bedside.

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

"This is so stupid, Ducky," Tony muttered as he pushed the walker around Gibbs' house. "I'm a young strapping guy, not an old grandpa. I shouldn't be using a walker!"

"Well, the more you use it now, the less you will have to later on," Ducky said, smiling as Tony worked on breaking the speed record for walker wielders.

"Where's Gibbs?"

"Escaping from your complaining, I believe he said."

"He actually went to work?" Tony asked. Ducky nodded. "Wow. I thought he'd refused to ever step foot in the office at Norfolk."

"I think the idleness is wearing on him."

"It's wearing on me, too, Ducky." Tony got himself to the couch and nearly collapsed. "McGee only comes over here when you make him. He only goes home when the hospital forces him to leave...and even then, he's as likely to go to the Yard...to stare at the rubble, I guess, as he is to go anywhere else. I'm getting very bored. All I get to do is go to the hospital, do my physical therapy and come back here, with a stopoff to see Abby and to see Lee. Do you realize how much time I have on my hands?"

Ducky nodded. "I do, Tony. I have done my best. I cannot, nor do I wish to force Timothy to do anything. He seems better this week, although I'm not certain as to the reason...but I do believe that he is still operating on autopilot rather than really living."

"Yeah, so do I...and it sucks, Ducky."

"Yes, I do believe it does...suck, Tony."

Tony suppressed a smile. "I don't think I've ever heard you say that word before, Ducky. It sounds...weird when you say it."

"It is a strange use of the word, but I would be willing to bet that it has a twentieth-century derivation."

"I don't know, Ducky, and I'm fairly certain I wouldn't be any happier if I knew the derivation."

"More than likely not. I probably would not be any happier either."

The smile faded from Tony's face and he sighed, looking at the walker. "What are we going to do, Ducky?"

"About what?"

"Everything."

"That's a very large question. I'm gratified that you have so much confidence in my intelligence, but not even I would presume to–"

"All this, Ducky," Tony said. "We lost more than a building. I think...I think we all lost...and I know this is going to sound schmaltzy, but we all lost a bit of our souls when the building collapsed. All of us. McGee is just more obvious about it."

"You're right, Tony. I wish I did know what to do about all this, but I don't. Like you, I am simply living one day at a time and hoping."

"I don't think we would have made it without you, Ducky."

Ducky actually blushed a little and looked out the French doors. "We haven't made it yet, Tony."

"But I think we will...because we have you. Even Gibbs...although I know he won't admit it...even he needs you."

"We all need each other, Tony. Don't forget that. All of us need...all of us."

"I think McGee's forgotten that."

"Or he's forgotten that he is included in the all." Ducky sighed. "I know he is going to therapy and I know he is better, but he is not well...not at all."

"Ducky..." Tony now looked uncomfortable.

"What?"

"I should have told you...or told Gibbs before, but I kept hoping that he would take it back...but he hasn't been back since he gave it to me."

"What are you talking about, Tony?"

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

Tim sat beside Abby, holding her hand, not speaking yet. He was running out of things to say. She still looked so empty...and pale, even for her. Tim smiled at the thought of Abby being too pale.

"I had a dream, Abby."

No response.

"It was a beautiful dream." Tim wasn't looking at her now. "I dreamt that I woke up and went to work. I dreamt that Ziva was still alive, that NCIS wasn't just a hole in the ground...and I think it was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen...but even in my dream, I knew it wasn't real. I wish it wasn't a dream." Tim took a flower out of his bag. It was in a protective package and now, he opened it and smelled the scent...it wasn't strong, but it was the smell of something living. It was a strange-looking flower at first glance, something along the lines of a psychotic cotton ball, akin to dandelion cotton. Closer examination revealed dozens of tiny metallic-pink blooms, shaped almost like stars, tightly-clustered together.

"I found this the other day. It's called Stars of Persia. I think it's beautiful. Strange and beautiful at the same time...just like you, Abby. I know you can't see it, can't hear me talking, won't even know that it's here, but I figured that while I'm continuing to engage in exercises of futility, I'd bring you something instead of just telling you about it."

Tim gently released Abby's hand, laid it carefully on her chest, palm up, and then, set the small flowers in her hand. He kissed her forehead as he stood up.

"Bye, Abby."

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

"He gave you Ziva's necklace?" Ducky asked, aghast as he looked at the battered jewelry in his hand, the single star bent and blackened.

"He said he didn't feel right having it, that it was wrong for Ziva to have left it to him."

"And you accepted it?"

"No!" Tony said instantly. "No, I kept telling him that Ziva wanted him to have it, that she knew what she was doing, but McGee wouldn't listen to me. I thought he had, but when he left, I found it on the table. I figured I'd just make him take it the next time I saw him, but, honestly, I haven't seen him since then. I think he's avoiding me because he knows that I'm going to give it back."

"Oh, dear. When was this?"

"Earlier this week. Ducky...do you think that–?"

"I sincerely hope not, Tony."

Tony looked guilty. "I swear, Ducky. I swear I was going to give it back to him! That's the only reason I didn't tell you all right away. I thought I could give it back and talk, but I just didn't see him. He wouldn't answer his phone and..."

Ducky put a hand on Tony's arm to stop his words. "I don't blame you, dear boy. Goodness knows there's enough self-blame flying around right now. No, I think I had better search for him."

"I'm coming with you."

"Tony..."

"Ducky, you said that we all need each other." Tony's walls had been truly breached by the bombs and the loss of so many friends, but he still hesitated to express his feeling. "...and...and I need McGee. I can't lose him, too, not after...not after losing Ziva. I've lost too many teammates, Ducky. I'm not going to add McGee to the list. ...and I'm not going to sit here wondering if McGee really is...I'm not, Ducky."

"Very well. Come along." Ducky stood, pausing only to grab his phone and make sure that Tony was sturdy enough to follow along with his walker. Once they were settled in...Tony's car since Ducky's car would not be good for searching or high-speed chases...Ducky said, "Call Gibbs. He will wish to know as well."

"Right." Tony pulled out his own phone. "Gibbs?"

"What, Tony?"

"I hope you're not really in Norfolk, because Ducky and I think there's a problem."

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

Tim walked to his car, but the sight of it sickened him. It only reminded him of the fact that, even though so many people had died, his car had survived without a scratch. What he had said to Michelle was right. He could only run away by leaving his life behind...