Chapter 20

Two weeks later...

"Here's the list of everything I've covered so far, organized by class...um...the...problem spots...equipment I think might be useful for future courses, a list of the students who are genuinely interested in the material...and..."

"Agent McGee, you're going to drown me in paper! Calm down for a second. I've only been back for an hour!" Aimee protested, but she was smiling.

"Sorry," Tim said, blushing. "I just didn't want to forget anything or leave you in chaos...and I'm flying out tomorrow."

"How are you doing?"

Tim smiled. "I'm not that obvious, am I?"

"Only to the people who have seen you in many different guises. I remember you from when you attended FLETC, and I remember you three months ago when you came to take over from me. You've been different every time, and now I just am curious."

"I'm..." Tim shrugged. "I don't know how I am. Alive and kicking, which is saying something."

"Yeah, it is. You may have been alive before, but you sure weren't kicking."

"No, I wasn't." ...and who knows how I'll be tomorrow?

"So...this is everything?"

"Yeah. That should be it."

"You tempted to stay and be a permanent instructor?"

"No!"

Aimee laughed. "That bad?"

"No, but I'm not cut out to be a teacher. I'm better working than I am teaching...not that teaching is not work...because it is...it really is."

"I know what you meant, Agent McGee." Aimee bent over the piles of files and notes Tim had given her and then looked up. "Why don't you join my husband and I for dinner tonight? That way I can pick your brain if I need to, and you get one free meal...that isn't from the cafeteria."

Tim hesitated and then smiled. "Okay."

"Great! I'll pick you up at that measly little apartment they gave you at 6:30. Be ready."

"I will."

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

"What time does your flight get in, Tim?" Abby asked eagerly.

"Around four, I think. I have a layover in Atlanta, but I'll be back in DC by the afternoon."

"I'm so glad! We've missed you, Tim! I've missed you."

"I've missed you, too."

"Have you really?"

"Of course!"

"You've never said it before," Abby said quietly. "Not once in all the time you've been gone. I was beginning to wonder if you'd change your mind and never come back."

"I couldn't do that, Abby," Tim said. "I mean that. I really couldn't. I'm coming back tomorrow...and I can't wait to see you all again."

"I'm glad, Tim. I thought that...that you wouldn't be able to..."

Tim hesitated...for too long.

"Do you think that, too? Tim?"

"I think it's a possibility."

"Then, why are you risking it?"

"Because...I can't spend my life hiding, Abby. I have to see if I really can...I don't know."

"What if you can't?"

Tim didn't answer.

"No, Tim!"

"I'll see you tomorrow, Abby. I'm looking forward to it."

"Tim?"

"Tomorrow, Abbs."

"Bye, Tim."

"Bye, Abby." Tim hung up and smiled a little to himself. He wondered how long it would be until someone else called. Abby wouldn't keep that to herself. She wouldn't be able to. He focused on packing his things. There wasn't much to pack, just like there hadn't been when he'd first come. He was finished quickly and then...all that remained was to wait...and he didn't want to wait in here. Actually, he didn't want to wait at all...and why should he? He didn't have to.

He pulled out his phone and dialed. "Hi, Aimee...no, I didn't have anything, but I wanted to ask a favor. Could you give me a ride?"

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

"You sure about this, Agent McGee? That's a long drive."

"I know, but I'll be fine," Tim said as he got out of the car. "Thanks for the ride."

"Why aren't you just waiting for the plane?"

Tim smiled ruefully. "Call a gut feeling. I just need to go...and I need to drive."

"Okay...whatever." She smiled. "Good luck, Agent McGee."

"Thanks. I think I'll need it. Good luck with getting back to work."

She rolled her eyes. "I know I'll need it."

Tim shouldered his bag and grasped his luggage and went into the rent-a-car place. In ten minutes, he was on his way north.

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

His phone rang at around eleven. He had left a message for Ducky, knowing that Ducky would be the least likely to freak out about Tim suddenly jumping in a car and driving from Georgia to DC overnight.

It was Ducky.

"Hi, Ducky."

"Timothy, may I ask what possessed you to forgo the plane and drive yourself home?"

"Only if you don't expect a real answer. I just didn't want to wait anymore, Ducky."

"You couldn't wait twelve hours?"

"I could have, but I didn't want to." Tim tried to explain the unexplainable. "It's like...like I've been waiting for something to happen ever since...ever since NCIS was destroyed." Tim looked at the rear view mirror, at Ziva's necklace which he had hung there as a kind of talisman. "It's like when Gibbs forced me to take back Ziva's necklace. I could have just let him drop it into my hand, but he made me take it. I'm coming back, Ducky...and it needs to be me going back, not a plane that I happen to be on."

"I'm not sure I understand, Timothy, but if you're sure."

"I am."

"Then, I want you to promise me that you'll take extra care and pull over if you feel drowsy. I don't want to have you die in an accident just before we get to see you...unless that's your intention."

"It's not. I promise. I'll pull over if I need to, but I feel really awake, Ducky."

"Well, that's one worry removed, but you managed to disturb Abigail's peace of mind."

"I know. I hadn't intended to, but I figured it's probably better that she's aware...of the possibility."

"Timothy, how likely do you think it is?" Ducky's voice was now as concerned as Abby's had been.

"I feel better, Ducky...a lot better...but I don't know if that's because I actually am better. I'm afraid that I'm wrong, that I shouldn't have had the hope that it would work."

"That sounds rather ominous."

Tim laughed a little. "I know, but, Ducky, don't you see the difference? This time I think that there's a chance. I didn't before. When I left...all I was doing was running, putting off what I saw as inevitable. I really thought that I'd end up dying anyway. Now..." Tim's gaze shifted briefly to Ziva's necklace again. "...now, there's a chance that I'm better...not all the way. I know I'm not, but if I can go the Yard and not feel that...I don't even know how to explain it to you, how I felt when I went there...but if all I feel is grief? Then, I'm better."

Ducky was silent for nearly a minute. "So, you will be going to the Yard, then, I take it?"

"Yes. That will be my first stop."

Ducky sighed.

"Isn't it better to know right away?"

"What if you're wrong, Timothy? Will you really do that?"

Tim hesitated. "Something will happen, Ducky. Sometimes, death really is a good thing...but don't worry. Think positively." Tim laughed again.

"You definitely sound better, Timothy, but I wouldn't put it past you to be delirious with exhaustion."

"I'm not. I got plenty of sleep last night."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes. ...and Ducky? Please, don't tell anyone else that I'm coming now."

"That's asking a lot, Timothy."

"I need to visit the Yard alone the first time. ...you can tell Gibbs if you must, but no one else."

"Why Gibbs?"

This was something that didn't need to be shared. "Let's just say that I've had time to think and I've realized some things. That was the reason for me coming down here, wasn't it? I didn't see it that way when I left, but it wasn't just so I could get some good teaching experience." Tim took a breath. "If anyone can be there...Gibbs is the one."

"Very well. I shall keep your secret."

"They don't expect me until four anyway."

"That is true. I would not wish to disturb their slumber."

Tim smiled. "Now, I should probably play the responsible citizen and hang up. Driving while talking is a distraction."

Finally, Ducky chuckled. "That is true. Drive safely, Timothy."

"I will, Ducky. Bye." Tim hung up and continued on his way. Occasionally, he'd reach up and touch the dangling star. He didn't listen to any music, didn't do much thinking. He just drove. At around three, he pulled off in a farming area of North Carolina and took a nap for an hour. Then, he woke up and continued. Moderately rested, Tim's mind started working again...especially as DC got closer. His confidence was ebbing as his mind began to dwell on the horror he had experienced. He still had nightmares. Shouldn't those be fading by now? He cried occasionally. That wasn't normal was it? What would Gibbs say? Tim had no doubt that Ducky would indeed call Gibbs and tell him about their conversation. What he didn't know was how he'd manage to explain without making it seem as though what had happened was Gibbs' fault. He didn't blame Gibbs for this, but he figured that how he felt should be...known.

He just didn't want to hurt anyone. There was enough hurt going around. He had enough still and he didn't need to share it with anyone else.

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

The eastern sky began to brighten and the traffic increased. Tim grimaced when he realized that he hadn't taken rush hour into account when he had left Georgia. Oops. By the time he reached Springfield, traffic had slowed to a crawl. I-95 turned into the Henry Shirley Memorial Highway, and Tim wondered, for probably the first time ever, who Henry Shirley was and why he had a highway named after him. It took 45 minutes before he reached the gates of the Washington Navy Yard. He hadn't seen it in three months...not in the waking world anyway. All his doubts, his fears seemed to double in intensity as he drove onto the Yard. He took a deep breath and urged himself to keep going forward. The parking lot was nearly full, but he found a space and parked. He shivered as he got out. He had forgotten that it would be cold up here. Not only cold but snowy.

Of all the things for me to forget, Tim thought wryly and dug into his luggage for an extra jacket. Two layers, plus his gloves...that should be enough. Slowly, he closed the door and walked to his place in Willard Park. Then, he screwed up his courage to look toward the place where NCIS had been.

Silence...

Tim stared and wondered what he had expected. He sank down onto the bench, feeling a rising tension in his chest...but he couldn't identify it. It wasn't the same as he had felt before but it was a lot stronger than he had expected it to be. NCIS wasn't even rubble anymore. It was a hole in the ground...with a couple of supports being put up on the corners. That was all. Tim leaned forward, rubbing his hands together. He looked at it and then down at the ground and then up again. Maybe it was just that he was tired, but time slid away meaninglessly as he stared and tried to understand what he was feeling.

Then, he was aware of the sound of crunching snow. He looked up briefly and saw Gibbs walking toward him. He smiled (and was surprised that his lips would make that motion) and then looked back at the empty space. Gibbs sat down beside him, facing the site. Wordlessly, he held out a cup of coffee. Tim took it without speaking. As he sipped at it, he was grateful for Gibbs' kindness...and it goaded him into speaking. They didn't look at each other. Eye contact was not required.

"I was mad at you...for leaving me alone, for letting me think everyone had died."

"That doesn't surprise me."

"Then, when I came back and saw what had happened, I decided that I deserved it, that there must be something I had done that had created the situation I was in and I should be punished for it."

"You were wrong."

"I know that...now. Then, I didn't even know that's what I was feeling. I couldn't have explained it to anyone. All I knew was the pain and...my emotional self-mutilation. I used the pain to cover up how angry I was because I didn't feel that I was allowed to be angry."

"Would punching me out have helped?"

Tim smiled into his coffee cup. "Probably not."

"And now?"

"I'm not angry anymore. It wasn't your fault that I fell apart...anymore that it was my fault NCIS was destroyed."

"It wasn't destroyed, McGee."

Tim was surprised enough to almost turn but then he stopped and looked back at the ground. "What do you mean?"

"The building was destroyed...obviously. NCIS wasn't. NCIS isn't just a building. The only way NCIS could have been destroyed is if every person who works under its authority died...and that didn't happen."

Tim took a deep breath as if he had felt a sudden pain and let it out slowly.

"A lot of people died...people who shouldn't have, who didn't deserve it, but not all. We can rebuild a building. If the spirit is destroyed, that's much harder to get back."

"Mine was," Tim whispered. He had to whisper because he couldn't get breath enough for more.

"No. It wasn't. It was certainly damaged, but you wouldn't be here if it was destroyed."

"I shouldn't have been so angry."

"Yes, you should have. I abandoned you." Gibbs laughed cynically. "In favor of standing death watch. I could scarcely blame you for doing the same. You're not the only one who's had time to think, McGee. I wish you had just been angry at me. Maybe it would have saved you some of this."

"Maybe...but it doesn't really matter. I just wish I could figure out how I feel now. It's not the same."

"Maybe you're wishing you'd stayed in balmy Georgia."

Tim laughed but the laugh became saturated with tears. Tim had cried a lot in the last few months, ever since NCIS headquarters had blown up...but these tears were different. Just as he felt different, so also were the tears different. He couldn't speak...and Gibbs didn't say a word...but he didn't leave either. He had only left once, Tim realized, just that one time. Everyone who could had been there in all the days and weeks that followed. Even Tim had done his best to be there...and his leaving had been a way of staying as well. That one time had hurt, but there was something to be said for Gibbs' insistence on being there every other time. Something had to be said for that. Choking back the tears, Tim said it.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For this."

"Have you figured out what's different this time?" Gibbs' voice was rather didactic, but Tim didn't mind.

"Yeah. I have."

"What is it?"

"This time I can...I know I can make it."

Now, Gibbs pulled Tim into a one-armed embrace. The tears still fell, but they were the tears of someone who was grieving...in the right way...missing those who had died.

"We've all known you could, McGee."

"But I didn't."

"Yeah."

"I miss them, Jimmy, Lara, Jonathan, Cynthia. I miss them all." Tim jammed his hand into his pocket and pulled out the necklace. "I miss Ziva."

"I do, too," Gibbs answered. He pulled an old postcard out of his pocket.

Tim sat up straight again and looked at it. The writing on it was Hebrew. "What does it say?"

"'Blessed are You, Lord, our God, King of the Universe, the True Judge.'"

"Why?"

"It was Ari's way of acknowledging the loss of Tali."

"Why do you think Ziva kept it?"

"I don't know."

"Why did she give that to you?"

Gibbs smiled. "Because she knew I'd understand."

Tim understood that he wasn't going to be told...and he looked at the hole in the ground again...and shivered.

"You cold, McGee?"

"Yeah."

"Then, come on. You can warm up before everyone expects you at four."

"Oh...I should probably tell them I came back."

"Looking like you do right now? They'll probably lock you up."

Tim looked down at himself. "What do you mean?"

"You look like crap, McGee."

"Oh." Tim sniffed once. "I guess I should get a few hours sleep. I'll just drop off the rental and..."

"You can sleep at my place."

"What?"

"Your apartment's been closed up for three months, McGee." Gibbs stood up and smiled. "I'm not asking you to move in. I had enough of Tony in my house. Just crash on the couch. You know that no one will let you sleep until late tonight."

"Yeah," Tim agreed, smiling until he remembered some important people who wouldn't be there and his mouth twisted.

"You can miss them, McGee. Just don't let that rule your life."

"I know."

"Come on." Gibbs slung an arm around Tim's shoulders and directed him out of the park.

Tim only looked back once...and for just a moment, he thought he saw a shadow of the old building...and maybe some people standing in front of it.

He smiled.