Chapter 9

Over the next couple of days, Tim hovered on the brink. Dr. Zeeman wasn't sure which way he'd end up going. They identified the correct antibiotic and added it to the broad-spectrum antibiotics they'd been giving him, but Tim's heart rate and respiration continued to be irregular and his fever remained high as his body fought back against the infection. Tim's parents came and spent a lot of time with him, as would be expected. They had talked with Dr. Zeeman about getting Tim transferred to DC when he was stable enough to be moved.

Ducky and Jimmy visited when they could, but they had to give way to Tim's family, hard though it was to do so. Jimmy was relieved of duty while NCIS investigated what had happened, and Ducky was taking some extra time off himself. Gibbs, Tony and Ziva had to finish up the details of the case and so they hadn't been able to be there much either, although they'd tried to come when they could.

For his part, Tim didn't seem to notice. Even when he was conscious, he wasn't really very connected with reality. He had stopped thinking he needed to go back to the cabin, but beyond that, he hadn't demonstrated significant mental capacity.

It was a waiting game that seemed to get more and more nerve-wracking the longer it went on.

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

"Ah, Dr. Mallard, Mr. Palmer, you've just missed Timothy's parents," Dr. Zeeman said when Jimmy and Ducky arrived, late in the afternoon.

There was something different about him today. Jimmy looked at Ducky to see if maybe he had noticed it as well. Ducky smiled slightly.

"Is there something that's happened?" Ducky asked.

"Actually, yes."

"What is it?" Jimmy asked. This seemed like a positive thing, not a negative based on Dr. Zeeman's attitude.

"Timothy's fever broke about three o'clock this morning. The infection is finally being resolved...slowly, but we're much more optimistic that he'll make it. When he woke up this morning, he was actually coherent, albeit still quite slow. He's been sleeping most of the time, but he's starting to stabilize. You'll see a difference as soon as you go in."

"Is he awake?" Ducky asked.

"He may be, but I'm not sure. He's been in and out all day."

Jimmy felt the knot of worry in his stomach start to loosen a little. He looked at Ducky and saw a knowing smile on his lips. Ducky had insisted that Jimmy talk to someone even after his debriefing and official statement. It was helping a bit. Now, though, as they walked down the hall to Tim's room, Jimmy felt like there was something more he could look forward to. It was illogical perhaps, but he couldn't help thinking that if Tim survived, then maybe that would balance out the life he had inadvertently taken.

When they got into the ICU, Tim was lying quietly. There were still monitors, IVs, small beeps and clicks...but Tim himself was better. It was hard to pinpoint the exact difference, but there was something that was better. Jimmy sat down beside Ducky.

"Tim?" he said softly.

To his surprise, Tim's eyes opened. The lids were heavy, but Tim's eyes were mostly clear. His eyes wandered from Jimmy to Ducky and back again.

"Hey," he said, after a few seconds. There was a pause and then, Tim smiled. "Sorry...I'm...not quite myself."

Ducky smiled. "That's quite all right, lad. We're ecstatic to see you so much improved."

"This is improved?" Tim asked. "Not...quite sure how I feel about that."

"It's a lot better, Tim," Jimmy said. "You have no idea."

"I really don't," Tim said. "My memory is...pretty fuzzy. I remember...the tree." His eyes closed and he winced, whether in remembered or real pain. "Of all the ways I could have got into trouble in a forest...that didn't...even cross my mind. I remember being stuck in that room for a couple of days, but things get really...not clear after that." His brow furrowed. "What...were you doing there? ...you were there, weren't you?"

"We were," Ducky said.

"The car broke down when we were driving back from the conference," Jimmy said. "...and I got us lost."

Tim smiled and then he reached out and weakly patted Jimmy's arm. "I'm...really glad you did. From what my dad said...you guys saved my life."

"I don't know that we really..." Jimmy started.

"No. If I was so bad off that I don't even remember it...there's no way I could have done anything useful to save myself or anyone else." Tim swallowed hard. "Man...you two...you saved all of us. I have vague images of both of you, but I don't really know what was going on."

"We did our best, Timothy. It may not have been enough had help been delayed any further. I'm glad that it was enough."

"Me, too," Tim said.

"Me, three," Jimmy added quietly.

There was a minute or two of silence. It was almost as though Tim had fallen asleep again, but then, he looked at them both once more, his brow furrowed in confusion.

"Did something else happen?" Tim asked. "Did anyone else get hurt? I didn't...I didn't think I remembered that but..."

"No, no one else got hurt," Ducky said.

"I killed someone," Jimmy said almost at the same time, staring at his lap. "He was coming after you. You were delirious and you didn't know what you were doing. He was going to kill you or hurt you even more. I didn't know what to do. I grabbed a branch and ran into the room. I hit him on the head. Twice. It killed him."

Jimmy looked at Tim for a moment and was surprised when Tim started to struggle to sit up. He reached out to stop him...but Ducky just calmly helped Tim reach a more upright position, mostly with the aid of the adjustable bed. Once he was settled so that he could look Jimmy in the eye more easily, he winced a little and half-heartedly reached his hand out...before wincing again and letting it fall back to the bed.

"Jimmy?"

"What?"

"Thank you for doing that for me," Tim said. "I know how it feels to think you've killed someone. To know you've done it...I'm sorry that it was necessary."

Jimmy nodded. "...it was worth it."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."

Tim raised an eyebrow in his usual way. In spite of his pallor and his weakness, that was very...Tim.

"Most of the time," Jimmy said.

Tim nodded and then leaned his head back against the bed.

"Man, I'm tired."

"You've been through a lot, Timothy. That's allowed."

"If I've been sleeping all this time..."

"You haven't. Your body has been fighting off a serious infection, one that could have been fatal," Ducky said.

"Yeah."

Ducky smiled and patted Tim on the shoulder.

"It's quite all right to be tired easily right now, Timothy. You don't have to feel that we need to be entertained."

Tim suddenly opened his eyes and looked at them.

"Was I...entertaining when I was...delirious?"

Jimmy smiled, mostly because of the relief that Tim could ask that question...but Tim saw his smile and misinterpreted it.

"Oh...no...what did I do, Jimmy?"

"You weren't entertaining...so much as repetitive...and a little frustrating."

"How?"

"Well...you wouldn't listen to me when I told you to be quiet and stay put. I tried to explain things to you but you didn't get it. ...and once you were talking about flying and castles."

Tim flushed a little bit, giving him some much-needed color.

"I don't remember that."

"I'm not surprised," Jimmy said. "I didn't think you would."

Jimmy suddenly had a touch of whimsy that he didn't think he'd ever feel again. Tim was digesting what he'd already been told. He looked bothered by how much he'd lost in his memory and how close he'd come to dying.

"...and you probably don't remember the fact that we had to take off all your clothes."

"What?" Tim was looking more alert than he had since they'd seen him in the rain.

"You were soaking wet and injured, Timothy," Ducky said with a smile. "We couldn't leave you in your own clothes."

"We had to strip you," Jimmy added.

Tim looked totally embarrassed, but then, his exhaustion reasserted itself. Ducky helped him lay back and he fell asleep again. Ducky gestured to Jimmy and they left the room.

"Mr. Palmer, I may take back everything I've said about your bedside manner. That was excellently done."

Jimmy stopped in his tracks. "What do you mean?"

"You quite cleverly got Timothy's mind off how close he came to death. Instead of dwelling on how serious things were, you moved on to the fact that there was some degree of silliness in a frightening event. Timothy was embarrassed but he did not fall asleep worrying. He fell asleep knowing that he was safe. Well done."

"I didn't...know that was what I was doing."

"Nevertheless, your instincts were right on, Mr. Palmer. You did a good job."

"Thanks, Dr. Mallard. Is he going to be okay? Really."

"I think so. Dr. Zeeman was definitely optimistic. It's not definite, of course. This is never something that you can say with complete certainity, but Timothy was coherent. He was conscious. He was doing much better. Mr. Palmer, regardless of what happens next, you did not fail. You did nothing wrong. Your efforts likely led to Timothy's survival. You also were key in freeing Jethro, Ziva and Anthony. We worked together and we succeeded. Do you understand?"

Jimmy wasn't sure he'd ever seen Ducky so emphatic about something that wasn't case-related.

"Mr. Palmer, I told you before that the mind is a terrible to waste. More even than Timothy's mind could have been wasted in his throes of delirium, you will be wasting your mind if you choose to dwell on how things could have gone wrong. If you choose to dwell on all that happened that you regret...it will eat away at you. Guilt is not an emotion you want to dwell on. That is why I have been so insistent that you get help with it. I know the danger that lies in the pain of guilt. I don't want that for you."

Jimmy thought about it. There was so much truth to what Ducky was saying, and yet, at the same time, he knew that it wasn't going to be so easy. He'd never been involved in something like this before. It was not a feature of his life. ...but Tim had survived, in spite of what Jimmy saw as his fumbling his way through a difficult situation. He didn't want to think about the fact that a man had died...that he had killed a man, but he could also admit that there was little else he could have done. He looked at Ducky.

"Dr. Mallard?"

"Yes, lad?"

"If it's smaller than a bread box...and not alive...does it look like something alive?"

Ducky looked at him in confusion for just a moment...and then he smiled.

"Yes, it does."

Jimmy thought he might just know what Ducky had chosen.

"Is it made out of plastic?"

"It could be."

"Is it made out of rubber?"

"Yes. Often."

Jimmy smiled. "A rubber ducky?"

Ducky chuckled. "Correct. Well done."

Jimmy nodded. "I think I understand, Dr. Mallard."

"Good."