Chapter 4
Tony walked into the bullpen feeling more than a little frustrated. Looking around all day for clues that just weren't there and then to come back to Vance saying that the FBI wasn't budging on taking over the Allen case. It wasn't settled yet, but the continual wrangling was irritating. Gibbs had already said that they'd still keep their eye on it and do what they could until the decision was made, but that wasn't enough for Tony.
He sat down at his desk and groaned.
"It is not that bad, Tony," Ziva said. "Vance is clearly not going to give in easily."
"We shouldn't have to give in at all!"
"I know, but we are still doing what we can."
"Yeah, I guess. Have you seen Tim today?"
"No. We were out before he came in."
"I'm going to go and look in on him. See if he has any ideas about dinner. We're not going home early tonight."
Ziva laughed. "That sounds like a good idea. Tell him that he really can choose. We will not question him this time."
"Yeah, right. Someone will always question, no matter who chooses."
"True."
Tony smiled and ran up the stairs and to Tim's office. The door was closed, as usual, but Tony just walked in, not really thinking about anything.
...until he saw what Tim was doing.
He was holding a gun to his own head.
"Tim! What are you doing?" he asked.
Tim jumped and looked at him, the gun still at his temple.
"Tony, what are you doing in here? Is it dinner already?"
"No! What are you doing? Put the gun down! Why do you even have a gun? What are you thinking?"
Tim looked at the gun and pulled it away from his temple.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
"What's wrong?" Tony repeated incredulously. "You're pointing a gun at your head and you're asking me what's wrong?"
"It's not loaded."
"So what! What are you doing?"
"Nothing," Tim said, started to sound a little heated.
Tony didn't notice. He was too afraid of what he'd seen to think.
"Why are you pointing a gun at yourself?"
"There's nothing wrong, Tony," Tim said. "The gun isn't loaded!"
"So? You say that like it matters!"
"It does matter! I wasn't trying to kill myself, Tony!" Tim said, getting to his feet.
"Then, what were you doing?"
"I was... It's just... It's nothing!" Tim said, getting louder and louder.
"You're not supposed to have a gun. You aren't a field agent anymore, remember? You don't even like guns! Why in the world would you even have it with you?"
"Tony, I..."
"Give it to me."
"No! No! This is my gun," Tim said. "You have no right to–"
"No right? Are you kidding?"
"Shut up, Tony!" Tim shouted. "Okay? Just shut up! I can't talk to you right now. I need a break and I'm going outside. Do not follow me. Don't talk to me. I'm really mad at you right now. So leave me alone."
Tim pushed past Tony and out of the room. He'd left the gun on his desk. Tony picked it up and let out a whoosh of air. Now that he was alone in the room, he could see that he'd done the thing that they couldn't do. He'd pushed Tim into a corner and he couldn't keep up enough to talk logically. Tony hadn't given him a chance and now, he felt really bad about it.
He sighed and looked at the gun. Then, he gave himself a slap on the back of the head and walked out of the office. He went back to the bullpen.
"Did Tim come through here?" he asked.
Ziva nodded.
"What happened? He would not speak to us."
"I messed up," Tony said.
"What happened?" Gibbs asked.
Tony held up the gun. Ziva raised an eyebrow.
"He was holding it to his head when I walked in there."
"What?"
"He was holding a gun to his head. It's not loaded. He said that he wasn't trying to kill himself, but...I panicked. I should probably apologize."
"Yeah," Gibbs said, "but let me go talk to him, first. Give me the gun."
Tony handed it over and watched as Gibbs went to the elevator and headed out after Tim. He shook his head and sat down at his desk.
"I am sorry, Tony."
"I'm more sorry. I completely overreacted. Tim might have been able to tell me what was going on if I'd let him, but I freaked out and pushed him too hard. You know how mad he gets when he can't think fast enough to explain."
Ziva nodded. It didn't happen much anymore...but then, they were generally more careful.
"I feel like such a jerk."
"You were afraid."
"Yeah. I was."
Ziva just nodded.
There wasn't much else to say, really. This was a shock, but until Tim explained himself, they really weren't going to understand it. Maybe they wouldn't anyway, but it would be better than them all getting mad at each other.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Gibbs walked out of the building and looked around. He didn't think Tim would go very far. He had a routine he followed and it would be a major departure from that if he left the Yard altogether.
There he was, pacing back and forth by the big cannon in Willard Park. Gibbs jogged across Sicard and over to Tim.
He saw Gibbs and shook his head.
"I don't want to talk to Tony right now," he said angrily.
"I'm not Tony, McGee."
"He wouldn't stop talking! He wouldn't let me think! He wouldn't give me a chance! I had to tell him to shut up, but then...I was so mad that I couldn't think anymore. So I came out here."
"That's fine," Gibbs said calmly.
Tim ran one hand back and forth along the cannon as he paced. He was thoroughly agitated, that was for sure. Gibbs hadn't seen him like this in a long time and he figured it would be better to let Tim get the nervous energy out before he tried to talk to him.
After a few minutes, Tim stopped and looked at Gibbs, seeming a little embarrassed.
"Hi, Boss," he said softly.
"Why don't you sit down," Gibbs suggested and sat on a bench.
Tim hesitated and then sat down, too.
They were both quiet for a few seconds. Then, Gibbs judged that it was the right time to ask. He pulled out the gun.
"You want to explain this?"
"It's my gun."
"How did you get it?"
"I faked a work order, took it to the armory and signed it out. I keep it in my desk."
Gibbs was at least happy that Tim wasn't trying to lie about it. He was actually quite matter-of-fact.
"Why?"
"Because it's mine. It's my gun that I got out, not anyone else's. It hadn't been reissued."
"But you're not using it. You don't even have permission to use it."
"I know. I don't use it. I don't have any bullets." Then, the energy was back. "Boss, I wasn't trying to kill myself! I mean...think about it! If I was going to do that, I wouldn't use a gun! I wouldn't be able to use a gun! I can't think when I'm holding one." He got to his feet and started pacing again.
Gibbs watched him for a moment.
"Tim?"
"What?"
"Have a seat."
Tim sat down, but he was antsy, fidgeting and ready to get up again if provoked.
"I'm not accusing you of anything. I just want to listen, okay?"
Tim took a deep breath. "Okay."
"If you're not planning on using it, then, why do you have it? Can you tell me that?"
Tim finally made eye contact...and he shook his head.
"I don't think I have the words to explain it, Boss. It's just what I have to do. It's not that I want to die. It's not that I want to have the gun just to have it. I need to have it with me. In my office."
"Why point at yourself?"
"Because it scares me...until I can't think."
"I don't get it, Tim," Gibbs said.
"I know. I can't explain it right. I know it's hard to get it when I can't really tell you what's going on, but...but my brain doesn't work like yours does, not anymore."
"It never did," Gibbs said wryly.
To his relief, Tim smiled. He was calm enough to be listening and getting the joke.
"But it really doesn't now. It makes perfect sense to me that I would need to have that gun and that I'd point it at my own head. I really don't know why it's a problem for you. I can't understand it, Boss. I don't know why you think it's wrong! Why Tony thinks it's wrong! I don't know! I just know that it makes sense to me...and if you take the gun away from me here, I'll find some other way to get one, but I'll have to have it at my apartment and I don't want to do that."
"Why not?"
"Because it scares me...and at home...there aren't people to keep me anchored...to keep me from falling off the edge of the world."
Gibbs remembered when Tim had talked about that before...back when he thought he was dead.
"You still feel that?"
"Sometimes. Mostly in the morning. Boss, I need to do this. I need to have that gun. I need to point it at myself. ...and I don't need bullets. I don't want bullets."
"Promise?"
"Yes," Tim said easily with no hedging.
"Okay."
Gibbs hesitated, but then, he gave the gun back to Tim.
"Keep it in your office and if we see any bullets..."
"I don't want bullets!" Tim said again and did seem afraid at the thought of the gun being loaded.
"Okay. Good. Now...you know Tony will want to apologize."
"I don't want to talk to him today. I'm still mad and I wouldn't be able to listen to him. I can talk to him tomorrow."
"What about your usual dinner?"
Tim shook his head.
"No. Things are too weird today. Abby said she'd give me a ride home, but if she's busy, I'll just take a taxi."
"No Metro?"
"No. Not today. I don't think I'd make it home."
"Okay. Tim?"
"Yeah?"
"Tell your psychiatrist about what you're doing, okay?"
Tim's brow furrowed in that all-too-common puzzlement. Some things that seemed so logical to bring up just weren't to Tim anymore. The desire to point a gun at oneself would be a logical thing to mention in therapy, but Tim didn't think about that at all. That was one of the reasons Gibbs and Ducky tried to keep tabs on Tim's mental processes. Then, they could tell him when things were important to bring up. It was also why Gibbs was so patient with Tim. He wanted to make sure that Tim felt he could talk about things and not hide them.
"Why?"
Gibbs smiled.
"Because you need to. He should know."
"But I won't be able to tell him any better than I can tell you. It'll just be confusing."
"He needs to know, Tim. Tell him."
"Okay."
"You ready to go inside yet?"
"No. I still feel mad at Tony."
"Okay. I'll go in and tell him. Just come inside when you're ready, okay?"
"Yeah, okay."
"Tim?"
"Yeah?"
"It's all right."
There was a little bit of confusion still, but he nodded. Gibbs got up and went back inside. These moments were when Tim seemed the most different to Gibbs. It was almost like explaining things to a child...a really smart child who just didn't quite get the subtle nuances of life yet. ...only it was questionable whether or not Tim ever would.
He walked into the bullpen and Tony looked up with a questioning glance.
"Where is he?"
"Still outside. He said he's still mad at you and he won't be ready to talk to you until tomorrow."
"Yeah. Makes sense. I feel like an idiot. I know what I'm supposed to do and I just...threw it all out the window."
"You can apologize to him tomorrow, but he won't talk to you when he comes in. ...and I let him keep the gun."
"You what?" Tony asked.
"Why, Gibbs?" Ziva asked. "Surely, it is not a good idea."
"I don't know if it is or not, but Tim said he needs it. He tried to explain it to me and he couldn't. I'd rather know he has it here unloaded than have to worry about his having one at home...loaded."
Ziva nodded reluctantly.
"He said no bullets?" Tony asked.
"Yeah. I believe him."
"Right...okay. ...and I'm sure he said no dinner, too."
"Yeah."
Tony looked at Ziva.
"Sorry."
"It is all right. We will survive one evening."
"You sure?"
"Yes. Positive."
Tim came into the bullpen, looked toward them and then walked to his office without speaking. Tony tried to act blase about it but he wasn't. Gibbs could see how bad he felt. The only good thing was that Tim likely would be over it by tomorrow. It just took some time for him to process things and then he'd be fine.
Tony looked at Gibbs for a moment, smiled weakly and then focused on his computer. Time to work.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Abby went up to see if Tim was ready to leave. She'd heard about what happened and, since she was likely to be at NCIS most of the night, she figured that Tim should definitely get a ride home with someone he wasn't irritated at.
She knocked on the door.
"Come in."
That was rare. Tim noticing the door. She opened it, and Tim's computer was already off. He was staring out the window.
"Tim?"
"Yeah?"
"You ready to go home?"
"Yeah."
He stood up and looked at her for a moment.
"They told you."
"Of course they did," Abby said with a smile. "Are you still mad at Tony?"
Tim just shrugged and grabbed his bag. They walked out of the office and out of the building. No one tried to talk to them. That was all to the good because on these days, Tim didn't like conversation.
They walked to Abby's car, but Tim seemed more distracted than usual and Abby had to keep her hand on his arm to keep him going in the right direction.
The drive to his place was silent. Tim wasn't staring at anything. His eyes were closed. When she pulled up to his apartment, Abby felt a twinge of concern.
"Tim?"
"Yeah?"
"We're here."
"Oh." He opened his eyes and looked up...and then at her. "Will you help me inside?"
"You think you won't make it?"
"I would...eventually, but..." He actually looked a little embarrassed. "Once I...I forgot to look at the numbers on the doors and I went to my neighbor's apartment instead of mine. She was nice about it, but she's looked at me weird ever since. I don't want to do that again...and things are just weird."
"Okay."
Abby got out and walked with him up to his apartment. As soon as she opened the door, Jethro was there leaping around excitedly. She was surprised to see Tim perk up a little bit as soon as Jethro jumped up on him. He smiled and hugged the German shepherd.
"Not outside tonight, Jethro. We'll have to wait until tomorrow morning."
"I'll take him out," Abby said.
"Thanks."
Abby quickly got Jethro's leash while Tim put his bag down walked to his bedroom. Jethro pulled Abby out of the apartment and she was surprised again when he didn't try to stay outside. He seemed eager to get back in. She was pulled just as enthusiastically inside as she had been outside.
When they got back to the apartment, Jethro zoomed into the bedroom as soon as Abby let him off the leash. She followed him and then stopped in the doorway and just watched with a smile.
Jethro was on Tim's bed, licking Tim's face with a little bit of a whine as he did. Tim allowed him and then buried his face in Jethro's fur and hugged the dog. Then, he pulled back and scratched Jethro's ears. The whine stopped and Jethro started panting contentedly with his eyes closed.
Tim looked happy right in that moment. Abby wasn't sure she'd seen Tim looking so happy since he'd been shot.
He looked up suddenly and smiled at her.
"You're in good hands," Abby said.
He nodded.
"We take care of each other," he said.
"All right. I've got to go back to work. You feeling better?"
"Yeah. I should be fine tomorrow."
"Okay. See you tomorrow, Tim."
"Bye."
Abby left, feeling better. Tim would be all right when he had Jethro with him.