Chapter 5
"They're with him too much. This isn't going to work," Chayce said. "Every time he goes outside, his dog is with him. They took him back from work last night. It's not going to work."
"It'll work," Mike said calmly. "All we need is one night when he's by himself and that happens more often than it doesn't. We're all set up. The decision hasn't been made yet, and we have time."
"How long will they put off the decision, though? NCIS isn't going to back off."
"Long enough."
"How long?"
"If we take him once and get information, we can show what we've got and that will change things. All we have to be is first."
"I don't like this."
"I know. The next time he comes home, if he's alone, we take him. Got it?"
"Yes," Chayce said, reluctantly. "This had better be worth it. If we're caught..."
"We won't be."
"You always say that."
"Because I'm right."
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Tim woke up feeling as normal as he ever did. He got ready for his day following his same routine. Jethro was feeling frisky and took Tim a little further than usual, but he still led him back as usual. Tim trusted the German shepherd to do what was necessary to keep him safe on the sidewalks.
They got inside and Tim went through his routine. He checked for his badge, his keys and his wallet and then walked to the door. He opened it and fell back in surprise.
"Tony! What are you doing here?" he asked.
"I was wondering if I could give you a ride to work," Tony said, looking sheepish. "If you don't want to, that's fine."
Tim knew that this meant Tony was going to apologize. Was he ready to revisit that? He thought about it for a few seconds. Tony let him.
"Sure. Okay." Tim turned back and petted Jethro gently. "See you tonight, Jethro."
Then, he looked at Tony.
"I don't want to be late. Some people notice when I'm late."
"You won't be. I promise...well, I promise as long as the traffic doesn't work against me."
Tim smiled and nodded. He felt for his badge, his keys and his wallet again and then followed Tony out. They walked down the stairs and got in the car.
"You're going to apologize, aren't you."
"If you're ready for that," Tony said.
Tim looked at Tony for a few seconds. Sometimes, he couldn't help wondering how different things had been before. He had the memories, but the emotions behind those memories, the feelings, how he had perceived everything before...all that wasn't clear. He could only go on what felt natural to him now. He did know, however, that Tony wouldn't have asked permission to apologize before.
"I'm ready."
"And I'm sorry, Tim. I know that I need to give you time to think and...and process everything, but I got scared."
"But why?" Tim asked. "I told you there were no bullets in the gun. You know that I can't handle shooting one. It turns my brain off. I can't think when I shoot a gun. Why would you get scared just because you saw me holding one?"
"Because, Tim, you were pointing it at yourself. That's against gun safety rules, for one thing."
Tim smiled. "But the rules aren't why you were scared. Did you really think I would kill myself?"
"Maybe."
Tim looked out the windshield.
"Would you?" Tony asked.
Tim thought about it.
"Maybe...but not now."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean...if I was going to kill myself, it would have been back when I thought I was dead, when I couldn't comprehend still being alive. It would have been when I thought I couldn't be myself. It would have been when I went to Ohio and realized how much I'd changed and that I couldn't fix that. It wouldn't be now. Now, everything is okay. I know how to get through a day. I have a job. I have friends. Some days are harder than others, but it doesn't make sense that I'd kill myself now. ...and, Tony, if I did, it wouldn't be with a gun. Getting shot in the head once didn't kill me. I don't want to run the risk of it failing again."
Tim laughed a little and then rubbed at the scar on his forehead.
"I can't laugh about it, Tim. Not all the time. Not now."
"I know. I know that it's hard for you guys sometimes. I know that I'm weird, that I don't act like the person you remember, but I'm not that person, Tony. I'm not and I can't ever be. I won't ever be like who I was."
"You're more like you were than you think," Tony said, keeping his eyes on the road.
Tim shook his head.
"No. I'm not, Tony, but you can't know that because you can't see what I can see."
Traffic slowed to a crawl and then stopped and Tony looked at Tim.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that I see things differently from you. I see..." Tim looked out at the sky, at the swirling patterns that could easily take over his vision if he let them. "...things that I'm sure aren't really there, but they help me think. They help me find answers when I work. They're...just there..."
"You're seeing things?"
Tim laughed. "Not like you're thinking. It's just...differences in my vision. I'm not seeing a six-foot rabbit."
Tony laughed, too, but it sounded to Tim like it was a little forced.
"How much do I bother you, Tony?" he asked.
"What do you mean?"
"You know what I mean. How much do the differences bother you?"
Tony shrugged awkwardly. Traffic started moving and Tony looked back at the road. He didn't answer.
"Really, Tony. I won't get mad if you tell me how you really feel. I got mad at you yesterday because you wouldn't listen to me and you wouldn't give me time to think, but right now, I'm not mad and I won't be mad if you get bothered. I'm pretty sure you don't think I'm a freak like some do."
"Who thinks that?" Tony asked, sounding affronted.
Tim shrugged. "Just some of the people at NCIS. Some of them think that, because I have a hole in my head, my ears somehow stopped working or that I'm blind and can't tell when they're staring at me or whispering about me. It bothers me. Sometimes, it bothers me a lot, but I can't make them be any different."
"Who does that?" Tony asked again.
"It doesn't matter," Tim said. "I'm not talking about them. I know about them, and I don't care because they're not my friends. I'm asking about you because you are my friend, Tony, and it matters if you're bothered, but I want it to be something that's...out in the open. Clear and honest. Do I bother you?"
Tony sighed, and Tim thought he might not answer. He actually thought that he already knew the answer because he'd seen Tony give him looks that were similar to (although not exactly like) the expressions of those who thought he was a freak.
"Tim...sometimes, when I look at you, it's like I'm looking at a stranger. You get this expression on your face that is so...different, like you're somewhere else, and I don't know...it's almost like you're not really here and it takes something more to pull you back. And that's hard for me...but...but then, I remember seeing you on the ground, thinking you were dead, and I remember realizing that you had survived. That's why I freaked out when I saw you pointing the gun at yourself. I was afraid of seeing that again. As hard as it is sometimes for me, I would much rather have you here and different, than not have you here at all."
Tim smiled.
"That was hard to say, wasn't it. You don't like being so clear, and I know that you have be clearer for me than you like to be."
He was glad to see Tony smile, too...more genuinely.
"Yeah, it's hard for me to be so...honest," Tony admitted. "You're probably good for me since I can't hide behind being clever."
"I appreciate it, Tony. Thanks."
"You're welcome. So...am I forgiven for being a jerk to you yesterday?"
"Of course," Tim said. "I told you I'm not mad anymore."
"Is it really that easy for you?"
"When I want it to be. If I want to be mad, I can stay mad, but that makes me feel fuzzy. It's harder to think when I get mad. I need the time to calm down. I can't manage emotions like I used to. It's easier not to feel them so intensely, but when I feel them...they're there. They're really there, and I have a hard time with them."
"You never said that before."
"Not to you," Tim said. "You never asked me. I've told other people when they ask. It's not a secret."
"I guess I haven't really tried to ask."
"It's hard to do it," Tim said, reasonably. "Everyone wants me to be normal, to be how I was, but I'm not and I won't ever be. I've accepted that. I just wish that everyone else could."
"I'm working on it."
"I know."
They reached the M Street entrance to the Yard and turned in. Tony parked and they walked into NCIS together.
"You're early, Agent McGee," Henry said with a smile. "And you're really early, Agent DiNozzo."
Tony chuckled. "I gave Tim a ride. I have to be early to keep up with him."
"Ah, I see. Well, have a nice day."
"Will do," Tim said.
They walked up to the bullpen together. Ziva was already there and her face brightened when she saw the two of them.
"Good morning, Tim," she said happily and hugged him quickly. "Are you feeling better than yesterday?"
Tim nodded. "Not so weird today," he said.
"Good. I am glad. I was hoping that you would not be mad still today."
"I'm not. Tony apologized and it's okay now."
"Good."
"Agent McGee!"
Tim looked up and saw Vance leaning over the balcony.
"Yes, Director?"
"Could you come up here for a moment, please?"
Tim nodded and hurried up without a backward glance. He wondered what Vance could want from him right now. It wasn't very often that Vance spoke to him personally.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"Is he all right?" Ziva asked.
"Yeah. He told me that there are people who think he's a freak."
"Abby said the same," Ziva said. "She said he would not tell her who."
"Yeah, he wouldn't tell me, either. He said it doesn't matter, but..."
"But who would be saying that now after all this time?" Ziva asked. "Surely, everyone is used to Tim being the way he is."
"I'm not," Tony said. "And I'm spending a lot of time with him."
"But you are not saying he is a freak," Ziva said. "You are spending time with him and you are his friend."
Tony shook his head. "Tim says that it doesn't matter now, that he doesn't care because they're not his friends, but I don't like people thinking of him that way. It feels wrong to me."
"We will have to watch more closely to see who looks at Tim in that way."
Tony nodded.
"What do you think Vance wants him for?"
"Maybe he has finally had some progress on the Allen case."
"I hope so. I'm getting sick of this. The more the FBI drags its feet, the more it seems like they have something to hide."
Ziva nodded. "I agree."
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Tim walked into Vance's office and stopped in surprise. Gibbs and Fornell were both sitting there, along with a couple of people he didn't know.
"What is it, Director Vance?" Tim asked.
"I'd like to have your summation on the kind of information that might be hidden on Allen's website."
"I don't know what there is," Tim said. "I haven't looked at it since you told me to stop."
Vance smiled. "I'm aware of that, Agent McGee. I'd like your opinion. Have a seat."
"Who are they?" Tim asked, trying to sound polite but unable to take his eyes off the people in the room he didn't know.
"Of course, my apologies," Vance said. "You know Agent Fornell, of course. This is the Deputy Director of the FBI, Franklin Mason, and the agent with him is the head of the Allen case at the FBI, Agent Norris Russell."
Tim didn't like how Agent Russell was looking at him. He looked at Gibbs for a moment and saw him nod.
"I think that Allen didn't want the FBI to see what he had. I don't know why he chose to hide it online, but I don't think he wanted you guys to see it."
"Why not?" Director Mason asked.
"Either because he thinks you're the problem or else because he had a grudge. I don't know that part. I don't know anything about Allen himself. I've only seen his work, and he's skilled, but I feel like he didn't want you in there, but he wanted someone."
"Like you?" Agent Russell asked.
"Anyone who could follow what he did. The FBI couldn't. I could."
"And, in your opinion, is this something that would indicate that NCIS should continue to work on this case?" Vance asked.
Tim shrugged. "I don't know anything about that," he said. "Allen contacted us before he was killed. He didn't ask for the FBI's help. Doesn't that matter? Shouldn't what he wanted mean something?"
"If he was doing something illegal, then, no," Director Mason said.
"Is there any indication that he was? You'd been watching him," Gibbs said, speaking for the first time.
"There's always a chance that we missed something," Agent Russell said.
"Is that everything, Director Vance?" Tim asked. He didn't like being in the same room with Agent Russell. He found something about him very off-putting. He wanted the security of his little office.
"Director Mason?" Vance asked.
"I don't have anything else. Thank you, Agent McGee."
Tim bounced to his feet and left the office without another word. When he got out, he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned. Gibbs and Fornell had followed him.
"I don't like Agent Russell," Tim said before Gibbs could speak. "I don't like how he looked at me."
"Agent Russell resents being shown up by a single person," Fornell said with a rueful smile. "And he's never been the nicest person anyway."
"I don't like him," Tim declared firmly.
"I don't, either," Gibbs said. "You all right?"
"Yes. Why did Vance want me in there?"
"A show of cooperation, and you asked the right question," Gibbs said.
"I did?"
Fornell nodded. "You pointed out that Allen did what he wanted and contacted NCIS, not the FBI. That should mean something. I think the wrangling will be done within the week and you guys will be able to get going on it."
"Don't you want priority?" Tim asked.
"I want to know why Allen thought this was so important. If there's rot in the FBI, we need to know, and the rotten elements won't want that to happen. The longer we wait, the more likely it is that they'll get away."
Tim nodded. "Can I go to my office now?" he asked Gibbs.
"Yeah."
Tim fled to the safety of his little office without speaking to anyone else. He turned on his computer and found a couple of requests from Cybercrimes. Nothing too complex, but enough that it would occupy his mind for a little while. He started to relax as he got back into his usual routine.
And he felt better.