Chapter 7

It turned out that it was four in the morning when Tim got into his apartment. He didn't know what to do. They had warned him that if he told anyone they'd shoot him. He didn't doubt that they could find him at work and do just that. He didn't dare tell anyone what happened in case they were listening.

...but at the same time, he really wanted to tell someone and have them tell him what to do.

It took a full two hours of sitting next to Jethro, holding him tightly, before he was ready to face leaving his apartment. Jethro didn't try to get away.

At the same time, he didn't think he could make it to work on his own, but he was afraid of asking someone for help. He was afraid that they'd ask him what was wrong.

...but he wouldn't make it.

...but they'd kill him if he told anyone.

...but was it real?

He didn't want to go to work. For the first time that he could remember since getting shot, he didn't want to go to work. NCIS had been the one true source of continuity from his life before and his life after, and he'd never wanted to stay away.

...but he did right now.

...but he really wanted to be with someone.

...but could he get there on his own?

Tim thought about it. No. There was no way he had enough concentration in him right now to get to work.

Jethro whined at him. Tim looked at his dog. Maybe he could take Jethro with him?

...but if he did, what would the others think?

...but if he didn't...

Tim knew that the Tim he'd been before wouldn't be having this problem. It was one of the few times when he hated the way he was right now. He knew that the solution should be easy, but it wasn't. Tim couldn't figure out what the solution was. He couldn't decide what would be best and what would get him killed.

With a gun.

He knew that if he got shot again he'd die. There was no way he could get lucky the way he had twice. ...and at that, he'd thought he was dead anyway.

"What do I do, Jethro? What do I do?"

Jethro whined at him again. Then, he trotted over to where Tim kept his work shoes. He picked them up in his teeth (a big no-no, generally) and brought them back to Tim. He put them down and nudged them toward Tim.

"Okay. I'll go to work. I should go to work. I can't make it without you, though. Maybe I could get back to my routine if I could get home on my own tonight. Okay. I'm taking you with me. Okay."

Tim got to his feet and carefully got ready for the day. He was shaking. He was still afraid.

He picked up his badge and his bag. Then, he clipped Jethro onto his leash and stood in front of his door. He didn't want to leave. He felt so unsettled that just the thought of going out into the world made him shake.

He knelt down.

"Jethro...I can't."

He buried his face in Jethro's fur and listened to the dog's concerned whine. Finally, he stood up, took a breath and left the apartment, his hand clenching Jethro's leash so tightly that his knuckles were white.

He walked to the Metro, Jethro right by his side, keeping him from getting off course. They walked into the station and Tim headed toward the entrance.

"Excuse me, sir?"

Tim kept walking.

"Sir?"

Jethro nudged him again and Tim turned. A Metro employee was approaching him.

"What?" Tim asked.

"We don't allow dogs on the Metro. Only service animals."

"I need him with me," Tim said. "He's well-trained."

"Is he a guide dog, sir?" the man asked.

Tim couldn't think of how to explain why Jethro was so essential. His mind wasn't functioning correctly anyway.

"I have to have him with me," he said.

"If he's a guide dog, he can go with you, but...but you're not blind, sir."

"I was shot in the head two years ago," Tim blurted out, speaking too quickly to sound normal. "I still have problems. I need Jethro with me. I'll get lost. I won't make it to work if I don't."

The man actually backed off a step or two. Jethro whined at Tim again.

"Please?" Tim asked. "Please."

"Uh...um..." The man clearly wanted to be anywhere else other than where he was, confronting someone he obviously thought was crazy. Tim could see it in his eyes.

"Tomorrow, I'll make arrangements for a taxi if I need Jethro with me. Please?"

"Go. Just...go..." The man walked away.

Tim hated the way the man had looked at him, but he needed to get on the train. He looked down at Jethro.

"We need to go, Jethro...before he changes his mind. You ready?"

Jethro barked once and then they headed off. Tim didn't even see all the looks he got from people because of Jethro, but Jethro was on his best behavior. It was a good thing because Tim's eyes were closed. It was taking everything he had just to listen for the Metro stops, and at that, he still almost missed his. They got off, Tim feeling buffeted by the crowds of people who had surged around him.

Eventually, they got out to the street. Tim didn't even know how long it had taken him because he kept disconnecting, but finally, he was in the open air again. Jethro kept him from wandering into the street. It seemed to take forever, but they made it to the gates of the Yard.

"Agent McGee, you're late."

"Yeah."

"Hey, are you okay? You're looking a little wigged out, if you don't mind my saying."

"I don't mind. It's like I was somewhere else. Jethro had to help me here today."

"Maybe you shouldn't have come."

"No, I needed to come to work," Tim said, not willing to reveal why he was so desperate for it.

"Okay, okay. Don't worry, Agent McGee. I'm not going to send you home."

Tim smiled weakly. He must really sound bad this morning. Someone who knew him was reacting to the way he was acting.

"Sorry."

"No worries. Go on in. Besides, with your dog here, I wouldn't want to risk bugging you."

Tim smiled a little more and walked to the building. He got inside.

"Agent McGee, you're really late today. Metro break down again?" Henry asked.

"No. Couldn't get...going this morning. I just...didn't...sleep much."

Did I? Did I sleep? I don't know. I can't remember now.

"You okay?"

"No," Tim said, honestly. "But I had to come to work. I needed...routine."

"No problem on my end," Henry said, "but you don't need to worry about forcing yourself to do things you can't do."

Tim just shook his head and went to the elevator. Jethro was still doing more of the directing than Tim would like to admit. The elevator went up to the balcony and Tim walked toward his office. Tony was just coming out.

"Hey, Tim. Where have you been? It's almost nine!"

"Is it?"

I didn't think that much time had passed, Tim thought to himself.

"Yeah. You okay, man?"

Tim could see Tony's worry.

"I'm not...but I'm here. Jethro came with me and it was okay. I just need to get to work and...and...I was..."

"You were what?"

Tim backed away from telling Tony what had happened. At this point, he wasn't sure it actually had anyway.

"I didn't sleep much last night...and...I'm all... Things just aren't right."

"Nightmares?"

"No! No...no nightmares," Tim said with irritation. "I just went... I..."

"You didn't have to come, Tim."

"Yes, I did. I need to get into my office, Tony. I need to."

Tim couldn't stand out on the balcony, exposed the way he was. He brushed by Tony, into his office, and he sat down. It was such a relief to be in here. It was safe in here. Jethro whined at him again and Tim knelt on the floor and hugged his dog tightly.

"I made it, Jethro. I made it."

Tim almost wanted to cry.

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

Tony walked down to the bullpen.

"Did you see that?" he asked Ziva.

She nodded.

"Yes. I could not hear him, though."

"He was..."

"What, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked as he strode in.

"Hey, Boss. McGee just got here."

"Just barely?"

"Yeah, and he...I'm going to hate myself for describing it this way...but he kind of seemed crazy."

"How?"

"He wasn't speaking clearly. He really looked like he was two seconds away from a meltdown. And he brought his dog with him, too. I don't remember the last time he did that."

"What did he say?"

"Nothing really, and you know that he doesn't tell us as much as he tells you and Ducky. Something is wrong with him, Boss. I don't know what it is, but..."

Gibbs furrowed his brow. He took a couple of steps toward the stairs and then paused when his phone rang.

"Gibbs," he said tersely.

Tony watched as Gibbs' expression became irritated. He listened for a few seconds and then hung up the phone.

"Tell Ducky about it and get him up to talk to Tim."

"What's going on, Boss?"

"Something from the FBI. They're claiming that they've made progress on breaking Allen's encryption and aren't willing to give us priority anymore."

"What? How?"

Gibbs just glared and ran up the stairs, heading to Vance's office instead of to Tim's office.

"What do you think happened? Tim was not having this trouble yesterday," Ziva said.

"I don't know, but it was different from when he just gets mad or frustrated. I mean...this is the first time that I'd say that he seemed crazy...at least since he was in the hospital. I'm worried about him."

Ziva nodded in agreement and picked up her phone.

"I will call Ducky."

"Okay."

Ziva dialed.

"Ducky, do you have some time right now? No...not for me. Gibbs would like you to talk to Tim. He just barely got to NCIS and he seems..."

She trailed off. None of them liked using the word crazy to describe Tim. He wasn't crazy, but he was different.

"Yes," she agreed reluctantly.

Ducky must have used it, Tony figured.

"Thank you, Ducky."

She hung up.

"He is coming up." She was still for a moment and then, staring steadfastly at her computer screen, she spoke again. "I do not want to see him like this."

"Yeah...me, neither."

Tony knew that they were both thinking the same thing. It was the same thing they thought every time Tim acted strangely.

What if it's permanent?

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

Ducky walked to Tim's office door, wondering what he'd see inside. For Ziva to sound as unsettled as she did, it must be out-of-the-ordinary. Tony was often still unsettled, but Ziva had accepted Tim's changes with much more equanimity.

He knocked.

No answer.

That was normal.

Ducky opened the door, and what he saw was not normal. Tim was sitting on the floor with his arms around Jethro, his face buried in his dog's fur.

"Timothy?"

Tim sat up and looked at him. Ducky understood why Tony and Ziva had been so disturbed. There was a different look than the other times that Tim had become unsettled by things. He did seem genuinely disturbed.

"Timothy, what's wrong?"

"I just can't settle and I had such a hard time getting here today."

"Why didn't you call anyone for help?"

"I brought Jethro," Tim said. "I needed Jethro with me. I couldn't... Last night...I..."

"What?"

Tim looked away and buried his face in Jethro's fur again. Jethro whined and tried to nuzzle Tim. He seemed especially concerned for his master.

"Timothy, remember that you can trust us."

Tim said nothing but then, he looked up.

"It's like I was somewhere else all night only I don't know where and I don't remember it and...and I feel so lost and...and... I needed to have my routine. I needed it."

Ducky didn't understand exactly what Tim was saying. It sounded like a particularly disturbing nightmare, but it wasn't Tim's usual nightmare of the shooting.

He got down on the floor to be on the same level...since Tim seemed disinclined to stand up.

"Timothy, what is it that disturbed you so much?"

"A gun, Ducky," Tim whispered. "It was a gun. A gun at my head."

"A dream, then?" Ducky asked. That sounded more like what he'd expected.

"I don't know. I don't know anymore, Ducky."

Ducky sat beside Tim and put a comforting arm around his shoulders. To his surprise, Tim leaned on him, closed his eyes and started to cry. Back when he was still actively recovering, Tim had cried a lot. He hadn't been able to hold back the feeling and whenever it was present, he had cried. Over time, he had regained his ability to control those inclinations, but it seemed that he had momentarily lost it again.

"It's all right, Timothy. It's all right. We'll help you get through it."

Tim didn't seem to believe him. He didn't relax or stop crying for a few minutes. Ducky was worried about this regression, but he hoped it would be temporary. He stayed on the floor beside Tim until there was some relaxation.

"Will you be all right, Timothy?"

"Maybe."

"You'll need a ride home?"

Tim nodded.

"Perhaps it would be a good idea for you to stay with someone for a few days."

Tim shook his head.

"No. I need to be home."

"Very well, but keep it in mind."

Tim nodded.

"I can do it, now, Ducky," Tim said.

He sat up and got to his feet. Then, he looked down and put out his hand to help Ducky stand. Ducky was happy for the assistance.

"Are you sure you're all right, Timothy?"

"I'm better."

"Are you certain?"

Tim nodded and sat at his computer. Tim had often seemed to set things aside very easily. Ducky hoped that was the case this time. He would let Tim get back to his routine, but they'd have to keep an eye on him to make sure that this really was a temporary situation. It was worse than he'd seen for a while and the last thing they'd want was for Tim to fall back into it.

"If you need more help, Timothy, you know you can ask."

"I know."

Jethro put his head on Tim's knee and started panting. If Ducky could read the emotions of a dog with any skill at all, Jethro still seemed upset.

But Tim had gone to his computer and started working on a request from Cybercrimes.

It seemed to be over. ...for now.