Chapter 8
"Are you sure that you'll be able to figure out what Allen has hidden on his site?" Agent Russell asked.
"Absolutely, sir," Mike said. "Chayce and I have figured out the pattern. We just need to have the time to follow it to open up everything."
"Okay. We've got the time now, but I can't guarantee that NCIS won't put up a fight to get it back. You get this done as fast as you can and it'll stay with us."
"Will do."
"Oh, and Mike?"
Mike paused as he started to stand.
"Yes, sir?"
"When you get through, you tell me. No one else. We don't know what's going to be on that site and it wouldn't do to spread it around."
"Of course, sir. Thank you for the chance, sir."
"Dismissed."
Mike let himself out of Agent Russell's office, only barely hiding his glee. His plan was working perfectly! He and Chayce would be rising through the ranks in no time.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Gibbs decided that he would be the one to take Tim home. Ducky had described Tim's seeming reticence to explain. Was it the same problem they always had of Tim being unable to explain himself or was it something else?
For not the first time, Gibbs regretted that Tim was isolated in that small office. It was a necessity because of the difficulties Tim had in focusing on tasks when there were too many distractions, but he spent so much of the day by himself. It just felt wrong.
He knocked on the door.
No response. That was normal.
He tried the knob.
It was locked.
That was different.
He knocked again, a little louder.
"McGee! Open the door!"
There was a silence and then he heard movement. The door opened. Tim was standing there with an expression Gibbs couldn't identify.
"I heard you knock," he said. "I didn't want to answer."
"Why not, McGee?"
Tim looked down and Jethro who had started whining again.
"How do you know what's real and what's not?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know...sometimes, you have a dream that seems so real, but then, you wake up and it's not real at all...no matter how real it seemed. How do you tell? I mean...what if this was a dream?"
"It's not."
"But how do you tell?" Tim asked plaintively.
He looked up at Gibbs and there was real distress in his eyes.
"Tim, what is this about?"
"How would I know if what I think happened last night really happened?"
"What do you think happened?"
"I went somewhere. I don't know how I got there and I don't know where it was, but I was there for a long time. ...and then, I was standing at my door."
Gibbs considered. It sure sounded like a dream to him, but it was clear that Tim was bothered by it.
"Why does it bother you so much?"
"Because it was all night! Because it wasn't my routine! Because...because I don't know what I did or why or how or... Am I crazy?"
"No." That was the easy part to answer. "Tim...it sounds like a dream. Maybe it was. If it happens again, tell us, but it sounds like a dream."
"It felt like a dream...a nightmare. I hated it."
"Do you want to stay somewhere else for a few days?"
Tim shook his head.
"You can, Tim. It's nothing wrong with you if you need that."
Tim shook his head again.
"Are you sure?"
Tim nodded.
"You ready to go?"
Another nod. Gibbs noticed that Jethro didn't seem to be any calmer than Tim was. As they left the office, Jethro was in constant contact with Tim, as if he was guiding Tim to where he needed to go.
They left and Tim kept his eyes closed for the whole trip. Jethro was in the back seat, but he'd reached his head forward so that he could rest it on Tim's shoulder.
When they got to Tim's apartment, Tim opened the car door and then stopped and looked up.
"Are you sure you want to stay here, Tim?"
Tim nodded again. He got out of the car and then stopped again.
"Jethro?" he called.
Gibbs opened the door and watched as Tim's dog ran over to his master and stayed right beside him while they walked into the building. He was a little worried, but he hoped that Tim would be all right. If Tim wanted to maintain his independence, Gibbs wasn't going to force him to accept a shift in location if he didn't want it.
For now, he had to go back to NCIS and see if they could figure out what had caused the sudden change in the FBI's position.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Tim walked into his apartment and looked down at Jethro.
"If it's real they're going to come back, Jethro, and I'll have to go with them. I can't say no...not with the gun. So you'll have to stay and I'll have to go. If it's real. Gibbs thinks it's a dream. Maybe it is."
Jethro whined at him...and then, when there was a knock at the door, he started to growl. Tim didn't want to open the door, but he felt as though he had no choice. They could shoot through the door. They could kill him.
He walked over and opened the door.
There they were.
They had the gun.
"Let's go," one said.
Jethro was growling.
"We can shoot the dog, too."
"Stay, Jethro," Tim managed to say without taking his eyes off the gun.
Then, they left.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
For the rest of the week, Tim became more and more strange, disconnected. He got rides with people to and from work. He was on edge all the time, but he was working fine. He just was losing his ability to interact normally. They tried to talk to him, but it went nowhere and Tim refused to accept staying anywhere but at his own place. Even when Abby offerred to stay with him at his apartment, Tim said no, insisting that he just needed his routine. The problem was that his routine didn't seem to be helping him at all. After Tim left on Thursday evening, they decided that if he was the same on Friday, they were going to insist that Tim stay with one of them and that he get some extra help with whatever was wrong.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"I'm in," Tim said. "The encryption..."
Mike let out a whoop of triumph and pulled out his phone to call Agent Russell. It was after midnight, but he figured that this kind of breakthrough would be welcome at any hour given how determined Agent Russell had been to keep this an FBI case.
Chayce wasn't quite so happy. He had started noticing how terrified Tim was, and that just didn't seem like the right thing to do, even if they were still solving a case. They were doing it this way so that they got the credit for what Tim was doing. It wasn't as much about the case as it was about furthering their careers. He wasn't sure that karma wouldn't pop up and make them regret it. No matter what Mike said, this sure felt wrong.
"Yes, Agent Russell, I know it's really late, but we got in! We broke the encryption!"
Chayce saw Tim shaking. He hadn't protested. He hadn't said anything beyond answering the questions they asked. ...but what were they doing to him?
Mike hung up.
"We did it, Chayce!" he said. "We did it! All that planning and it's worked just liked I said it would."
"At what cost?" Chayce asked. "Look at him! It's wrong. It's wrong and you know it."
"Oh, come on. A couple of days and he'll be back to normal. We'll leave him to wander around. He won't remember us and it will all be a bad dream."
"Dreams..." Tim whispered.
"I don't know, Mike. I just... I don't like it."
"You always say that. Look, when Agent Russell gets here, we'll have everything we've wanted and you'll stop complaining, then."
Tim was sitting there, looking at the screen.
"Russell," he said softly. "He's the one Allen was hiding from."
"What?" Mike asked.
Tim pointed at the screen and spoke woodenly.
"Allen was a hacker. He found out that Russell was smuggling, that he'd pinned a murder on someone else. He got as much evidence as he could because he didn't think anyone would believe him since he was hacking."
Chayce moved Tim aside and looked the newly decrypted site. It was all there. Details about how Russell had smuggled data and laundered money using FBI resources and had pinned it on an earlier suspect who had been killed in the crossfire.
"Mike, he's right. Look at this."
"No. No way."
"Mike! You just told Agent Russell that..."
There was a sound outside the room. Chayce looked at Mike and then at Tim.
There was silence...for a few seconds.
Then, someone started firing right through the door. Tim shouted out and dove to the floor, covering his head and screaming. It was quite a shock to have someone who had been as silent as the dead suddenly reacting like he was dying.
Then, there was a sound, something Chayce had never heard before. He turned around and saw Mike standing in front of the door. He staggered backwards, turned around and gasped for breath. Then, he coughed and blood dribbled out of his mouth.
He started to speak, but then, he collapsed to the floor and was still. Chayce was frozen in place for a moment. This was not ever in the plans that Mike had made. Ever.
...but now, he had a choice. Mike was dead. They were coming in. Maybe he could get rid of some of his bad karma by trying to save the innocent person in all this. He spun back around, grabbed Tim from his huddled position on the floor and dragged him to the fire escape, forcing him to walk, to crawl, whatever would get him moving.
"Go!" he said. "Get out."
Tim just looked at him. There was no reason in his eyes. He was terrified beyond all reason.
The gunfire started up again and Tim cowered and screamed once more.
"You can get away from the guns if you run!"
Then, Chayce felt a searing pain in his back. He fell to his knees.
"Please...go..."
The last thing he saw before the black closed in on his vision was Tim backing away from him, still looking more crazed than anything.
It was the best he could do.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Steps. Steps. That's all there was, but he managed to close his ears to the gunfire. It took every ounce of strength he had left, and he had to leave behind everything else he knew. He couldn't think of anything else. Only one thought could be in his mind. All he knew now was that he had to run. Run down the steps. Down the steps until the point at which he couldn't see any more steps. He was on the ground! He started to run and run. He didn't know where he was or where he was going, but he was listening to the last thing he'd heard. If he ran he'd get away from the guns. That was all that mattered. If he ran he'd get away from the guns.
He looked around once, but then, the rain and thunder started and it scared him again. He kept running to get away.
That was all he could think of.
He wanted to get away.
Away from the guns.