Chapter 11
Freshly cleaned and groomed, Jethro seemed to realize the importance of good behavior as he trotted beside Abby through the hospital to Tim's room. He had never stepped so carefully. Not a single tug on the leash. Abby had explained everything to him, but she wasn't sure just how much the dog had understood beyond perhaps Tim's name. Maybe that was enough. He had shown only anxiety since Tim's disappearance and then being kept from him.
Abby led Jethro to the door of Tim's room and she opened the door. As soon as she did, Jethro pulled away from her and jumped onto the bed. He started licking Tim's face, whining as he did so. Tim's eyes had been closed. He'd been sedated, but they were letting the sedatives wear off in the hopes that Jethro would do what Abby had said he could.
Tim's eyes fluttered open and then closed again.
Jethro gave another whine and then settled down on the bed beside Tim, his head on Tim's chest.
Tim didn't move, didn't get up like Abby had hoped, but Tim didn't freak out again like he had been. He stayed remarkably calm, even though he didn't open his eyes. In fact, he was clearly conscious, but he was relaxed. Jethro also calmed down as he lay beside Tim. Every so often he'd let out a little whine, but it was soft and he didn't do anything more than that.
Abby sat with them for a couple of hours. Nothing. Jethro was right beside Tim and didn't move away, not once.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
There was something different. Something that made him feel like he could open his eyes. A weight on his chest. A good weight.
He opened his eyes and saw a ceiling above him. He wasn't sure what that meant. Safety? Could it mean that the guns were gone? No more shooting?
"Tim?"
Why did he feel safe?
A whine. That was something he recognized. An anxious bark. Wetness on his face.
A dog. My dog.
He blinked a few times and then turned his head slowly toward the sound.
There was a big dog nose right in his face. It was so surprising that he found himself sitting up before he even realized that he could do that.
There was Jethro, panting at him, sitting on the bed. But it wasn't his bed. Where was he? He looked around. He started to feel worried again.
"Tim? Can you hear me?"
There was a voice. He recognized the voice. It was a good voice. A safe voice. He started to relax again. He looked away from Jethro and toward the voice on the other side of the bed.
"Tony."
"Yeah, Probie. You back with us, then?"
"Where am I?"
"Hospital."
"Oh. Why? Am I hurt?"
Tony's face showed concern.
"Do you not remember anything that happened?"
"I don't know if I want to, Tony," Tim said. He started to feel anxious again.
Jethro nudged him and Tim hugged his dog tightly. More details were coming back to him, but they weren't clear. They were just frightening. More than anything else...a sound. A horrible, horrible sound.
"Okay. I think it can wait. I'm just glad to have you back."
"There was...a shot...lots of shots," Tim whispered.
"Yeah. We figured you were there and that's what made you disconnect like you did."
"Oh."
Tim buried his face in Jethro's fur for a few minutes. He didn't want to hear shots again. He didn't want to get shot again. The last time had almost killed him, had disconnected his brain, had made him strange and unfamiliar. He didn't want those shots again.
Jethro whined again.
"Tim?"
"Yeah?"
"How are you feeling?"
"I don't know. It's all...fuzzy, but I'm afraid to have it be clear, Tony. I don't remember coming here, but there are...things...things that..."
"It's okay," Tony said quickly. Too quickly.
"No, it isn't," Tim whispered.
"It is. Really. We're just glad that you're okay."
"But am I?" Tim wasn't sure about that.
"Okay?"
"Yeah."
"You will be."
Jethro whined and whuffled in Tim's face. Tim remembered the gunshots and he closed his eyes and whimpered.
"There was a gun. There was a gun."
"It's all right, Tim. Just set it aside for now. You don't have to go back to it right away."
But Tim did. He had no choice but to see it all again. See the gun. See the...
He screwed his eyes tightly closed and started to cry. He covered his scar with his hands.
"There was a gun!"
Jethro's whining increased in volume, too.
"I heard it!" He was starting to feel that same terror he'd felt before.
Then, there were two hands on his arms, anchoring him to the earth, keeping him from falling, from being shot again. Still, he was afraid. He couldn't focus. He couldn't listen. He couldn't think. The world was starting to spiral away again.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Tony could see that Tim was heading back to his insanity, and he really didn't want that to happen. Not again...especially not while he was there staring at him.
"Tim, I know you're scared. I know, and even if I don't understand why, I know that you are, but I know that you're safe! No guns, no bullets. No one is trying to hurt you here. Please...Please, don't fall back again. I just don't...know what to do to help you. I really want to, but I don't."
"Shooting at me! The gun was shooting. I couldn't think! I couldn't...I... A voice telling me to run. I couldn't do anything."
Jethro started to whine more loudly.
Tony was worried. If someone complained about Jethro, they'd likely make the dog leave and, right now, he seemed to be the only one anchoring Tim to reality.
"Quiet, Jethro," he said. "Tim, you're upsetting your dog!"
He didn't expect that to make any difference, but Tim looked at him and then at Jethro and grabbed him and hugged him again.
"I don't want to get shot again! I don't want to be killed again!"
"Not again, Tim," Tony corrected quickly. "Remember. You didn't die the first time."
Tim was as close to genuinely crazy as Tony had seen him in a long time.
"Please, Tim. Don't do this. Don't go there. You don't have to. You're fine now. You're safe. No one is going to hurt you. No one is going to shoot you. You're fine."
Tim started crying again, and Jethro began licking his face.
Tony didn't know what to do. He really wished that someone else was here because they would know better how to deal with this, how to break through Tim's mindless terror. Tony just had no idea what to do...but he knew he had to do something. Tim wasn't going to get through this without someone on the outside of it helping him.
He looked back to the door, hoping that someone would be there...but no such luck. Then, he remembered seeing Tim's mom calming him down when he'd freaked out after he'd tried to jump off the roof. He felt really awkward about this, but he got up and sat down on bed.
He hesitated and then put his hand over Tim's scar. Tim shuddered, and Tony almost took his hand away, but then, he seemed to calm down just a bit.
Tony didn't know what Tim was thinking, but he was thinking how weird this was.
Still, no matter how hard this was for him, Tim was his friend and he wasn't going to let his discomfort stop him from trying to help. He slid his arm around Tim's shoulders but kept his hand on Tim's forehead.
"Listen to me, Tim. You're safe. I don't know what all happened there, but I know that you're safe now. You just need to hear what I'm saying and believe me."
Tim didn't seem to hear him at first, but he had said before that he had a hard time focusing when his emotions were strong. So he kept talking while Tim cried. Then, suddenly, he realized that Tim was starting to relax. He wasn't as tense. Jethro wasn't whining as much. He thought maybe he should say what he'd been saying again.
"You're safe, Tim. You're not in any danger. You're safe. No one is going to hurt you. I promise. You're safe."
Tim took a deep shuddering breath and let it out.
"I had to run," he whispered.
"It's all right. Just let it go for now. Don't think about it if you can't."
"He told me to run."
"I'm glad you did."
"I had to run to get away from the sound."
"Yeah."
"Tony."
"That's me."
Tim's eyes opened and he looked around the room.
"Hospital."
"Yeah, you've been here for a few days."
"Really?"
"Yeah."
Tim was quiet for a few seconds. Jethro's whine was very soft now.
"Why?"
"Because you weren't...thinking right."
"Oh."
Another period of quiet.
"Tony?"
"Yeah?"
"No guns?"
"No. No guns." And there wouldn't be until Tim was fully back to himself if Tony could prevent it.
"I was so...afraid. ...the bullets. I didn't want to get shot again."
"I know. It's all right."
"I was...falling off the world again."
"Are you now?"
"No."
"Good."
Tony still felt really awkward about sitting there with his hand covering Tim's scar, but since it seemed to be helping, he wasn't moving it.
Finally, after about half an hour, Tony looked at the door for the millionth time and saw Gibbs in the window. A silent eyebrow raise and Tony nodded.
The door opened and Tim tensed at the sound.
"It's just Gibbs, Tim. It's all right." He looked over and tried for nonchalance. "Hey, Boss."
"Tim?" Gibbs asked.
Tim looked over at Gibbs, and Tony knew Tim wasn't feeling weird about how this might look. Tim didn't think about those kinds of things anymore.
"Boss. There were guns."
"Yeah," Gibbs said with more than a little regret.
It was awful that Tim could be driven so close to insanity by something he would have faced down with relative ease before he'd been shot.
"Will you fall if I let you go, Tim?" Tony asked.
"Jethro's here," Tim said softly.
Was that an answer? Tony didn't know, but he carefully freed his arm and took his hand off Tim's forehead. Tim shivered a little, but didn't seem headed for another break down.
"The boss is going to be here until your parents come, okay?" Tony asked.
"Parents?" Tim asked.
"Yeah, they came when they heard what happened."
"Oh." Tim took a deep breath and hugged Jethro again.
"He's still really shaky, Boss," Tony said in a low voice. "I didn't know what else to do."
Gibbs nodded and walked over to sit by Tim. He put his hand on Tim's shoulder and said something quietly. Tim looked at him and nodded. Then, Tim looked at Tony. There was still more than a little bewilderment in his expression, but he managed a weak smile.
"Thanks, Tony."
"No worries, Probie. Just relax."
Tim leaned back without replying.
Tony escaped from the room, although he felt guilty for thinking that way. He was glad that Tim was at least connected to the world around him again, but it was so hard to see him changed that way. It was like going back in time to the second worst part of Tim's recovery. As he headed back to NCIS to check in, he wondered what he'd say when people asked how things were going. An improvement, definitely...but enough of one?
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Tim tried to think through the fuzziness. It was hard, even with Gibbs there keeping him anchored to the world. His eyes were closed tightly.
"Tim, you're all right."
Tim heard him, and suddenly, there was a question in his mind.
"Am I in trouble?" he asked.
There was a sigh.
"No. You're not, Tim."
Tim nodded. "There were guns. Someone shooting at me."
"Just one person? Or more?"
"Lots of shots," Tim said and took a deep breath.
The hand on his shoulder tightened its grip.
"None of them hit you, Tim. You're all right."
A whine.
"Am I?"
"Yes."
"Why am I so afraid?"
"Because you had someone shooting at you. That's hard to deal with."
"For me."
"Yes, for you."
Tim screwed up his courage and opened his eyes. There were no bullets. No guns. Just his dog on the bed and Gibbs sitting beside him.
"I'm still afraid," he said.
"That's all right," Gibbs said, and he seemed sincere.
Tim looked at him and at the room around him.
"I just wanted to get away."
"That's all right," Gibbs said again.
"They kept...taking me away and I couldn't think."
"I'm sorry, Tim."
Tim looked at Gibbs and then back at Jethro.
"Why? Why are you? You weren't there."
"I know, and none of us really listened. We should have. This could have been stopped if we had."
"I couldn't think. I didn't know what to say."
"That's why you're having trouble now, Tim, but you're getting better and that's good."
"Am I crazy?"
"No."
"Okay."
There was a soft laugh.
"I'm glad to hear you say that."
Tim furrowed his brow and looked at Gibbs.
"Why?"
"Because that's you."
"It's not how I was," Tim said.
"That doesn't matter. It hasn't mattered for months. Don't let it start mattering now. Just focus on thinking straight."
Tim felt the panic as he remembered the gunfire. He tried not to.
Gibbs' hand didn't go away. It kept him from spiraling away.
Then, he thought about the gun he kept in his desk. He had managed to point it at himself for a period of time. Not long, but some time without freaking out.
I don't have to be so afraid. I wasn't, he thought to himself.
He took a breath and tried to think...but it was so hard.
"I'm tired," he said.
"You can sleep. You won't be alone."
"Promise?"
"I promise. Someone will be with you."
"And Jethro?"
"He'll be here, too...except when he needs to go out."
"Okay."
"Sleep, Tim. It'll be all right."
"Okay."
Tim lay back and closed his eyes. Then, he reached out and felt Jethro. The German shepherd's head lay on his chest again. The weight was comforting. With someone there keeping him anchored, and Jethro there for comfort, he felt safe enough to fall asleep.