Chapter 14
Tim felt his whole world shrink. All that existed was him and the gun pointed at him. Just like before. There was a roaring in his ears. He couldn't hear anything. For an unknown period of time, all he could do was stare at the gun.
Then, suddenly, he heard something again.
"–little freak. I can't understand why it took someone like you to break through it. I had everything blocked. No one at the FBI could figure out why they couldn't get through, and then, a freak like you broke through the blocks I'd put up like they weren't even there! All I needed was to keep everyone out until I could figure out how to break the encryption and know exactly what Allen had on me, but no. I had to have the freak of NCIS come on the scene. Everyone knows about what happened to you, how Director Vance took pity on an idiot and gave you a job. ...but then, you broke my blocks."
Tim heard the voice, but what he saw was Tony on the floor. Not moving. There was blood on his head. Blood. On his head.
Tony got shot! He's going to think he's dead!
Then, he saw Jethro on the floor, too. He was also bloody.
"You tell me how you broke through and you'll only be afraid very briefly. I can't afford to shoot more than once, not if I want to get away."
Tim's eyes went back to the gun.
"I don't want to think I'm dead!" he whispered.
There was a laugh. A cruel laugh.
"Don't worry, freak. You won't for long. I shoot you in the head and you'll really die."
"I didn't before," Tim said.
"I doubt you'll luck out again. Tell me what you did, how you broke through."
There was that gun.
But it was a lot like his own. The one he kept in his desk. The one he knew how to use.
He hadn't heard any shots yet.
Maybe...
"Idiot. You just sit there. I can't believe that you're smart enough to break through. If it weren't for the fact that those other two were bigger idiots than you, I'd think that all this was an act."
Then, the gun moved away.
It moved away...without shooting at him.
Suddenly, Tim didn't know how, but he threw himself forward, grabbing for the gun he hated and feared. He could see the man across the lawn. If the man across the lawn didn't have a gun, he couldn't shoot Tim in the head again. That was the only thing he could do to keep from thinking he was dead again.
He had surprise on his side. Clearly, the person holding the gun didn't think he'd be able to move. He also had desperate fear.
Suddenly, the gun was in his hand. He didn't think. He reacted. He hadn't been fast enough before and he'd thought he was dead.
He started firing. He couldn't stop with one shot. He didn't know how to stop pulling the trigger.
Agent Russell staggered back away from him as Tim fired again and again. Finally, the gun stopped firing. There was no more sound. Tim stared at Agent Russell for what seemed an eternity.
...but then, Agent Russell's eyes became empty. He slid down the wall and fell to the floor. He didn't move.
Tim stared at him and then, he looked at Tony again. He saw the blood coming from Tony's head. He ran over and knelt down. He rolled Tony onto his back and took his hand.
"Tony...you're not dead," Tim said. "You're not dead. You're not dead."
He didn't know how long he knelt on the floor beside Tony, telling him that he wasn't dead. He didn't want anyone to feel what he had felt. He would have tried with Jethro, but he was pretty sure that Jethro wouldn't understand him. Tony would.
"You're not dead. You're not dead."
Then, out of nowhere, there were people pulling at him, trying to stop him from helping Tony.
"No, no, no," he said. "No! Tony, you have to listen to me. You're not dead. You're not dead."
He could hear voices, but he was so focused on making sure Tony heard him that he couldn't understand what they were saying.
"You're not dead, Tony. You're not dead."
Then, there was a light tap on the back of his head...and he heard a voice he had to listen to. He couldn't ignore that voice. He'd get in trouble.
"Tim."
He chanced looking away from Tony briefly.
"Boss, he has to know that he's not dead. I can't let him feel that."
He started to turn back to Tony, but he felt hands on his shoulders, keeping him from moving.
"Tim, listen to me."
"He's not dead."
"I know. They need to take Tony so that they can take care of him. You hear me?"
"There's blood."
"He didn't get shot, Tim. There's no bullet wound."
"Someone has to tell him that he's not dead," Tim said.
"Okay. Someone will, but you have to let him go. All right?"
Tim looked down and realized that he had a white-knuckle grip on Tony's hand. Then, he looked at Gibbs again.
"Let him go, Tim. He's going to be fine."
Tim nodded and released Tony's hand. In a blur, Tony was taken away, and Tim was moved to his bed. He was sitting there, not knowing what to do. Then, he remembered his dog.
"Jethro," Tim said and started trying to stand up again.
Gibbs held him down on the bed.
"They're taking care of him, too. He didn't get shot, either. Will you let me take the gun?"
Tim looked at his hand and saw the gun there. Instantly, he let it go and it fell to the floor. Then, he subsided and leaned back, letting Gibbs calm him down.
"No one should feel like that," Tim whispered. "Ever."
"You're right. They shouldn't and they won't. I promise."
"I didn't...hear a shot." He started to feel a little calmer.
Gibbs nodded.
"Can you tell me what happened?"
"A gun...pointed at my head." Tim felt the panic again.
Gibbs sat beside Tim and put an arm around his shoulders.
"It's all right. It's over now, Tim. It's not happening again. It's over."
"He wanted to know...how a freak like me could get in."
"That's what he said?" Gibbs asked.
Tim nodded. He wasn't looking at anyone or anything. He still felt afraid...but not as terrified as he had been before. He didn't know why.
"Agent Russell?"
Tim nodded again.
"He said I was a freak. An idiot."
"You're not."
"I was so afraid...afraid that... but Tony was bleeding."
"He didn't get shot."
"I saw him...on the floor...and Jethro on the floor... They were both bleeding."
"They didn't get shot."
Tim took a breath.
"He had the gun. It was pointing at me...but he didn't shoot me. He...kept asking me...kept calling me a freak...and then..."
"What?"
"He moved it away. I got the gun."
"How?"
"I don't know. I had it and I shot...like in the gallery...before. It was..." Tim looked at the floor where Tony and Jethro had been and he took another breath. Gibbs' arm tightened around him.
"You're all right."
"I had the gun. If I shot, he couldn't. So I shot. I kept shooting until the bullets were gone. He fell. He's dead."
"Yes, he is."
Tim nodded, but he wasn't asking. He had known by the emptiness in Russell's eyes. That emptiness was what he had felt. It was just that no one else had seen it. That was the sign of death. Real death. He closed his eyes at the memory he had. That emptiness that threatened to dump him off the edge of the world.
"Stay with me, Tim. It's okay."
Another breath.
"I killed him."
"Yes."
"He hurt Tony."
"Yes."
"And Jethro."
"Yeah."
"Should I feel bad?"
"No, and you're not in trouble for it."
"Okay." Tim looked at Gibbs, finally. "Tony needs to know that he's not dead."
"I'll tell him, myself," Gibbs said. "Once your parents get here, I'll go and tell him."
"Promise?"
"Yes."
"Okay."
Gibbs stayed where he was until the door opened again and Naomi rushed in, followed closely by Sam in his chair.
"Tim! They called us. Are you all right?"
Tim tensed a little, but he relaxed when he saw who it was. Naomi hugged him tightly, almost before Gibbs could move aside.
"He's dead, Mom. I killed him."
"It's going to be fine, Tim. It's going to be just fine."
Tim closed his eyes and let his mother comfort him. After a while, he fell asleep.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
The blood stain was still visible on the floor by the wall. Tim hadn't missed once. As soon as Tim was asleep, Gibbs bent over and picked up the gun he'd dropped. He checked the magazine.
Empty.
"What happened, Agent Gibbs?" Sam asked. "Was Tim telling the truth?"
Gibbs nodded.
"So far as we can tell. No one else was in the room except Tony and the dog. Both of them were injured. Tim didn't get hurt, but..."
"He's still...edgy," Naomi said softly. "We'll stay with him, but anyone from NCIS can come and see him if they want to. Is Tony all right?"
"Hope so."
"Go check," Sam said. "Then, we can say that you did when Tim asks."
Gibbs smiled and nodded.
He left Tim with his family and sought out where Tony had been taken. He found the room just as Tony was being wheeled in. He quickly walked over.
"How is he?" Gibbs asked.
The doctor paused and let the staff take Tony all the way in.
"There's some swelling, and we're going to keep him here to make sure that it doesn't get worse. So far, I think it's going to subside on its own. It was a hard blow from the gun, but it could have been a lot worse."
"He's not awake?"
"Not yet. He'll wake up on his own."
"If he doesn't?" Gibbs asked.
"I think your agent is going to be fine, but we're being careful because no one wants to be wrong about it. He got a hard knock. If you'd like to sit with him, feel free."
"Thanks."
Gibbs walked into the room. Tony was lying quietly. He didn't look too bad. Some stitches on his head, but he looked asleep, not comatose. He settled beside the bed to wait. The others at NCIS would have to know about what had happened here tonight, but he'd rather wait until Tony was awake. Abby would be fretting about all three involved. Ziva would come, even with food poisoning and try to pretend she felt fine, and Ducky...well, Ducky would probably do fine. However, immediate needs were more important. Bad news would always keep.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
There was something heavy on his head. Really heavy. He tried to get it off, but his hands seemed to be really heavy, too. He tried to open his eyes, but it appeared that the heavy weights were on his face, too. Who put all the weights on him? Why? What would be the point of that?
"You awake, DiNozzo?"
He thought about that.
"Who put weights on my face?" he asked.
There was a soft chuckle.
"No weights."
"You sure?"
"Yep."
Well, if that was the case, that meant he should be able to open his eyes. He struggled to do so.
He opened his eyes, and saw Gibbs there.
"Boss...what's going on?" he asked.
"What do you remember?"
"How long was I out?"
"A few hours. It's early in the morning."
"What happened?"
"What do you remember?"
"Uh...Ziva was sick and so I took her shift. Abby was there, but she left. Tim's parents left. Tim was asleep. So was Jethro. I had checked the hall. Everything was fine." Tony looked around. Obviously, he was in a hospital bed now, himself. "It wasn't fine, was it."
"No."
"Is Tim okay?" he asked. He started to sit up, but his head spun.
"Yeah. He's fine."
"What happened?"
"You don't remember getting hit?"
"By a car?" Tony asked in confusion. "How did it get in the room?"
Gibbs' chuckle told him that he'd just said something ridiculous. He thought about it for a moment and had to agree. He smiled.
"So what hit me?"
"The butt of a gun, so far as we can tell."
"Who?"
"Agent Russell."
"So...he got in, then? How?"
"Not sure, but he had twenty years of experience as an FBI agent. He knew all the procedures and how security works."
"Great." Tony took a breath and looked around the room, letting his brain get into a better gear. "Wait...you were using the past tense. On purpose?"
"Yeah."
Tony blinked a few times and focused on Gibbs. He didn't look too happy.
"What happened, Boss? You said that Tim is okay. I'm alive, too. ...Jethro?"
"He got hit, too, but he's fine. Better than you, actually."
"What's going on, Boss? It's not like you to be so...not...direct."
"Agent Russell is dead."
"Oh." Tony thought about that. "Who got him?"
"Tim did."
"Okay...my brain must not be working right, Boss, because I thought you just said that Tim got him."
"Yeah. That's what I said."
"Did he get a knife or something?"
"No. He shot him."
Tony laughed.
"No. You must be pulling my leg, Boss. Tim was freaking out at the mention of a gun. He wouldn't be shooting one."
"He did. Fifteen shots to the chest. Didn't miss once."
"Fifteen?"
"Full magazine. He couldn't stop once he started. Just like the only other time he's fired a gun since he got shot."
"Is he okay?"
"Yeah. Okay, but we'll have to see."
"I'm sorry, Boss. I screwed up. I should have see him coming."
"Maybe you did."
"Where did he hit me?"
"Side of the head."
"So...he got me from behind."
"Don't know that. Do you think you're dead?"
"Huh?"
Gibbs sighed. "Tim is afraid that you might think you're dead. He'll ask the first time he sees you."
"Why?"
"Because he saw you with blood on your head. He got shot in the head and thought he was dead."
"Oh. No. I'm not dead. Man, this sucks."
"Yeah."
"What do we do now?"
"You relax as much as you can. ...and we see what happens next."
Tony couldn't deny that he had the granddaddy of all headaches and that he wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep...but he was also worried. Tim had shot someone. Sure, he had shot a murderer, but still...
"Don't worry, Tony. We'll figure it out."
"You sure about that, Boss?"
"Yeah."
"Okay."
It hadn't been a pleasant way to wake up, but he was glad that Tim was okay.
Tony just hoped that Tim really was.