Chapter 16
Jimmy was standing outside the door to Tim's room. He didn't want to see Tim in that state of near-insanity, but he'd been not coming and it was time to show up.
He took a breath and knocked softly on the door. Then, he peeked in the window and saw Tim looking at him with a questioning expression. Jimmy opened the door.
"Hey, Tim. I just thought I'd stop by before work. How's it going?"
Tim's eyes slid from Jimmy to a space on the floor.
"They cleaned it up while I was asleep...but I can still see it."
"See what?" Jimmy asked.
"The blood."
"Oh...uh..."
Tim looked at him again.
"It's okay, Jimmy. You don't have to try to make me feel better. I won't. Not right now. I'm not supposed to think about it until I can...be okay again."
"How are you doing on that?"
"I'm better than I was."
"That's good."
"Mom felt like she could take a break. So that's good. She was here with me all night."
"You've never been alone here."
Tim nodded.
"I know. I'm glad because I was falling off the world again and that hasn't happened for a long time."
"What do you mean?"
"The feeling. I can't explain it any other way. I feel like the world is tipping over and I'm falling off it. I was feeling that before, but I'm not really right now."
"I'm glad."
Tim looked at the space where he said there had been blood. His gaze lingered there for about a minute.
"I shot someone."
"He deserved it."
"Yes...but I shot him. I killed him."
Tim closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Jimmy could see him starting to worry. He hurried over and grabbed Tim's arm.
"It's okay."
Tim managed to smile a little, but he was very tense.
"Is Tony okay?"
"As far as I know. I stopped by yesterday and he was bored. Why?"
"He doesn't think he's dead?"
"No. Why would he?"
"He got hit in the head."
"But not with a bullet and what happened to you was so rare that no one even realized that there was something that could explain how you felt. The odds of it happening to him, too, are astronomically small."
"Doesn't matter."
This is when Jimmy hated to see Tim. It reminded him too much of the reasons for Tim's problems. No matter how many times he told himself that Tim didn't blame him for what had happened, that it really wasn't his fault, he felt a little responsible for it. The challenges Tim still faced and would face for the rest of his life were because he had been shot while trying to protect Jimmy and Ducky. Most people wouldn't have to be constantly reassured that they weren't falling off the world simply because someone had fired a weapon in their presence.
...and yet, Tim didn't seem to notice how much he'd changed most of the time. He went on with his life without thinking about it...or maybe, he just couldn't be aware of something like that. Maybe it was beyond his mental capacity to compare then to now. Jimmy didn't know because he didn't ask. It seemed callous to try and get at how much Tim realized he had changed, just for his curiosity.
After a couple of minutes, Tim opened his eyes.
"You're sure he's okay?"
"Yeah. Positive," Jimmy said.
"Really sure?" He closed his eyes again.
"Absolutely, Tim."
The door opened behind him.
"I'm trying to believe you," Tim said. "It's just hard."
"I know."
"I'm fine, Tim."
Tim's eyes opened and Jimmy turned. Tony was standing there with his usual almost-fake smile.
"You don't think you're dead?" he asked, just as earnest as he'd been when asking Jimmy.
"No, of course not."
"I really didn't want you to feel that," Tim said.
"I don't. Honest, Tim, I don't feel that at all."
Tim's eyes welled up with tears. Crying again. Jimmy could see that Tony was uncomfortable. He was, too, but Tim seemed completely unabashed at crying over this.
"No one should. No one. Ever. And I saw you on the floor and I was afraid. I kept telling you that you weren't dead so that you wouldn't think you were."
"Hey, I'm not thinking that. It's okay, Tim. Really, it is. I'm fine."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes!"
Tim quickly wiped at the tears on his cheeks.
"I know. I'm being stupid again. It's like when I was afraid that Gibbs was mad at me all the time. I just can't...stop worrying about it."
He closed his eyes and kept crying. Tony looked at Jimmy and seemed momentarily helpless. Then, he took a breath and walked over. He sat down on the bed, took another breath and hugged Tim.
"Listen to me, Tim. I don't think I'm dead. I don't have to deal with what you did. You don't have to worry about me. Not at all. Everything is going to be all right. I promise."
Tim was breathing heavily as he tried to get himself in control again.
"I want to go home," he whispered. "I want to go back to work. I want...my life back."
Jimmy saw Tony's expression. It was concerned although he didn't know why.
"You will...not yet, though. They need to make sure that you're okay, first. Once they're sure, you'll go home. You know you're not ready yet."
"I just can't find...balance. I can't be the way I was before and everything was fine, but it's not fine. It's not fine. I shot someone. I shot someone!"
"Yeah, you did. You saved your life and you saved my life. ...and that...he deserved it, Tim. If he made you feel this way, he deserved to be shot. In fact, I wish I could have shot him a few times myself. You just need to calm down and listen to everyone. We're all telling you that it's okay."
"I'm not," Tim said softly.
"You're not what?"
"I'm not telling me that."
"Why?" Tony asked, sounding a little impatient.
"Because...I don't know how to believe it."
"You can believe it. I promise. I'm fine. You'll be fine. And the trouble is over."
Even so, Tim didn't relax.
...until he seemed to fall asleep.
After he had stilled, Tony let him go and sighed.
"I don't know what to do," he said softly.
"Does anyone?" Jimmy asked. "Even Tim doesn't know what to do...and it's his life."
"But is it really? Should we expect him to know what to do?"
"Yeah. We should," Jimmy said, in surprise.
Tony raised an eyebrow.
"We should?"
"Tim has always understood his own mind. He just can't explain it to us anymore. The difference between then and now isn't that Tim doesn't know himself. It's just that he can't help us understand him now. I think if we let Tim do more of what he thinks is right, he'd probably be better off."
"Like when you stopped him from jumping off the roof?"
"That was different," Jimmy said, feeling a bit stung. "And you know it. Tim wasn't in his right mind then. He really is close to it now. He's not hiding anymore. He's not catatonic. He's not having a breakdown. He's just a little overwhelmed by everything that's happened in the last few days. That doesn't mean we can't trust him. We can trust him, Tony. I think we need to trust him more."
"How much more?"
"As much as we can," Jimmy said, feeling more certain that he was right. "Tim is different, and that means that we need to realize that he's different...and not try to make him into what he can't be."
Tony was quiet for a few seconds. He looked at Tim's sleeping form and then back at Jimmy. To Jimmy's surprise, he smiled.
"When did you get so smart, Black Lung?"
Jimmy grinned.
"I've been listening to Dr. Mallard. ...but I'm not perfect. It's hard for me to come here to visit him. When he's like this, I can't help but blame myself because I remember how he was and I wish he would be that way again. Dr. Mallard says that I shouldn't think that way and most of the time, I don't anymore, but still...sometimes..." He shrugged. "But, logically, I know that I'm wrong, and I know that Tim doesn't blame me. ...and I should trust him."
Then, Jimmy looked at his watch. He needed to get to work.
"I have to go. Dr. Mallard won't be happy if I'm late, even if I was here."
Tony laughed.
"Go on. I can stay. I'm not allowed back yet, anyway."
Jimmy smiled and left with one last look at Tim. He somehow felt better now than he had when he came...and it wasn't so much because of anything Tim had done but because he'd been forced to acknowledge reality, to admit out loud how things were. Strange how that helped.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Tim hadn't fallen asleep, but he had calmed with the physical contact that kept him from losing his balance.
Then, he had heard Tony and Jimmy speaking so quietly that they were almost whispering. If he had been any more worried, Tim wouldn't have been able to focus on what they were saying enough to understand the words.
...but he had understood them.
...as much as he could anyway. What Tony said...well, that wasn't a surprise. He knew that Tony had a hard time accepting the way he was. Actually, Tim was grateful that Tony didn't give up when Tim couldn't be what Tony wanted him to be.
When Jimmy had said that they should trust Tim, Tim had almost opened his eyes, had almost sat up and asked if he really meant it.
...but Jimmy had no way of knowing that Tim was awake, not asleep. Tim had a hard time keeping his eyes closed and listening to people. Looking at them helped him focus. Jimmy wouldn't expect Tim to be awake and listening.
...so it must be the truth. Jimmy thought that Tim should be trusted. Jimmy didn't think that he was crazy. He was different. Yes, he was. Tim knew that, of course. He wondered what he should do. If he was trustworthy, what did that mean for him?
Somewhere in his attempt to think about it, he fell asleep for real.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
He woke up and it was dark and quiet. He opened his eyes and smiled.
His mom was there again. He hadn't heard her come in. He hadn't thought that he was that tired. Still, he sat up. He was awake now. Very awake. In fact, his mind was surging with thoughts. So many thoughts that he couldn't keep up with them.
At one moment, he was thinking about killing Agent Russell. At another, he was thinking about Tony lying on the floor, bleeding. Then, his mind was off to Jethro. Then, to the idea that he wanted to get back to work. Then, he thought about the gun in his desk. Then, the stain on the floor. Then, back to the idea that he wanted to go back to NCIS. His mind jumped around so much, but it kept coming back to NCIS. He really wanted to get back to his life, the life he'd managed to make even after getting shot in the head.
Tim looked at his mother. It was nice having her here, but he also knew that they couldn't stay here forever.
He got up and went into the bathroom again. He closed the door and turned on the light.
...and he stared at himself in the mirror.
"I'm Tim McGee," he whispered. "I'm still Tim McGee."
The man he could see in the mirror did look a lot like the Tim McGee he had been. That scar, though. It made him different. Different from himself and different from everybody else. He rubbed his fingers over the scar.
Did he wish he had died?
Tim actually thought about that. It was hard to think about that because thinking about whether or not he wanted to be dead, inevitably, led him to thinking about the time when he had believed he was dead. It was hard to think around that, think past it, avoid the fear of it.
To help, he kept staring at himself. He was clearly alive in the mirror.
After a few minutes of staring at himself in the mirror, he came to a conclusion.
"No. I don't want to be dead. Not yet."
That mattered. It mattered a lot because it meant that there was more to him than just that he hadn't died.
Had he known this before all the chaos of the last little while? Tim actually wasn't sure. Probably, he had. Things got jumbled up in his mind, though. It was hard to remember. Maybe when it wasn't so...so close, so real, so immediate. Maybe then, he would be able to remember.
There was more than this place. More than being in the hospital.
He kept staring at himself.
"I'm Tim McGee," he said again.
He continued to stare.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Naomi woke up and saw that Tim was not in his bed. She worried a little, but saw the light on in the bathroom. Was Tim looking at himself in the mirror again? She wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
Keeping herself calm, she walked over and knocked.
"Tim? Are you in there?"
"Yes."
The door opened. Tim had an expression of determination on his face. The last time she'd seen him like this was when he had decided to go back to DC and ask the people at NCIS if they were willing to be friends with him still. It had taken a lot of effort and he had struggled with it, but it had been a good decision. Seeing that expression now made her think that Tim was making another good decision.
"What is it, Tim?" she asked.
"I want to go back to work," Tim said. "I don't want to stay here anymore. I want to go back to NCIS."