Chapter 19

Ducky took a breath and started the difficult process.

"Jethro told me about his feelings about your living situation."

Tim started to stand up.

"I don't want to live somewhere else! That's my home!" he said loudly.

"Timothy, please. Will you just listen?" Ducky asked, keeping his voice calm. "Neither myself nor Jethro are going to force you into anything. We just want you to hear why we've been thinking about it."

"Both of you?" Tim asked, sounding hurt and betrayed.

"Yes. Both of us, because Jethro has been staying with you and he saw things that told him it might be time to think about making changes, and he wanted my thoughts. When he explained it to me, I agreed with him."

"Without hearing my side of it? What have I done wrong?" Tim asked, sounding plaintive. "I take good care of Jethro, and I keep my apartment clean."

"You're not doing anything wrong, Timothy," Ducky said quickly. "It's not about right and wrong. It's about what would be best for you."

"And I don't get to decide that?" Tim demanded, getting to his feet. "I don't need you to decide for me! I am completely capable of taking care of myself! I am..."

"Timothy," Ducky said gently. "Will you listen?"

Tim looked nothing less than sullen, but he sat down again. Jethro looked worried and licked at Tim's hand. Tim smiled a little and patted his head.

"Will you listen?"

"Yeah."

Once again, Ducky marveled at how much Jethro (the dog) seemed to help Tim's state of mind. He was calmer, more rational with the dog by him. With a little extra training, he would be perfect as a psychiatric guide dog for Tim.

"Timothy, the reason for our concern is because we've now seen just how easy it is for you to become disoriented. Now, granted, what happened to you was extreme, but your reaction to it was much more extreme. We've all known for a long time that you get lost easily, that you need a routine...but, Timothy, you were so disoriented that you didn't even recognize us! You were so panicked, so lost in your mind that we had to have you sedated to calm you down. That was from having your routine disturbed and from an admittedly-frightening threat to your life."

Tim looked at the ground and said nothing.

"Two years ago, we faced the very real possibility of losing you when you were shot. Then, we faced the possibility that you would never regain your sanity when you were lost in your delusion. We have been so happy to have you back, and then, we were once again confronted with the possibility that you would be gone, not through physical injury but from mental breakdown. We don't want to lose you again, Timothy."

Tim still wouldn't look up.

"There's no reason to think that this would happen again."

"Perhaps not this. I agree that it's unlikely. But what Jethro has discovered is how strictly you must regiment your life in order to live independently. Everything exactly in order."

"There's nothing wrong with that!" Tim said.

"No, if that's what works, it's what works. I'm not saying you should learn to live as a slob," Ducky said with a smile. He tried to catch Tim's eye, but Tim refused to look up from the ground. "But when that is what keeps you functioning, when the loss of that destroys your grip on reality... What is troubling is the all-too-real possibility that something might happen that is less serious that will still lead to your being disoriented. Can you deny that you've had trouble remembering when to get off the Metro?"

Tim said nothing.

"Timothy?"

"No."

"So far, nothing has come of it, something that is a great relief to all of us, but what if that changes? What if you suddenly forget to get off the subway and end up lost? Would you have the presence of mind to call for help? Would you wander around until you got back? And even if you could get back easily, do you want to face that happening? Have you had moments that you never told us about? Times when you forgot something and ended up not where you planned?"

There was a silence.

"I tried to go into the wrong apartment once," Tim said softly. "It was my neighbor's door."

"And that was probably a little embarrassing, wasn't it."

"Yeah."

"The other thing that worries us is that you face such disorientations in the mornings, that it's the norm for you, not the exception but the norm. That isn't something you told us. We only knew that you had days that, in your words felt weird. Some were to the point that you needed help getting home. Timothy, can't you see how dangerous this could be for you? We shouldn't have let it get to this point before. Perhaps we could have kept this from happening if we had suggested that you not live alone."

"It's my home," Tim said. "I don't want to leave my home."

"I understand that. Really, I do, but there's something to be said for being safe."

Tim shook his head and looked at Ducky. He seemed more distressed than Ducky would have thought.

"It's my home, Ducky," Tim said. "It's part of me. Living there is me."

And Ducky suddenly saw another tendril of Tim's changes. Did he really define himself by where he lived? Even in part?

"Timothy, where you live isn't who you are."

"Isn't it?" Tim asked, rubbing at his scar. "It was my home before and after this. It has who I am in it."

"No, Timothy," Ducky said, taking hold of Tim's arm. "No. If it has anything of you in it, it's because you are there. If you were somewhere else, then, you would be in that other place."

"I don't want to be not me," Tim said. "I don't want to be someone else."

"You wouldn't be," Ducky said. "Timothy, you will always be yourself, no matter where you are."

Tim was definitely bothered. "But, Ducky, I was in the hospital and I...I couldn't really feel who I was. I had to look in the mirror. It wasn't until I came home again that I felt like me...all the way."

"Because of your routine, because you wanted to get out of the hospital, not because your life is defined by your home."

How had this happened? Ducky couldn't figure out how or when Tim had decided that he had to live in his apartment in order to be himself.

"I don't want to lose myself, Ducky! I don't want to be lost again...by giving up who I am!"

"You wouldn't."

"You can't know that!"

Tim was getting worked up again, and Ducky knew how much harder it was for him to think clearly when he was upset.

"Timothy, are you listening?"

"No!"

"Please, Timothy, let me finish. You need to hear what I'm saying."

Tim shook his head, stood and started to leave. The last thing Ducky wanted was for Tim to go away from this feeling like his friends didn't care about what he wanted and were trying to force him to change.

"Timothy, don't go. Not like this."

Tim stopped but didn't turn back.

"Timothy, the only reason Jethro and I are doing this is because we care. What matters is that you are safe and happy. I wouldn't be talking to you like this if I wasn't worried, if I wasn't willing to risk your anger in order to help you."

Jethro started whining at Tim's feet. Ducky stood and walked over to Tim. Based on Jethro's reaction, he was unsurprised to see Tim crying, even if he didn't understand what had brought on the tears this time. He put an arm around Tim's shoulders and guided him back to the bench. That meant some patience while Tim calmed down. Otherwise, the conversation would be wasted. It wasn't a panicked sob. Just tears.

After a couple of minutes, Tim's tears ebbed.

"I want to be me, Ducky. I want to be me," Tim whispered.

"You are. No one can take your identity from you."

"But they can. They have...and I don't want to lose who I am. I don't want to give up the life I used to have," Tim said. The tears began flowing again. "I had to give up my car because I can't drive. I had to give up my job because I can't handle it. I had to give up the way I lived before because I can't do it. I'm losing pieces of me and...and...I'm afraid that I can't lose any more and be me."

"Oh, Timothy," Ducky said with a bit of a smile. He hugged Tim tightly. "No. That's not you. Those things are just...things. They're outside of you. They don't define you. Timothy McGee is much more than his car, his job, his habits...his home. Timothy McGee is a good man, a kind man, someone who has faced more challenges in a couple of years than most people do their entire lives and he's managed to survive and thrive in spite of those challenges. He has a special view of the world that can't be duplicated. He has skills that are beyond my ability to comprehend. Most of all, he is my friend and he has many friends and family who care about him. That's you, not your home or your car."

Tim quieted and sat with Ducky's comforting arms around him for a little while.

"Please understand that we're not going to force you to do anything you really don't want to do," Ducky said when he judged that Tim was calm enough to hear him. "All we want is for you to think about it, give it a genuine chance. If, after you've thought about it, you still say no, then, we'll drop it."

"No one else will," Tim said softly. "They'll keep bringing it up."

"No, because no one else knows. Jethro and I are the only ones...well, and your doctor. We spoke to Dr. Khalid first because we wanted to be sure that this was something that needed discussion before we started it. He agreed. Beyond that, no one else has been told."

Tim sat up and glanced at him briefly.

"How long are you going to give me to think about it?"

"However long you need. I only ask that you tell us once you've done so."

Tim took a deep breath and stared at NCIS.

"What if I say no?"

"Then, we'll accept it and try to help you figure out plans to keep from leading back to what you have already experienced."

"Really?"

"I promise."

"And Gibbs?"

"He will do the same."

Tim was quiet again.

"Why did you do this now?"

"Because, believe it or not, Timothy, we respect your privacy and your right to decide."

"What do you mean?"

"Jethro is only going to stay in your apartment this week. Then, Tony is going to take a turn. He would see the same thing Jethro has and he might not be able to keep it to himself. He might push more than you were willing to take. We wanted you to be able to think about it without that kind of pressure."

Tim nodded.

"Will you think about it, Timothy? At least consider the idea? That's all I ask."

Tim looked at him and then back at NCIS again. Finally, he nodded.

"I will." He took a deep breath. "I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Very well. We can be done today, then. ...and until you're ready to talk about it again."

"Okay."

Tim sat for a few more minutes in silence. Then, he got up and walked into the building without looking back at Ducky. Ducky watched him go. That conversation would hopefully be the worst of it. Logically, Ducky knew that Gibbs was right. Tim shouldn't be living alone. He shouldn't have been living alone before, but they all had not realized just what Tim's life had to be like to keep him in his apartment.

However, Tim's fear was not something to ignore. He needed to learn that his life was so much more than the external trappings...but if he couldn't learn that, then, he would be miserable if he moved. Ducky hoped that the conversation today had helped.

Only time would tell.

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

Tim sat alone in his office...well, alone except for his dog. He couldn't forget what Ducky had said, what Gibbs had tried to say. Once the suggestion had been made, Tim couldn't ignore it.

The rest of the day passed without his noticing the time. He was staring up at the ceiling, watching the patterns move around the ceiling.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. Tim sat up.

"Come in."

Gibbs opened the door.

"Are you ready to go, Tim?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Let's go."

The computer was already off; so Tim just grabbed his bag and then, with Jethro trotting along beside him, they left NCIS.

All the way home, Tim expected Gibbs to say something. No matter what Ducky had claimed, Tim expected Gibbs to talk about it more, to force Tim to do something.

...but he didn't.

In fact, the ride home was silent. Gibbs parked his car in Tim's space and they walked up to his apartment.

"How was your first day back?" he asked.

"I didn't do much."

"Fornell was glad you were back."

"That only took a minute."

"It's more than they could do. They found the information they needed. They're not going to ask you to show them around."

"Good."

Gibbs went to the space where he kept his sleeping bag and the small bedroll. He'd refused an air bed. Tim took Jethro out for a last walk, looking around at the familiar sights, relying on Jethro to keep him on track.

...and then, he realized what he was doing. He couldn't focus on his thoughts and the space around him at the same time. It was just impossible...and that was something that had changed in him from before. What if Jethro was hurt or ran away?

Could I get back home again?

Tim didn't like that thought. He didn't like the sudden, exposed feeling he had. Jethro seemed to sense it and he didn't linger. Instead, he tugged on the leash and led them back home. When Tim came in, he looked around at his things. They were his, no one else's. This space was small, cramped...but it was his own.

"Tim? You all right?"

Tim looked over at Gibbs, the part that didn't belong in this space, and he nodded. Then, he walked into his bedroom, got ready and got into bed. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling.

My ceiling.

In his bed.

My bed.

Jethro climbed onto the bed and lay his head on Tim's chest. The weight was comforting.

How can I leave this familiar, safe space?

But how safe was it, really? He had been taken from his home because he hadn't been able to conceive of protesting the abduction.

This is my home.

But he hadn't always lived here. There were other places that had been his home before, even as a child.

Time passed without his noticing. He wasn't really asleep, but he wasn't quite awake, either. He was in that space between the two, that space that had no real form or substance. It was just...thought.

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

"Boss?"

Gibbs heard the voice, soft as it was. It penetrated his sleep and made him wonder if he'd managed to oversleep even with the less-than-ideal conditions.

"Boss?"

He opened his eyes. It was still dark. He hadn't overslept, then.

"Boss?"

He rolled over. There was Tim, crouched on the floor beside him, looking at him. Gibbs couldn't see his eyes, but he could imagine the expression in them.

"What is it, Tim?"

"This is my home. Where would I go if I left it?"

"What? What time is it, Tim?"

"I don't know. It's dark," Tim said, unnecessarily. "I was thinking."

"Of course, you were," he grumbled and shifted into a sitting position.

"Where would I go?"

Gibbs understood the question, but... He looked at his watch and stifled a sigh. Just after three in the morning.

"Tim, do you need an answer right now?"

"Yes."

So much for that. Gibbs yawned.

"Okay. Then, how about I turn on a light?"

"No. I don't want any light right now."

"Why not?"

"I just don't. Where would I go?"

Chalking that up to one of Tim's incomprehensible quirks, Gibbs accepted it.

"There are lots of options."

"Like what?"

"Ducky said that there are group homes for people who need some help but still want to be independent. There's also the possibility of advertising for a roommate."

"Living with a stranger?" Tim asked.

"Yeah, but they wouldn't stay strangers."

"But I would stay that way for them."

"What?"

"My friends think I'm strange. Someone I don't know at all wouldn't ever get past that. Are those the only options?"

"No. Ducky and I also thought that you might want to move in with one of us."

"One of you?"

"We have the room to spare. Of course, I'm sure that Tony or Ziva or Abby would be willing as well if we asked them. Do you want us to ask?"

"No."

"Tim, why now?"

"Because I was thinking about it. Ducky asked me to."

"Have you decided?"

Could it really be that simple?

"No. I just wanted to ask. Thanks, Boss. I'm going back to bed. Maybe I'll really sleep now. Maybe the patterns will make more sense."

Then, Tim stood up and walked into his bedroom. Gibbs stared at the now-closed door. At least, Tim was thinking about it.

...but what was he thinking?