Part III: Vacation

Chapter 5

They pulled up to the unloading area and Tim sat looking at the airport entrance. He didn't seem excited to go.

"Am I going to be all right, Boss?"

"I'm sure you will." Someday. If you don't kill yourself first. Gibbs gave himself a mental headslap for that thought. Even if he wasn't saying it aloud, he shouldn't even be thinking it.

Tim took a deep breath and nodded.

"How did this happen?"

"I don't know."

"I have to go. I'll miss my flight. Abby would kill me if Jethro wound up all by himself in Portland."

"Remember, Tim, you can call if you need to talk it out."

"I remember." Tim opened the door and got out. Gibbs watched him walk into the airport. He didn't look back. Gibbs sighed and drove away. He could only wait now.

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

Two days later...

Jethro had finally forgiven him the kennel. Tim managed to smile at his eagerness to leave the hotel room. He'd been forced to give him a bath the day before, after Jethro had discovered the joys of frolicking in a freezing cold ocean. Tim had done nothing more than wade, himself. He wasn't crazy.

...am I?

Tim took a deep breath.

"Okay, Jethro. Ready to go to the beach?"

A few barks and Jethro had the leash in his mouth, nearly begging Tim to get going already.

"All right. All right. Give me a second." He took one last look in the backpack he'd loaded with the necessities for the day. "Let's see. I have my wallet, my card, water, snacks, my jacket, your ball, your food, your dish. I think I'm ready. Let's go."

He leaned down, clipped the leash to Jethro's collar and let himself be dragged out to the beach which was so conveniently located relative to his hotel. Today, however, he really wanted to get away from all human contact. There weren't too many tourists yet, but there were enough that he had decided that he was going to walk along the beach and find a place where he could just sit by himself...with Jethro doing his thing. Jethro wasn't an impediment to his plan as he would be happy anywhere along the beach. There was sun...for the moment. Off in the distance, clouds threatened to bring in a storm. That would make for some beautifully chaotic waves.

As soon as he got to the beach, Tim removed the leash and let Jethro run amok from the shoreline to the water to Tim and everywhere in between. Tim laughed at his antics and broke into a slow jog along the beach where the sand was wet and packed down. He was in good enough shape that he could maintain the slow pace for a long time. Gradually, the wide sandy beach began to show signs of roughness. The people who came for sand thinned and disappeared altogether as rocks began poking up amid the sandy stretches. In the ocean itself, large rocks jutted up toward heaven and the waves broke around them, the salty spray sparkling in the sunlight. Off to his right, the beach ended abruptly in low cliffs which, as he continued his steady jog, began to rise high above his head. Rocky crags, mostly an orangey sandstone, interrupted the sand with more frequency until, to Tim, it was almost like standing in the center of a stretch of mountains. He slowed to a walk, panting almost as loudly as Jethro who had easily kept up with him.

"How about it? Are you thirsty?" he asked.

Jethro didn't answer. ...thank goodness. Tim knew he'd definitely be crazy if his dog started talking to him. He walked for a few minutes, letting himself cool down. He looked back the way he'd come and saw no one around. He nodded to himself in quiet satisfaction and stopped.

He knelt on the ground and opened his bag. With Jethro slobbering beside him, he opened a bottle of water and poured about half of it into the dog dish. Jethro immediately began to lap it up while Tim took the other half for himself, settling himself on the sand to rest for a few minutes.

"This is beautiful, isn't it? I don't remember the beaches like this when I came before. Of course, I was only five or six at the time. I guess it's natural that I'd only remember the really exciting things...like the Alder glassblowing studio. I still remember that." Tim smiled in recollection. "Maybe I should have just gone to a stereotypical white sandy beach, sipped cocktails and laid out in the sun. ...but, Jethro, I don't think that would...would fix me. ...whatever is wrong."

He shook his head and looked at Jethro who had finished his water and was now panting in his face.

"Thank you. You want to play? I'm okay with that. Playing is easy." He fished in the bag and pulled out Jethro's ball. "Go get it!" He threw it as hard as he could up the beach and watched as the German shepherd dashed off to get it, showing that he was not at all worn out by the trek.

"I might need you to carry me back, you know," he warned as Jethro deposited the ball at his feet. "We came quite a ways."

Jethro barked and bounced in anticipation of another toss. Tim smiled and threw the ball again. As Jethro came running back, Tim felt a streak of mischief that he hadn't in a long time. He grabbed the ball when Jethro put it down and began to run with it, dribbling it on the sand and rocky spaces every so often, forcing Jethro to run after him. It was exhausting, but it was fun. Finally, Jethro seemed to tire of his master holding the ball so exclusively. He gave a huge leap...right onto Tim's chest, knocking him down onto the sand, nearly knocking the wind out of him. Tim dropped the ball in surprise and then grimaced as Jethro licked his face, trotted calmly over to the ball and picked it up, giving off the air of intense satisfaction in outwitting this childish human being.

Tim rolled over, rubbing his chest.

"That's what I get for teasing you, I guess," he said and looked back to where he'd dropped his bag. "Even if no one is here, I should probably keep an eye on my stuff. ...unless I could depend on you to take the guy down?"

Jethro continued his trot, nose in the air. Royalty could hardly have been more snooty. Tim chuckled and got up. The thought came to him, as he walked over to his abandoned bag...

What if someone did come and try to take my bag? Could I stop them? Would I?

A cloud passed over the sun, casting shadows over the area. Tim looked up and noticed that the clouds were much closer than they had been. The wind was picking up as well. He debated going back...and decided against it. He didn't want to go back yet. Instead, he settled on the sand and stared out at the ocean, the waves now crashing more furiously against the rocks. A flock of cormorants took off from the top of one of the rocks, calling loudly. Tim watched them fly away.

"Would I, Jethro?" Tim asked softly.

He sat there, thinking...but not sure what he was thinking...for a long time. Jethro finally gave in and trotted over to Tim, putting the ball at his feet. Tim didn't really notice. Jethro whined and nudged the ball closer. Still, Tim only stared out at the crashing waves which were slowly rising up the beach.

"I mean, I should. Why do I keep seeing their faces? ...and why do I keep seeing Agent Lee in my head?"

Jethro nudged the ball again and then sat patiently, accepting that Tim wasn't paying attention to him for the moment.

"I haven't thought of her in ages. What is she, Jethro? How am I supposed to think of her? Is she a traitor first or a hero first? She did what she did to save her sister. ...but what she did was commit murder and steal vital data. She was right, you know. I would have done...done anything for Sarah. I was just lucky that I didn't have to...but I would have. Celia...saved Sharon Bellows. All those people...and she was the one who gave up more of her life just to save a woman who shouldn't have been there in the first place."

The waves traveled further up the sand. One particularly large wave broke over top of the rock directly in front of Tim. Jethro was startled and stood up, pacing back and forth for a moment, but then, he sat again, placing his head on Tim's shoulder, panting in his ear.

"I can't get them out of my head, Jethro. I can't. They're in there, stuck in my head. There's a part of me that wants Judy to be released. She's not at risk to re-offend. She wouldn't. She never hurt me. Lopez was the worst...and even she was going through some sort of withdrawal when she sprayed me in the face. She was...she threatened to cut off my finger." Involuntarily, Tim rubbed the fingers of his right hand together. There had been an awful moment when that knife was actually touching his skin...and it hadn't seemed like a threat. It was reality.

"But she didn't do it. She listened to me. She stopped."

The water was nearly at his toes.

"Dr. Andrews said that I knew what the problem was."

Jethro wuffled in Tim's ear, but still received no response.

The sun was hidden behind the thickening dark clouds and the wind took a sudden cool turn as the front moved in.

"So...what's the problem?"

The wind whipped around through the standing sandstone rocks...and finally, a particularly strong gust brought with it a large wave that traveled up the beach...and swamped Tim, bringing him out of his thoughts with a cold, wet jolt.

"Oh, great!" he said loudly, jumping up, forcing Jethro back as he grabbed his backpack and ran back out of the path of the water. "Crap."

Jethro whined again.

"What?" Tim asked and then noticed that the ball was rolling slowly and surely into the ocean...and that Jethro was refusing to get it. "What's wrong? You loved the water yesterday. Granted it was sunny...but still..." Tim sighed as he saw Jethro back further away from the water, growling at it. "All right, I'll get it."

Tim began to wade through the water, figuring that he was already wet. He might as well not worry about that.

Jethro gave a whine-bark. Tim stopped and looked back.

"What is wrong?"

Jethro took a few steps forward, whined again and then stopped. Tim didn't always understand Jethro's attempts at communication but he could see Jethro was, for some reason, very anxious. He barked, high, sharp barks. Tim looked at the ball which was slipping away into the ocean.

"Come on, Jethro. Do you want your ball or not?" Tim asked, frustrated. He began to walk out into the water again...and was completely shocked when he felt Jethro jump up, grab the bag in his teeth and drag Tim backwards...down into the water. Then, before Tim could do anything else, the dog began to attempt to pull Tim backward, all the while whining with anxiety.

Tim was both angry and confused, but seeing as the large German shepherd was not letting go of him, he figured he'd acquiesce...now that he was totally soaked. He scrambled back out of the water and was just about to round on Jethro and lecture him when his gaze was caught by the receding water.

He hadn't noticed before, his mind being otherwise occupied, but the area right around the sandy stretch at which he'd chosen to stop was all rock and there was an abrupt drop, now standing above the water line, near the large stand of sandstone. The rocky region was pocked with smaller holes, most as large as his foot. Had he run out after Jethro's ball, he would have risked falling into that large hole and panicking or getting his foot caught in one of the smaller ones and being stuck.

In shock, he sank to his knees, all thought of haranguing his dog for getting him wet forgotten. Absently, not able to tear his gaze away from what could so easily have been a disaster, he reached out for Jethro and hugged the wet, smelly dog to him.

"Good dog, very good dog, Jethro. ...thank you."

Jethro's ears, which had been drooping at Tim's obvious ire, now raised. He panted hopefully.

"Very good dog." Tim said again. "You...you ready to go back?"

Jethro pulled back and barked, his good will completely restored.

"Okay. Let's go." Tim stood and began the long walk back to his hotel...but with quite a few glances back over his shoulder. He'd been so preoccupied by his thoughts of the women at the prison, by his own obsession with them that he had almost gotten himself killed. If Jethro hadn't been there...

...if the others hadn't been there...

The possibility of his own death was now, suddenly, very real to him...and he could not rid himself of the thought all the way back to the hotel.