Part III: Return

Chapter 8

Tim spent the last few days of his vacation on the beach again. The sun had come out and the temperature had gone up correspondingly. He tried not to think of anything beyond what he was doing in the moment, beyond his immediate concerns of making sure Jethro was entertained and keeping himself as content as possible. It was difficult if not impossible. All the things Gibbs had said to him, all the things he himself had said...it was too hard to remember them, too hard to think of them. This had not felt like a vacation. It was a long period of limbo, interspersed with bouts of anguish and confusion. He was actually relieved when the last day arrived and he could pack up and leave.

"Come on, Jethro, into the kennel," Tim said coaxingly. Jethro growled at him...and then, whimpered pitifully. "That's not going to work with me. You know why? There's no other way to get you back to DC. If you want me to leave you here, just say the word. Otherwise..." he pointed firmly at the kennel.

Jethro whined.

"Look, I know you don't like it, but it's only for a few hours. I won't be much more comfortable sitting in economy. Those seats are not made for anyone taller than five feet."

Jethro still looked at the kennel with distaste and snorted at it. Tim didn't really blame him for that. It was a large one, but it still kept a normally-active, large dog essentially immobile for hours at a time.

"Please, Jethro," Tim begged, kneeling in front of the German shepherd as if it was another person. He was vaguely embarrassed to find that he was nearly crying. "Please, I need to go home. I don't want to stay here anymore. I need to get back."

For a long moment, Jethro sat on his haunches, looking as though he would never move. Then, he moved onto all fours and trotted over to Tim. He nuzzled Tim's face and then got into the kennel.

"Thank you, Jethro," Tim said, wiping away a single tear as he stood. Quickly, he checked out of the hotel, got into his rental car and drove to Portland to catch his plane. Once he made sure Jethro was checked in, he walked to the gate...and waited. He was more than two hours early. ...and his mind was inexorably drawn back to his chaotic, confused thoughts.

When was the last time that he had not worried about the people he had investigated? When?

That security guard, the one who tasered me.

The people...the...the criminals who had come after that. The woman who stabbed Ducky, that guy from the hiatus days, even that crime boss guy. ...but there were so many extenuating circumstances...right?

Tim stood up and walked to the window. He stared at the gate where his plane would be shortly. He stared and suddenly thought of Jethro, so reluctant to get into his kennel...his prison.

Why am I punishing Jethro because I'm the one with the problem? He doesn't want to be in the kennel. He hates to be stuck in there. He hates it! I'd hate it. What if I had to be stuck in a small confined space like that for hours on end? What if someone made me do that? What if...

Tim became aware that he was crying. He didn't know why...but he felt himself start to tremble. He sat down...with effort, and pulled out his phone. He was freaking out, and he didn't know why. He needed to talk. Now. Not later. Not in a few hours. He was on the verge of screaming and he had to stop that from happening. He wouldn't be allowed on the plane if he started acting crazy.

"Gibbs' phone."

"Where's Gibbs?" Tim asked. "Why do you have Gibbs' phone, Tony?"

"McGee?"

"Where's Gibbs?"

"What's wrong, McGee?"

"I...I just...need to talk to him, okay?"

"He's in a meeting with Vance. What's up?"

"Nothing. Nothing."

"Hey, McGee, I'm not mad at you for hitting me in the face. You can talk to me, you know."

"No," Tim said, almost sobbing. "No, I can't."

"Why not? What's wrong? McGee, you're freaking me out."

"That makes two of us."

"Something happen?"

"No. Nothing."

"You need to talk to Gibbs?"

"Not if he's in a meeting. I'll...I'll be okay." Please, let me be okay.

"McGee, you don't sound okay. I'll get Gibbs."

"No! I..."

"McGee, you need to talk to Gibbs, he won't mind being interrupted."

"Not from a meeting, not if it's important."

"I'm walking up the stairs even as we speak. You have about thirty seconds to change my mind."

Tim started to cry into the phone, knowing that this would not change Tony's mind but unable to hold it back anymore. Tony would probably be okay to talk to, but Tim couldn't face the idea of having to explain things that Gibbs already knew. He withdrew into a discrete corner of the waiting area, trying to hide his breakdown. Tony, for his part, didn't say anything acknowledging Tim's tears. Instead, Tim heard muffled conversations.

"Yeah, I know, but it's important, okay? This is a phone call Gibbs needs to take."

A distant voice asked how urgent it was.

"I already told you it's important. Look, if you just let me tell Gibbs, he can decide and he can take it out on me if it's a problem."

The same voice seemed to be resigned.

"Thank you. ...Boss, phone for you."

Gibbs' voice...unintelligible, followed by Vance's questioning if this interruption was necessary.

"It's important, Boss. Really."

Tony must have been really close to Gibbs because Tim could now hear both sides of the conversation.

"Who is it, Tony?"

"It's McGee, Boss," Tony said, both of them were speaking in low voices, but very close to the receiver. "He sounds really freaked out."

"Give it to me. I do need to take this, Director."

Vance's voice was accepting.

"What is it, McGee? What's going on? Shouldn't you be on your way back?"

"I'm sorry, Boss. I'm really sorry. It's during the day and I shouldn't have called, but I'm just...I don't know why, but I'm..."

"Slow down, Tim. What's wrong?"

"I'm freaking out...because Jethro's in a cage, stuck there for so long...and I can't do anything about it. He hates it. He hates being in there. I know he does, but I forced him in anyway. I feel like I'm going to start screaming, Boss. I don't know why."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't!"

"Yes, Tim, you do. You know what the problem is."

"Then, what do I know?"

"I'm not going to tell you. You tell me. What were you thinking about?"

"Them."

"Who?"

"The people we arrest. They get stuck in prison...even if there were reasons for what they did, even if they weren't all bad. Look at Ducky! He did what he did because he–"

"Whoa, Tim. Do not go there. Don't even think about comparing Ducky to the people we arrest."

"Why not? He...He still could...it's... What about Jethro?" Tim said as he slid down the window to the floor of the terminal.

"What about him? You traveled out there with Jethro in the same situation."

"He hated it. I didn't give him a choice. He had no choice. He just had to do it. He only went in this time because I begged him to. I just want to go back, to get away from...from...all this time I have to think. I need to be busy. I need to–"

"What you need to do, Tim, is stop avoiding the problem. Stop trying to make other people do your thinking for you. Just face it! Now! ...before they keep you from getting on the plane because you're acting like a nut."

"I feel crazy."

"Why?"

"Because I'm worrying about a dog."

"Why are you worrying about a dog?"

"I...don't know."

"Yes, you do."

"Because...he..." Tim looked out the window...and met the gaze of a worker who was staring at him from a stairwell. The light must have been just right so that he could see through the tinted windows. Tim turned resolutely away from the concerned expression. "...he's in a prison. I don't want him to be in a prison, Boss. It's so...it's so hard. You can't get out. You know you can't. You know just how long you have. Sometimes...sometimes, the end of it is more than likely going to be your death. It's a life sentence."

"Tim..."

"It's just so hard. I was only there for a day...and it felt like years. It felt like my life might end at any moment because of...of them or because of the people on the outside who were making decisions that I could do nothing about. I just had to sit there and hope. They don't even have hope, Boss. They're just in there...and they have to take it. They have to face death...from other inmates or from the people who put them there. From people like me...the people who take away their choices. We take them away from the world...we put them in a little cage...and we let them wait to die." Tim took a shuddering breath. "At the end...at the end, I knew it was over. I knew they were coming in. I knew the procedures. I knew what to expect. You told me what would happen. I knew if they came in firing, I'd be dead...and so would they...Judy, Sharon, Celia. I just wanted it to be over. I just wanted to get out. I was ready to turn Sharon over, even though she was the least at fault."

"She was guilty, Tim."

"She killed him, but she wasn't guilty. ...but she still had to stay in prison. After all that..."

"Tim, it's not like that."

"Yes, it is! I know it is! I know because I've...I've felt the same way. ...and I didn't want Louisa to feel that."

"Were you trying to get her killed? To keep her from going to prison?"

"No! No, Boss. I wasn't. I swear! She wouldn't have gone to prison. She needed help. I just wanted to help her...and I couldn't do it. I couldn't help her. I couldn't arrest her. I couldn't save her from...from that."

"Tim...can you see it now? The problem?"

"I...I don't want them to go to prison, even though they're guilty. I don't want people to feel that way. So...helpless...hopeless."

"Guess what, Tim. Jethro won't feel that way. Oh, he might resent the kennel for a while, but he doesn't feel trapped. He knows you'll be coming to get him...because you're a good person. There's another thing you've forgotten."

"What?"

"The choices they make. Before you...before we make an arrest, we do the best we can to gather the information to lead us to the right person."

"But what–?"

"Let me finish. These people, from the guy who killed Erin Kendall to Det. Archer to Agent Lee to Judy Williams. They made a decision, a decision that ended other people's lives. They made a choice well before we arrested them. In a way, what they've done is taken away our choices. Once the crime has been committed, we have to help get justice for the victims. We have to."

"But we don't always. We let Celia take the blame for killing Trimble. How is that justice?"

"Tim, there are some places where we can actually make choices, sometimes when real justice is harder to see."

"But..."

"I understand, Tim. I really do, and I wish I could make all this clear for you...but it's not clear. It's something you already know, but it's been...buried beneath all this other stuff."

"Boss...I...I feel so...so stupid."

"Why?"

"Because I can't seem to think like a normal human being."

"That's not the problem, Tim. The problem is that you did think like a normal human being...and now, like a normal human being, you're trying to deal with the fallout."

"I don't get it."

"When you get back, we can talk more. I think we've reached the limits of telephone conversation. Besides, I'm no shrink, and I'm sure Dr. Andrews would be more help."

Tim swallowed. "Boss..." he said tentatively. "At the risk of sounding like a complete imbecile, are you sure that Jethro doesn't f-feel like he's in a cage?"

"I'm sure, Tim. He won't like it, but he trusts you. He loves you...like all dogs love their owners. It's a dog thing."

Tim gave a watery laugh.

"Don't miss your flight for this."

"I won't. I was early."

"I'll be there to get you."

"Thanks...thanks, Boss."

"Just get back here, Tim. Take things one step at a time. The first step is getting on that plane."

"Right," Tim said. He took a deep breath. "I can do that."

"Good. See you in a few hours."

"Yeah. Thanks, Boss...and..."

"Don't apologize."

"Bye."

"See ya later, McGee."

Tim hung up and walked back out of his secluded corner, wiping away the tears. He forced himself to sit and wait...and when the boarding call was made about an hour later, he got on the plane.

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

Gibbs hung up with a long sigh. That had been harder than the last call...and he hadn't thought it was possible.

"Boss?"

Gibbs looked up. Tony and Ziva were both staring at him worriedly.

"What's wrong with McGee?" Tony asked.

"Just some backlash."

"From what?" Ziva asked. "From the Grover case?"

"No, before that."

"Then, what?" Tony asked. "He was crying, Boss."

Gibbs sighed again. There was no keeping it from Tony and Ziva...and to be honest, if...no, when Tim came back, they'd have to know why he would be kept out of the field for a while, why there would be precautions taken.

"It's residual trauma from being a hostage at the prison."

"He did not seem traumatized by it at the time," Ziva pointed out. "He was fine."

"Yeah. He seemed like he was fine. He wasn't."

"Trauma how? Like...afraid of the prisoners and stuff like that?"

"Like...caring about the prisoners more than about you, DiNozzo."

There was a moment of silence as they digested the implications of the seemingly light response.

"Stockholm Syndrome, yes?" Ziva asked.

"Like Kate and Ari," Tony said softly.

"Not exactly," Gibbs said and then let out the third sigh in as many minutes. "...but probably pretty close."

"What do we do?"

"Wait...and give him the help he needs."

"What help is that?"

"When I've figured that out, I'll let you know. In the meantime, we have work to do." Gibbs stood and remounted the stairs. He still had that meeting with Vance...which had been, ironically, about Tim. At least he could report some progress now...even if it wasn't enough to have him back at work tomorrow.

Tim had survived his vacation...and perhaps made a few strides in the right direction.

Gibbs felt himself want to sigh again. He looked around. He was alone.

He sighed.