Chapter 11
It took most of the day and far into the night to finish the initial investigation. Even when NCIS left the scene, the NPD was there keeping order, continuing to gather information. Alex's team would be on hand since they were based at Norfolk. Four had been killed in the takedown. Two in the process of intercepting the shipment, one of the head honchos and then Jewel. Four agents and two officers had been injured. All in all, it had been extremely successful.
So...why did it feel like a colossal failure?
Ziva could answer that question just by looking out toward the street where Tim sat calmly, staring at the crowds which had gathered in the hours since the initial takedown. He seemed utterly unconcerned. Tony was paying a visit to the local ER to make sure that his nose wasn't really broken. Gibbs was working with Lovitz to make sure everything was in order before they left.
...and Tim just sat where he was. Not moving, not shifting anxiously. No self-conscious glances toward the building, anticipating Gibbs' approach. There was no indication that he thought he was in trouble...or if he did think he was in trouble, he wasn't particularly worried about that fact. He didn't seem to care.
What had happened? Tony had been callous, speaking as he had, but it was no worse than a hundred other things he'd said (or more). What had caused Tim to fly off the handle like that? Was it killing Jewel? Perhaps. More than likely, it was a result of his long time undercover. She knew from personal experience that it was sometimes hard to let go of the created personality. Tony knew that as well.
...but she had never before been afraid of Tim. In that moment when he had grabbed her wrist, she had been afraid...because it hadn't been Tim she was seeing...but at the same time it was. Although the comparison had been immediately dismissed, Ziva couldn't forget that, at that moment, Tim had reminded her of Ari...just before she had been forced to kill him. It had been like listening to a stranger speaking with the voice of her brother.
"Ziva, are you finished?"
"Yes, Gibbs. Have you spoken to Tony?"
Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Yes. His nose isn't broken, just bloody. He's on his way back now."
"Gibbs..."
"Let's wait."
"For what? For McGee to hit one of us next?"
"No, for him to have some time to come out of the operation. He deserves a day or two to see if that's all it is."
"And if it is not?"
"Then, we'll deal with that when it happens."
Ziva shook her head. "I do not think that will be enough. I have never seen McGee as he was when he hit Tony."
"It wasn't McGee. It was MacKay."
"That is more worrisome. Did you not see his face when you asked him for his gun?"
"I saw, and I heard. Ending an op is never easy. We'll make sure that he's coming out of it okay. If he's not, we'll deal with it."
Ziva watched Gibbs walk away and felt no better. How had they missed this kind of disgust? Certainly Tim had shown less willingness to deal with their teasing, but outright hatred? No. Where had it come from? Was it all from his persona? If not...why did he hate them?
She watched as Lara walked over to him, both wishing she had the courage to do the same and relieved that she didn't have to.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Tim couldn't remember the last time he'd been so angry. ...and he liked it. He had no interest in letting it go. He sat, watching all the activity going on around him. Time had passed without his noticing it. He didn't seem required to do anything and so he sat, replaying that incredibly satisfying moment when he had finally given Tony a little bit of what he deserved. His fist hurt a little, but it was so worth it just for the expression on Tony's face...not just the pain. It was mostly the total shock.
He laughed to himself.
"Hey, Tim."
Tim jumped.
"Sorry! Didn't mean to startle you."
He looked over his shoulder and saw Tony getting out of a car. He smiled and then looked at Lara.
"That's all right."
"Are you all right?"
"Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well, you did punch out Tony."
Tim laughed again. "Don't you think he deserved it?"
"It wasn't the best thing he could have said, but..."
Tim shook his head firmly. "Lara, if you're here to defend DiNozzo, don't bother. You can go back to work."
"What about you?"
"I was told to come out here. I'm just waiting for new orders."
Lara touched his shoulder. Tim looked at her hand and then up at her.
"What?"
"It must have been hard."
Tim stared at her in confusion. "What must have been hard?"
"Shooting that woman."
He shook his head. "No. It wasn't. I aimed. I fired. She died. She wasn't even presenting a moving target. She assumed that I was too much of a geek to pose a threat. That made it even easier." He shrugged her hand away. "How much longer will it take?"
"I'm not sure. It's a lot of junk we have to go through."
"Okay. Well, looks like Tony's got over himself a bit. You'll probably have another set of hands."
"Tim?"
"Yeah?"
"If you want to talk..."
Tim deliberately misunderstood her. "Isn't that what we're doing right now? Hey, do you think I broke Tony's nose? I'd ask him, but then I'd have to hear his voice talking to me."
Lara got that same strange expression on her face that the others had, but she didn't respond to his questions.
"I'd better get back to work, Tim."
"Okay. See you later." Tim watched her walk away and started picturing Ziva's face when he'd grabbed her wrist. He hadn't missed that flash of fear. Fear! The mighty Ziva David had been afraid of lowly Timothy McGee. Where that had irritated him before, this time it gave him a sense of accomplishment. The only one who hadn't satisfied him was Gibbs...although he'd come close. That moment of losing patience at Tim's sarcastic needling. ...but it hadn't been nearly so satisfying as watching Tony's head snap back. However, he didn't think he could get away with that same thing twice. He'd have to find some other way to get a rise out of Gibbs. That could wait, though. He was willing to wait...just like he had during the undercover op. Wait for the right moment.
"Hey, McGee! We're leaving!" Tony shouted, sounding resentful...and stuffed up.
Tim stood and walked over. "I told you not to talk to me, Tony," he said, but without any anger. It was just a statement of fact, no threat attached. Not yet anyway. He didn't give Tony a chance to say anything in reply. "Boss, can we stop at my apartment? There are a couple of things I'd like to pick up."
Gibbs stared at him.
"Well?" Tim asked.
"Sure, McGee," he said and then got in.
"I get front," Tony said...to Ziva. "I'm not sitting next to McLoony."
Tim laughed again and opened the passenger door behind Gibbs. The ride over to his...Thomas' apartment was silent. When they arrived, Tim got out without speaking and walked up the stairs to the horrible one-bedroom he'd lived in for the last seven months. He didn't need to get much, just a couple of items that he felt he needed.
He stopped in the bedroom. That ecstasy tablet from Jewel was still sitting on the nightstand. He walked over and sat down on the bed, picked up the pill and stared at it.
Stupid, Jewel, he thought.
The door to his apartment opened, startling him. He put the ecstasy in his pocket and pulled out his knife, cursing the fact that he had given Gibbs his gun.
The footsteps approached the bedroom. Tim poised to throw the knife.
"McGee."
Gibbs. Instantly, Tim lowered his arm, putting the knife back in its hiding place. He didn't want Gibbs taking that from him, too.
"What, Boss? You think I can't handle grabbing some toiletries?"
Gibbs came into the room.
"You were out of line."
"When?"
"You punched your teammate in the face."
Tim rolled his eyes. "He was out of line first. I was just helping him see that."
"That's not your job."
"No...that's your job, isn't it." Tim walked by Gibbs toward the bathroom. "Maybe you should try doing it."
"Hey, McGee."
Gibbs' voice had changed, becoming almost...understanding. That was laughable.
"What?"
"It's hard giving up an identity sometimes."
"I'm not having a hard time giving it up, Boss. Don't try to pass this off as that," Tim said. "I'm tired and looking forward to finally sleeping in a good bed."
"We'll drop you at your apartment then. Come in to NCIS tomorrow to work on your report."
"Fine. Whatever." Tim went into the bathroom, grabbed a couple of essentials and looked at himself in the mirror. He looked terrible. He looked...like someone who belonged in an apartment like this. He was still very skinny. Dark circles ringed his eyes, making it almost look as though he'd been hit himself. His hair. He hated his hair. He'd be glad to get rid of that look. He much preferred his own style...as staid as it was. Slowly, he reached out and touched his reflection.
"McGee, you ready?"
Gibbs' voice startled him out of his thoughts and he felt the anger again.
"Yes, I'm ready."
He walked out of the bathroom and followed Gibbs out of the apartment, glad to leave it behind.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
It was dead silent in the car for the first hour of the drive back to DC. Tim had closed his eyes almost instantly, but no one spoke until they were sure he was asleep.
Ziva leaned forward, keeping her voice very low.
"What are we going to do about him?"
"Can I punch him since he punched me?" Tony asked, but also keeping his voice soft. "He ruined my shirt."
"I am worried about him, Tony. Are you not?"
"If he punches me again, I'm going to hit him back."
"That is not what I asked."
"Look," Tony said turning around in his seat, "McGee spent half a year being someone else. It takes time to decompress. That's all it is."
"What about Jewel?"
"Julia," Tony corrected. "Only McGee called her Jewel."
"Fine. He killed her. Agent Miller told me that he said it did not bother him."
"He was lying."
"She did not think he was. He seemed sincere."
"Oh, come on. It's McGee!" Tony scoffed. "He would feel guilty about squashing a spider...if he could bring himself to do it."
"Tony, this is serious."
"He probably wants to be as macho as the rest of us. He'll cry in Abby's arms when she hugs him."
"He has to be debriefed and interviewed about the operation," Gibbs said, finally joining the conversation. "Any problems he has will come up there. If something is an issue, I'll find out. Don't expect him to be normal right after the end of an operation."
Ziva sat back, obviously not happy...but none of them saw Tim crack open his eyes just for a moment and then reclose them.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"McGee, you are home."
A touch on his arm brought him instantly to full awareness. Tim sat up and looked around, momentarily bewildered.
"Home?" he asked, blearily.
"Silver Spring, McGee," Gibbs said from the front.
Tim looked out at his apartment building. It had been half a year since he'd been there...and he felt strangely reluctant to return to it. However, he said nothing about that to the others in the car. After all, they were "worried" about him.
"McGee, will you be all right?" Ziva asked.
"I'm already fine, Ziva," Tim said and opened the door. He didn't hesitate but walked inside with long strides, putting a lot of distance between himself and his colleagues.
His strides took him to his door before he was ready to be there. He stopped and stared at it, not wanting to go inside, but again, he didn't stop. He pulled out his keys...and paused. Where had he gotten them? Had someone given them to him? He actually couldn't remember. Strange. He shrugged and unlocked the door.
His apartment was just how he remembered...maybe cleaner than it had been. Sarah had lived there for a semester, but she would be...somewhere else, he guessed. A note was on the counter. He walked over, hoping that it wasn't from anyone at NCIS.
Tim,
Thanks for letting me stay at your apartment...even if it freaks me out that I have no idea where you are or what you're doing. I don't even know when you'll be back. I'm not going to even think about the alternative. Anyway, I cleaned the whole place before I left. I'm in London for a special summer course at Cambridge. I'm really excited about it, and you had better call me or something when you get back. When. When you get back from wherever you are.
I never thought I'd say this, particularly not in print where you have evidence, but I miss you. Come back soon, please. I'll even stop teasing you about your novel.
Well, that's pretty much it. Welcome back, and CALL ME!
Sarah
Tim smiled. Sarah was so awkward when actually being nice to him. He was glad she wasn't there, though. She'd notice the difference right away and be even more freaked out. She'd seen him this angry before and she would know that something was wrong, even if he tried to hide it. Sarah noticed...but then she actually cared.
He left the note on the counter and told himself that he'd call her...and his parents tomorrow. It was too late to talk and he was tired. Instead, he headed back to his room, taking in all the familiar parts of his life that seemed so alien at the moment.
Tim walked around and around his apartment. He went to the bedroom, then into the bathroom where he set down his stuff. Then, back into the bedroom...and then into the main room, then to the kitchen. He wasn't walking quickly. He just couldn't seem to settle anywhere. More than two hours later, he was still walking from room to room, opening cupboards and closing them, sitting at his computer and standing up again, clicking randomly on his typewriter, opening the drawers. He felt like he'd been unnaturally grafted into this place, even though it was his place, his possessions...his home. It still felt wrong.
Finally, he forced himself into the bedroom once more and lay down on the bed. He closed his eyes, wanting to sleep. He was really tired.
...but he didn't sleep.
