Chapter 13

Tim paced agitatedly back and forth, the phone to his ear.

"Dad, I've tried doing what you wanted me to do! It's not working! I'm tired of it!"

He listened to his dad trying to soothe him, calm him down, and he wasn't interested in hearing it.

"No, Dad! I'm sick of all of them. I'm not going to deal with it anymore! If they don't want to bother, neither do I! I'm not going to come crawling to them over and over just to make them feel better about themselves! I won't do it!" He hung up before he could hear anything else. He stormed out of the dormitory. Everyone was avoiding him at the moment. Good. He had no interest in dealing with people anymore. He'd tried. He'd failed. He wouldn't fail again.

When he got out to the road, he ran across it to his preferred bench. It was isolated, facing the river, away from the rest of campus. He sat down on it and pulled his knees to his chest. It was evening. He wouldn't be missed. No one ever missed him. He was so glad that next year he'd be in a position to request a single-occupancy dorm. Then, he could stay away from all the people who...who baffled him. He'd be an adult finally and could make his own decisions on what he was doing. No one could beat him down anymore.

He had listened to his dad and it had all come to nothing. Whether it was his own fault or theirs, he didn't care. All he cared about was that he wouldn't bother with the rest of humanity again. Let them go along and do what they wanted. He would have no part of them.

The only thing that made him more angry was the fact that he felt like crying at the same time. He hated feeling like this. He had thought MIT would be better than high school. He had thought he'd be able to make friends finally. ...but the people here were just as bad. Apparently, intelligence didn't make people any easier to deal with.

He looked back over his shoulder once, at all the buildings full of people enjoying themselves. He began to grind his teeth and got up, determined to put as much distance between mankind and himself as possible.

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

"You think McGee is still up there?" Tony asked.

Ziva laughed. "Do not tell me that you are afraid of McGee."

"I'm not! I just think he's being weird and I'd rather avoid being punched in the face for no reason."

"It was not no reason, Tony," Ziva said. "What you said was unnecessary."

"Do you think I deserved to be punched in the face?"

"No, but I cannot blame him for wanting you to shut up."

"Remind me never to get you angry. You'd probably kill me."

Thwack!

"If you'd think before you spoke, DiNozzo, we'd probably all be a lot happier," Gibbs said abruptly and pulled out his phone as they reached the building. "Ducky, we're here." Then, he hung up and got on the elevator.

"What was that about, Boss?"

"I have no idea."

Ziva raised an eyebrow. "Then, why did you call Ducky?"

"Because he asked me to."

The doors opened. Tim was still there, staring intently at his monitor.

"Oh, come on," Tony said loudly. "He can't have been working on his report all this time."

Tim lifted his head, shot a death glare Tony's way and then looked at his monitor again without speaking. Somehow, the silence was more disturbing than anything he could have said.

"McGee, are you not finished yet?" Ziva asked.

"It was a long operation, Ziva. Did you expect that I could finish it in two pages?" Tim asked, not looking up, but at least responding...even if the tone was nothing short of combative.

"Not at all, but you had all day."

Tim chose to ignore her again, but Gibbs could have sworn he heard Tim grinding his teeth.

"When will you be done with it, McGee?" he asked.

"When I'm done. Okay?"

"Did you get your debriefing done, Timothy?" Ducky asked, having come in during the brief exchange.

Tim glared at Ducky. "No."

"It was scheduled for this morning, McGee," Gibbs said.

"Oh, really? I must have missed the time," Tim ground out.

"Timothy, you realize that your debriefing is vital for the conclusion of the case, don't you?"

Gibbs watched with surprise as Tim looked at Ducky and momentarily actually seemed afraid...but when his eyes moved back onto Gibbs, his expression was the same disdainful one they'd become used to seeing.

"I guess I'll have to reschedule, then, won't I?"

"Tomorrow morning, McGee."

"Wow, did you magically reschedule my debriefing with your mind?"

The elevator doors opened, stopping Gibbs' from doling out a deserved headslap.

"Timmy! You're back!"

A black and red blur sped across the room and ran headlong into Tim.

"I'm glad to see you! Why didn't you come down and see me before? I'm so happy that you're okay, and that you're back here!"

Abby couldn't see Tim's face, but she felt his hands grab her shoulders and push her away from him.

"Hi, Abby," he said quickly as he took a couple of steps back from her.

"What's wrong, Tim?" Abby said. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

"Sure, Abby," Tim said, although it was clear to everyone that he wasn't. "You just surprised me is all. I'm still a bit on edge."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Can I try again?"

Tim smiled slightly. "Not tonight. Tomorrow."

Abby grinned and pouted. "Okay. Okay. I'll be patient. You could have come down to see me, though!"

Abby was oblivious to Tim's mounting discomfort, but for once, Tony and Ziva twigged to it.

"Actually, Abby, we have some things for you to sign in," Ziva said quickly.

"Gathered from Norfolk by yours truly," Tony said.

"Oh, I should probably sign for them before I go home," Abby said, distracted enough that Tony and Ziva were able to lead her to the elevator and back down to the lab. As soon as the doors closed, Tim picked up his bag and walked to the other elevator to leave.

"McGee!"

Tim stopped but didn't turn around.

"Tomorrow morning. I'll tell you when your debriefing is...and you'll go to it."

"If I don't, I'm sure you'll make me wish I had," Tim retorted and continued on his way.

Gibbs watched the doors close.

"Jethro, you're going about this wrong," Ducky said.

"I'm treating him like normal, Ducky...which is better than he deserves considering his behavior."

"If so, then I can see why he hates you all."

"Hates us?" Gibbs turned around and looked at Ducky in surprise.

Ducky laughed. "How could you have missed it, Jethro? If looks could kill, Timothy would have killed you all several times over. Whatever the debriefing reveals, he needs a lot of therapy...and not being treated like 'normal'."

"Everyone coming out of undercover needs therapy. McGee's no different."

"There is something very wrong, Jethro. I'm not sure if you're willfully ignoring it or if you really can't see how far gone Timothy is. He's more than on edge as he said. He's afraid and he's angry...for reasons I don't understand, but can't you see that there's a problem?"

"McGee knows the procedures for undercover work, Ducky. Vance chose him for this assignment, not me, but McGee made sure he was as ready as he could be for it. No one is ready for their first time undercover."

"Is that what this is? A power play between yourself and Director Vance? Because he chose the member of your team you would not have chosen?"

"I've been as supportive of McGee as I would have been with the others," Gibbs said, but honesty forced him to continue. "...even if Vance should have asked me before assigning members of my team to various operations."

"Would you have suggested McGee?"

"Absolutely not!"

Ducky smiled. "And you don't think Timothy was aware of it?"

"I did my job...as did Tony and Ziva."

"Are you certain of that?"

"Yes," Gibbs said, but not with as much certainty as before. "McGee will be fine. It will take some time, but he'll be fine, Ducky."

"I wish I could be so confident, Jethro. Make sure he goes to his debriefing tomorrow. Escort him to the room if you must because, based on his behavior with me today, I don't know that he'll go willingly."

"I'll get him there."

"One more thing, Jethro."

"Yeah?"

"Try not to respond to Timothy's jibes. That's what he wants. Why...I couldn't hazard to guess, but he was doing that to me during lunch today, and when I didn't respond in kind, he stopped. I don't know what is going through his mind right now. That's far beyond my capacity to understand, but I can at least see when he is looking for specific stimuli. Don't give him that."

"I won't."

"I mean it, Jethro."

"I heard you, Duck."

Ducky shook his head. "I'm not sure you have really, but I hope that you've heard enough."

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

Tim was relieved to make it back to his apartment...even if he hated the foreign feeling it gave him to be there. There was no Abby there, no one was there at all. Just him.

I need to call home. Mom and Dad will want to know I'm back.

He thought about it for a while and then realized that if he called right then, his parents might be gone. He could leave a message and not actually talk to them. He wasn't ready for that. He dialed quickly and listened to the phone ring..and ring.

"Hello, you've reached Sam and Naomi McGee. Please leave a message after the tone."

"Hey, Mom, Dad. It's Tim. I'm back and I'm okay. Uh...just wanted to let you know. Um...don't call back. I'll try again later. I'm fine. Bye."

He hung up and walked slowly into the bathroom. He stopped and looked at himself in the mirror. He didn't look like himself.

Who do you look like then?

He wasn't sure.

Yes, you are. You know. You look like Thomas. That's part of the problem. They don't trust what they can't control. Thomas isn't controlled...not by anyone.

Control. He hated it when people took it upon themselves to control his life. Even Ducky, kind as he was about it, was trying to order him around.

You know what you have to do.

He did. He'd already decided that much, but he'd hoped not to have everything go so wrong. ...but it had. There was nothing to be done.

Tim sat down at his computer and began to type. At first it was hard, but after a few minutes, he laughed as he thought of how he'd deliver the message.