Chapter 26

"I'm coming, Jethro," Tim muttered as he heard the barking from the bedroom. "Just a second!"

He finished up in the bathroom and started walking out...but then remembered that he'd left the shower door open. He turned around to close it...

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

Ducky was glad that he was heading home. It wasn't very late, but unexpected calls in on Saturdays when he was supposed to be off had a way of crimping his style. He smiled to himself. Hard to crimp style that was already pretty crimped as it was. He was no spring chicken. Still, it was nice to be getting home only slightly after dark. He pulled his car into the parking space and then headed for his front door.

There was someone there. A man sleeping...or dead. Ducky was slightly worried until he heard a soft whimper, a sound he recognized.

"Jethro?" he whispered in disbelief. A shadow peeled away from the darkness of the stoop and moved down the stairs. In seconds, he had a large German shepherd dancing around him. "Jethro...whatever are you doing here?"

He continued on his way and saw that Timothy was the man on his steps...asleep...but, oh, how awful he looked. He was still very skinny and even in the shadowed light from the sidewalk, Ducky could see the strain in his face...and more.

"Timothy?"

No reaction, but Ducky saw that there were small scratches on his face and that he had one arm held protectively to his chest, even in sleep.

"Timothy!" He touched him gently on the shoulder.

Tim cried out in fright and sat up, his eyes wild, his breathing erratic. He tried to push away the physical contact.

"Timothy, it's all right. It's Ducky. You're all right. You're safe."

Tim didn't seem to hear or see him, however. He looked around and around, his head shifting in jerky, anxious motions, as if he was trying to find an attacker.

"Timothy!" Ducky said again and then gasped as the jacket on Tim's arm fell away, revealing several long gashes. "Oh, dear. What are you doing here? What happened to you?"

"I...I need to be safe...Ducky...I ...I need...safe...safe..." His voice was almost unrecognizable. It was rough, shaking. It sounded like the voice of a stranger.

"All right. Come inside. I'll keep you safe."

He reached out to help Tim stand but Tim was having none of it. He flinched away from Ducky's touch and began to shake violently.

"Let me help you, Timothy. I won't hurt you."

Still shaking, Tim allowed Ducky to give him a hand standing and then put a guiding arm around him as he led the injured man to the door.

"Come along, Jethro," he said. "You may as well come inside, too."

Jethro whimpered softly and followed the pair into the house.

"All right, lad. Come this way. I have a spare room. You can lie down and rest."

Tim's shaking seemed to increase and Ducky was unpleasantly surprised at how thin he was. It was as bad, if not worse, than Tim had been undercover. He turned on a light and Tim jumped. His eyes were still wild and frightened. How much stimuli was actually getting in was unknown, but he could tell that there was something that had happened. There were dark circles under his eyes. The shaking could be from lack of sleep...or food...or something else...or a combination of things.

"Right in here, now, Timothy," he said, keeping his voice soft and soothing, avoiding anything that might frighten him. In his current state, Tim could probably throw a punch just out of fear...and Ducky was fairly certain he couldn't take that like he could have as a young man.

"J-Jethro...he's...he should be..."

"He's right here, lad," Ducky said quickly, slowing down so that Jethro could brush against Tim's legs.

They reached the bedroom and Ducky directed Tim to the bed, chancing letting the man stand on his own while he turned down the covers.

"There you go. Just sit down right here. Good lad. That's it."

Tim perched uneasily on the edge of the bed, clearly ready to launch given the slightest provocation.

"I'm just going to take off your shoes, Timothy. Understand?"

Somewhere in the shaking was a motion that was possibly a nod. Ducky knelt down and slid off Tim's shoes. He wasn't wearing any socks.

"Now, let me take a look at your arm."

"No!" Tim said instantly, curling in on himself. "Don't touch! No...I...It will..."

"Just let me see it and bandage it up. It will help it stop hurting, all right?"

Tim subsided. He wouldn't look Ducky in the eye, even though he continued move his gaze all over the room.

"Jethro, you stay here," Ducky said, petting him on the head.

As much as dogs could express anxiety, Jethro was, pacing back and forth between Ducky and Tim, occasionally letting out a soft whine.

Ducky crouched down.

"I'll be right back. I promise."

Jethro whuffled at him and then licked his face.

Ducky laughed and scratched behind Jethro's ears. Then, he got up and headed to the closet where he kept a first aid kit. It didn't take long and when he came back, Tim hadn't moved. The blood on his arm was dry and had been for a long time it seemed. Tim was still shaking.

"Timothy?"

Tim jumped and looked at Ducky in fear.

"It's just me. Would you let me take a look at your arm now?"

Tim hesitated and then extended his arm. It was visibly shaking. Ducky pulled a chair over to the bed and took Tim's arm.

"Okay, let's see what we have here."

There were quite a few cuts, but none of them were very deep. Ducky carefully cleaned them all. Tim tried to pull away every time he touched them, but Ducky kept a firm grip on his arm even as he took pains to make sure Tim stayed calm.

"Patience, Timothy. Almost done," he said soothingly every time.

When all the cuts had been treated, Ducky let go.

"There."

Tim pulled his arm back to his chest.

"Why don't you lay down and rest, lad?"

Tim didn't respond directly but he allowed himself to be maneuvered onto his back. Ducky then pulled the blankets over him and watched as Tim's eyes closed and sleep came...and the shaking stopped. Ducky leaned back on the chair and sighed. Of all the ways in which he might have hoped to see Tim again...this was not even on the list.

A cold nose nuzzled his hand and Ducky looked down.

"Well, Jethro...welcome to my home. I wish you could tell me what had happened to cause this dramatic appearance weeks after Timothy's departure from our lives."

Ducky would be the first to admit that he was no expert on dogs (corgis notwithstanding), but Jethro didn't look all that healthy himself. His tail was down almost between his legs and his ears drooped. He leaned over and began petting Jethro, scratching his ears and generally paying close attention to him.

"You look as though you need someone pampering you, Jethro. I'm guessing that you didn't get that from Timothy." Another sigh. "Well, I don't keep dog food on hand since I got rid of Mother's corgis...but there is a grocery store just down the street. I little like the idea of leaving Timothy alone, but I think you need something more than I could give you. Stay here while I make a quick visit."

Jethro moved over beside Tim's sleeping form. Then, he flopped down on his stomach and stared at Ducky as if to say, "Well? Get going!"

"All right. I can see I've had my marching orders." Ducky stood and headed out. He hoped that Tim would stay asleep until he returned at the very least.

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

"So...does this happen a lot?" Jamie asked.

"What?" Tony asked.

"Saturday nights spent here."

"Oh. Yeah...sometimes. Sundays, too. Never happened to you out at Norfolk?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Fridays? Absolutely. Sailors were all drunk and sleeping off hangovers on Saturdays."

Tony laughed. "Well, at least we finished up before Sunday."

"Hey, Tony?"

"Yeah?"

"You don't have to keep trying, you know."

"Trying what?"

"To treat me like I'm part of the team. I know you guys don't want me here."

"That's not it."

"It might as well be. If you don't want to be friends, I'm cool with that. Coworkers don't have to hang out all the time. Just don't try if you're not feeling it. That only makes it awkward...and I'm here whether you like it or not. Got it?"

Tony smiled. "Understood."

"Good. See you next week."

"Right."

Jamie gathered her bags and headed out. After the elevator doors closed, Tony sighed. Jamie was right. They'd been trying much too hard to make this work...if only because Vance had insisted that they keep operating as usual. Tony knew that he, at least, had taken that mean everything as usual...including the camaraderie they'd had in the past...but Jamie wasn't Tim...and she never would be.

"She's right, Tony," Gibbs said.

"Yeah. We're trying to make it be like it was before. It can't be."

"Maybe it shouldn't be."

"Don't you want McGee back, Boss?"

"Doesn't matter what I want. Doesn't matter what you want. It's what we have. Deal with it."

Tony shrugged. "Maybe I don't want to."

Gibbs sat down at his desk. The malevolent green eyes were still on his monitor. He didn't know how to get rid of them...and he wasn't about to ask for help.

"Then, you'll have to figure it out. I don't have time."

"That's always the problem, isn't it," Tony said. "No one wants to take the time."

Silence.

He got up and left.

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

Ducky was relieved to find that Tim was still asleep upon his return. He was a bit restless, but sleeping.

"Jethro," he said softly. "Are you hungry?"

Jethro leapt to his feet rather quickly and followed Ducky into the kitchen.

"I'm afraid that I don't have any bowls specifically for dogs, but I assume that you can tolerate that for one meal at least."

Jethro was fairly dancing as Ducky poured food into a large bowl and then set it and a bowl of water on the floor. Instantly, he began eating...but Ducky was relieved to note that it wasn't with the kind of desperation which would denote starvation, merely a day at most. So Tim, even if he himself was not in the best shape, had made some effort at keeping Jethro well and healthy. That was something...not much, but something.

Having taken care of the physical needs of his surprise visitors, Ducky went about taking care of his own needs. He didn't feel up to cooking anything after all the excitement, but he had some leftovers from the night before and he quickly warmed them up and ate, hoping against hope that some sort of inspiration would come to him about how he should deal with Tim when he awakened. It really depended a great deal on what exactly had happened to him. Was it a reaction to a genuine trauma or had it been some sort of devolution into self-harm? Until Tim broke out of this altered state, he probably wouldn't know.

Jethro made it known that he needed to go outside after he ate, but then, he went into Tim's room and took up a position that looked nothing short of guard duty. Tim still slept. Ducky watched him for a while. It was such a shock to have Tim suddenly appear...and of all the people he could have come to, it was Ducky he had chosen.

"What are you thinking of, Timothy?" he asked softly.

Tim stirred slightly but didn't awaken.

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

"I don't care if Tim said he didn't want visitors! You have to! He hasn't called anyone in more than two weeks!" Sarah ranted.

"Sarah, you know what Tim can be like," Naomi said. "If he really doesn't want us there, showing up will only make it worse."

"But...if something is really wrong, something that he can't see..."

"There is something wrong, Sarah," Sam said. "We all know that...and that includes Tim. The problem is that he doesn't care that it's wrong...and we can't force him to."

"Why not?"

Sam laughed. "Because when has Tim ever been forced to see something against his will?"

Sarah laughed too, but there were tears in her voice.

"I'm afraid that he'll be gone when I get back...and I'll never see him again."

"I hope it doesn't go that far."

"But what if it does?"

"I don't know. Honestly, Sarah... we just don't know. We just have to hope that he'll see that he needs help."

"What if he never does?"

Naomi felt her throat close up at the thought...because based on what she had heard in Tim's voice, the alternative was dark indeed.

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

The moaning brought Ducky out of a sound sleep and he sat up in the darkness trying to figure out where the sounds were coming from. Then, he heard a canine whimper and he remembered.

"Timothy."

Quickly, he got out of bed, thumped down the stairs and into the spare room where Tim was tossing and turning, mumbling, his breathing erratic. Jethro was whining, front paws on the edge of the bed.

"Timothy! Wake up!" Ducky said, grabbing onto Tim's shoulders to stop his flailing arms.

Tim's eyes opened, but he wasn't seeing Ducky.

"Keep away! Don't touch me!" he shouted.

"Wake up, Timothy!"

Tim sat up in bed, roughly shoving Ducky away from him before he suddenly did as Ducky had ordered. He was on the edge of hyperventilating as he looked around, obviously confused about his surroundings.

"Timothy, are you all right?"

Tim blinked and looked at Ducky.

"Ducky?"

"Yes."

"What...what are you doing here?"

Ducky smiled. "It is my home. I believe I have the right to be in my own home at..." He looked at the clock. "...at four in the morning."

"Your...home?" Tim looked around again. "What? ...how...I..."

Tim's confusion was not ebbing. It seemed to be increasing.

"You are in my house in Georgetown, Timothy," Ducky said. "Don't you remember coming here?"

Confusion was taking precedence over everything else for the moment...and that made Tim honest.

"I...I don't...I don't know how...why..." He started shaking again.

Ducky reached out to comfort him.

"Don't touch me...Ducky...please, don't touch me."

"Very well. Do you remember what happened to bring you to my front porch?"

Tim started to shake his head but then stopped mid-motion. "How long have I been here?"

"I'm not sure. It was nine in the evening when I arrived. It is now four a.m."

"I have to go back!" Tim said, suddenly trying disentangle himself from the blankets. "I have to go! I...I don't know...if...if I turned on the alarm! I'm supposed to be house sitting for Matt!"

This time, Ducky did restrain Tim, going so far as to push him back down onto the bed.

"No, Timothy. You need to stay here, at least for the rest of the night."

The anger returned, although not as strongly as Ducky might have expected.

"Don't tell me what to do. You can't order me around."

"I'm not trying to. Timothy, you came to me. I am worried about you. Let me help. You asked me to keep you safe. That's what I'm trying to do."

"Jethro! Is he–?"

At the sound of his name, Jethro jumped up and barked.

"He was with you. Timothy, did you drive here? I didn't see your car."

"I didn't...I must have taken a taxi."

"What happened?"

Tim closed his eyes, still shaking.

"M-My shower...The shower...it exploded."

"Exploded?"

Tim's eyes flew open. "I'm not lying! That's what happened! I...I wasn't...I didn't do anything! It just...exploded."

"What happened after that?"

"I don't remember...I just...I wanted to..."

"Feel safe."

Tim nodded. "But I need to go back. I can't let anything happen to Matt's place while I'm gone!"

"Do you think anything will?"

"It doesn't matter! It's my responsibility!" Tim again tried to get up. Ducky again held him down.

"Timothy, listen to me!"

"I don't have to!"

"No, you don't, but please do."

"Let go of me," he said, an unsettling edge in his voice.

Ducky did so but didn't move away.

"Very well, but listen to me, Timothy. What you need to do is sleep for the rest of the night and then in the morning we can go back to your friend's home and see what there is to see."

"But Ducky–!"

"You're flushed, shaking and barely out of the altered state that brought you to my door. Timothy, you need to rest...not because I'm forcing you to do so but because your own body knows that's what it needs."

Tim stopped trying to get up. "I wish..." He trailed off. "I'm tired."

"Then, sleep, lad. Your friend's home will keep until morning."

Ducky watched the tension ease from Tim's body and he judged it safe to approach again. Gently, he eased Tim back down onto the bed. Tim began to shiver.

"I'm cold."

"Easily remedied. I have many extra blankets." Ducky walked to the closet and opened it, noting that Tim jumped at the sound of the door opening and closing. "Here's an afghan. It should do the trick. Now, just rest. Don't worry. You came here to be safe and you are."

Tim's eyes began to droop, but there was fear still. Fear, not anger.

"Ducky?"

"Yes, lad?"

It seemed like it was hard for him to get the words out, as if he was fighting against himself to make the request. "Would you stay...just for a...just until I'm asleep?"

"Certainly."

Tim closed his eyes. He didn't say thank you or anything. His eyes closed and he went to sleep. Ducky, however, remained awake...even after Jethro finally settled down and slept as well. He watched Tim as his body relaxed...and then began to tense up.

"It's all right, Timothy. You're safe," he whispered, placing a gentle hand on Tim's forehead.

Tim subsided back into a deeper sleep. He lasted for about half an hour and then he started to shift and moan. Again, Ducky leaned forward and soothed him back to sleep, away from whatever he was facing in his subconscious mind.

...and yet, no more than fifteen minutes later, Tim was tossing and turning, fretting in his sleep. Ducky was surprised that it was happening so often in one night. If this was what normally happened to Tim, then Ducky had a nasty suspicion that Tim was facing more challenges than the anger toward his former coworkers. There was a deeper problem.

"No! NO!" Tim shouted, shifting from an apparently peaceful sleep to total panic in record time.

Jethro awakened and whined as Tim began tossing and turning...fighting his demons.

Ducky quickly sat on the edge of the bed and placed one arm around the struggling young man. Then, he began smooth back the hair on Tim's head, trying to calm him down without waking him up.

"It's all right, Timothy. You have nothing to fear."

He kept up the soft litany. Tim never woke up, but his terror eased and he slipped, once more, into the deeper sleep, away from the dreams. If this was what he dealt with every night, what could have been so terrifying that it disconnected his brain? Or had something like this happened before? Ducky sighed even as Tim relaxed. They did need to go back to that house...if only so that Ducky could see what had actually happened.

"Oh, Timothy."

Ducky stayed there the rest of the night, calming the night terrors when they began, watching when Tim was peaceful. At around six a.m., an idea came to him. It was born, not out of his training, but out of a desperate need for help dealing with someone he didn't want to see ruined. He dismissed the idea of calling anyone at NCIS, even those such as Abby and Vance, against whom Tim bore no ill will...even they would carry a stigma. It had to be a stranger, someone wholly disconnected from everything that had happened...Tim might listen to a person like that.

Leaving Tim alone, Ducky crept out of the room and dialed an international number, an old friend from London. The call didn't take long, but by the time he returned to Tim, he was forced to soothe away another nightmare.

"Your whole life is a nightmare right now, isn't it, lad," Ducky said softly.

Tim didn't respond.