Chapter 28

It was Sunday morning. For the last few weeks, that had meant one thing for Tony and Ziva: A drive-by. The car slowed down as Matt's house came into view. They looked avidly to see if Tim was there, was okay.

"Wait a second," Tony said. "Isn't that Ducky's car?"

Ziva leaned forward. Tony was driving this week.

"It must be. How many people drive those old cars?"

Tony grinned. "More than you probably are thinking..." His brow furrowed. "...but Gibbs said McGee didn't want anyone showing up unless invited."

"Perhaps Ducky was invited."

"Well, if he was...why didn't he tell us?"

"I do not know, perhaps because it was not our business?"

"It is our business! He knows we've been making sure McGee is okay...or trying to."

"Yes, but that does not mean he has to tell us everything."

"I wish we could see what was going on."

"If Ducky is there, then we do not have to worry. He is not one who has made the mistakes we did. McGee does not hate him."

"Actually...considering all the stuff McGee did, I'm more worried about Ducky."

"You are the only one he punched, Tony."

"...yeah, and he said he wished he hadn't saved us."

"That is a far cry from actually attacking us. You know that Ducky will not say something as inappropriate as you."

"Thanks, Ziva," Tony said.

"Let us go, Tony. There is nothing more to be seen here. I, for one, feel better knowing that McGee has at least contacted someone."

"Yeah..."

Reluctantly, Tony sped up, driving down to the space where they could turn around and head back to DC.

"Do you think he's called Abby?" he asked.

"No. She would have told us."

"Yeah...even if just to gloat."

Abby was another problem. She tried to treat them as she had before and it was clear that she wasn't really angry at them anymore...but there was a strain there because she did blame them for Tim's leaving. It meant less time spent in each other's company, especially outside of work hours. In fact, the only person who seemed unaffected by Tim's departure from NCIS was Gibbs, the one who had been on the receiving end of the worst of Tim's wrath. How much he just wasn't saying hadn't been clear, but he acted as he always did.

That, in turn, had put something of a division between him and Tony and Ziva who both were more or less of the same mind: they had, whether directly or indirectly, caused Tim to quit. They had dropped the ball and if anything happened to Tim in his current state, it would be their fault...which was why they kept driving past the house. Sometimes, they caught glimpses of him outside or through the windows. It was enough, at least, to tell them that Tim was alive and physically capable. More than that, they didn't know and couldn't know, not without breaking Tim's firm injunction.

One last pass by the house.

"Ducky is there," Ziva said. "McGee will be fine with him."

"Yeah...I hope so."

They drove away.

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

Tim sat listlessly on the edge of the pool, watching as the cleaner did its job. The frogs were already taken care of. They had all been right there; so when Tim had finally gotten a hold of himself, he had picked them up and thrown them out.

He could hear, faintly, Ducky inside, talking to Matt on the phone, telling him about the shower...and no doubt, about Tim's uncertain mental state.

He laughed bitterly and shook his head. It hadn't taken long to demonstrate that. It hadn't taken long at all. He was clearly nuts. Maybe the next thing he knew he'd be streaking down the road. ...or maybe he'd decide he was a frog and go and live in the marsh. That was the kind of thing crazy people did, right?

Gibbs would have a field day with this news, of course. So would Tony and Ziva. It would prove that they were right. Tim really was a total wreck and he couldn't handle doing his...former job. They would celebrate that they were right and he was wrong.

"Timothy?"

Tim jumped. He didn't know why he was always startled when someone spoke to him...but he couldn't control that fear.

"You still here, Ducky?" he said.

"Of course."

Tim laughed again, staring at the pool. "You sure you want to be? I might be a dangerous nutcase. I'm surprised you haven't already run home."

"Do you think I should?"

Tim hated his reasonable tone. "Of course. I'm obviously a loony. In fact, you should probably take Jethro with you. He's not very happy here."

"Are you?"

"I'm not trying to be happy."

"Yes, I know. I can see that much."

"So...why are you still here?"

"Because I'm concerned about you."

"I'm fine."

He heard Ducky laugh.

"You think I'm lying?"

"I know you are, Timothy. You are totally aware that you are not fine. You may not care, but you know."

"What do you want, Ducky?"

"I'd like for you to talk to someone...an old friend of mine."

"I'm not talking to a shrink, Ducky!" Tim said, feeling angry again...which was a relief.

"He's not a shrink."

"Who is he, then?"

"Someone I met many years ago. He's a detective in London. He specializes in undercover work, although the last few years he's merely been an instructor. He's coming here for a visit."

Tim laughed cynically. "And you just happened to be getting a visit from a friend who knows about undercover work?"

"No. I called him and asked him to come, specifically to speak with you."

"What if I say no? You can't force me to talk to your friend."

"No, that's true. I can't. If you refuse then I will simply enjoy a visit from an old friend. We try to get together every year or so and it's been a while."

"Do you honestly think talking to him will help?"

"I think that it can't hurt you any more than you have already hurt yourself."

"What are you going to try to do, Ducky? Save me?" Tim asked sarcastically.

"If I can, lad."

Tim looked away from the pool and toward Ducky. For just a moment, he wanted to believe that Ducky meant it.

"Well, you can't. So give it up," he said finally. "I don't want to be saved."

"Then, what do you want?"

"Nothing." Tim turned back to the pool. He stiffened when Ducky came and sat down beside him. "What?"

"I won't leave you here alone, Timothy."

"Why not? You worried what I might do?"

"Yes," Ducky said simply.

Tim gave Ducky a sidelong glance. He couldn't detect any insincerity. ...but it didn't mean it wasn't there.

"I think we made a mistake in allowing you to be alone for so long. I think you are suffering too much to deal with it on your own. ...and one night in your company tells me I'm right."

"Yeah, that's what you want. To be right...and me be wrong."

"No. What I want is to see you stop hurting yourself."

"I'm just doing what everyone wants, aren't I?" Tim said nastily. "Tony and Ziva wanted me to be Thomas. That's what I'm doing. ...and you can't tell me that they really want me back."

"As you are now? No, probably not."

Tim forced out another laugh. "Exactly. They say one thing and then when they get it, they backtrack...because they can never be wrong. I'm the one who messes up."

"Timothy, I..."

Tim smiled as Ducky stopped, seeming to give up.

"Will you talk to my friend?"

"Why should I?"

"For yourself."

"I don't care about myself, Ducky."

"Then, will you do it for the friends you still have?"

"Like who? You?"

"Yes. And your friend, Matthew and his wife. Abigail. Your family."

"You failed to mention the MCRT."

"I did. I don't think you consider them friends of yours at the moment."

"You're right! I don't," Tim said firmly.

"That is rather outside my question, however. Will you speak to my friend when he comes?"

"When will he be here?"

"Either late tonight or tomorrow morning. He said he would call when he was sure of his flight."

Tim didn't want to talk to anyone who was going to try and understand, who would try to tell him he was wrong. He really didn't want to...but for some reason, that's not what he said.

"Okay. Fine. Don't plan on it doing anything."

"I won't."

Tim got up, leaving Ducky where he was.

"Timothy?"

Tim whirled around. "Get this straight, Ducky. You're not here because I want you here. I don't want or need your help. I'm allowing you to stay here because... I don't know why, but you are not my father. You're not even a colleague anymore. You can't tell me what to do or what not to do. Got it? It's my life."

Ducky got up slowly and faced him. Tim noticed that his pants were still wet from when Ducky had joined him in the pool.

"I'm afraid, Timothy, that you are mistaken. It's not your life anymore. I doubt that it has been for a long time."

Tim tried to scoff at that, but he couldn't. Instead, he threw a question out.

"Then, whose is it?"

Ducky smiled sadly. "If I knew that, I could help you get it back...but I'm afraid, Timothy, that you've moved beyond what I can help myself. That is what frightens more than your anger."

"What?"

"That you may be beyond the reach of anyone...and you may be lost. I fear that you are on the road to self-destruction...whether through actual suicide or just through your own apathy. It doesn't matter the method. You will be lost regardless...and I don't want that. I don't want to see that happen to you...as it has to others."

"What if I do?"

"Then, I am full of pity as well as fear."

Ducky never moved his gaze from Tim's face...and it made Tim uncomfortable. He didn't want to be sucked in again.

"I guess the pity is mutual."

"Why is that?"

"You thinking that all this effort will do any good. I've been to therapy before. In order for change to happen, the person has to want to change. I have no desire to go back to what I was before...and I don't care what that means for me. So I pity you for harboring any hope that you can help."

Tim turned around and stalked back into the house, glad to have the last word.

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

James Oaks sat in Heathrow, waiting for his flight. He still had more than an hour before boarding began; so he pulled out his phone and called his friend.

"This is Dr. Mallard."

"Hey, Don. It's James."

"You found a flight?"

The short, actually absent greeting told James all he needed to know about Ducky's current state of mind. He was only terse when he was extremely worried.

"I'm in the airport now, just waiting for boarding to begin. Is it that bad?"

"It's worse, I'm afraid. Timothy may be beyond saving."

"It must be bad if you're giving up."

"I'm not. I'm merely terrified that I'll have to."

"And this is all from this man going undercover for six months?"

"More or less...I think. Timothy doesn't want to get help with what he knows is a dangerous mindset."

"Don, there's nothing I can do if he doesn't want my help. I'm good, but there's no way I can make him do anything. You know that."

"I'm hoping that there is a part of him, no matter how small, no matter how suppressed, that does want help. During his altered state, he came to me because he wanted to feel safe. If he truly wanted nothing more to do with the world, he would not have done that."

"You're banking everything on his actions during a period that he can't even remember?"

"Yes...and on desperate hope. James, I have...I can't explain to you how difficult it is to see this willful destruction. He wants to tear himself down. I don't know why. It's almost like he thinks that if he succeeds in destroying himself, he'll somehow...win."

"Win what?"

"I don't know. I really don't know."

"If he's that badly off, why not just get him committed? From what you've described, I would wager that any judge would agree that he poses a danger to himself...and possibly others."

"I'm sure I could...but with how deep his anger goes, I don't know that involuntary commitment would really help. You have no idea how stubborn Timothy can be."

"You're pinning quite a lot on my visit, Don."

"I'm not expecting miracles."

"Yes, you are," James said, with a laugh. "Yes, you are, Don. You want me to come in there, wave my magic wand and fix your friend. It's not going to happen. I know about undercover work, but I don't know about psychology. He probably needs to be committed, you know."

"I know. If I can just get him to...to feel that there is some value to trying to reclaim his life...I think he would commit himself."

"You have a lot of faith in him."

"In who he was...and who I hope he can be again. It may be too late...but I'm not willing to give him up without a fight."

"Speaking of fighting, are you worried on that score? For yourself, I mean?"

"No...or at least not to a large degree. I think he frightened himself slightly with his previous actions."

"What did happen?"

"So far as I can tell, exactly what he said: the shower seems to have exploded. I have the company who installed it coming to check it out in a few days. Until then, I suppose Timothy will have to use a different bathroom...not that I think that's a problem. This house is monstrous."

"Would United passenger James...Oaks, please come to the desk? James Oaks."

"Oh, I'm being summoned, Don."

"Call me when you get in. I'll pick you up from Dulles."

"Will do. I hope I can do what you want, Don. I'm not sure I can."

"All I ask is that you try."

"That's all I can do. See you in a few hours, Don."

"Have a safe flight."

"Bye, Don."

James disconnected and shouldered his bag. He really did hope he could help, but it was a tall order. When a person decided to embrace a persona, no matter the degree, it was hard to convince them that it was a bad idea. ...and Tim seemed to have completely subsumed himself in it...with full knowledge of what he was doing, according to what Ducky said. That was different and that would be more difficult. Still, he would do his best...provided he could get there.

"Hello, I'm James Oaks. I was paged?"

As he spoke with the attendant, his mind was only half on the request that he change seats. Most of it was thinking about how he could approach someone who had been allowed an entire month of total solitude to solidify his anger.

It would be a task worthy of Heracles.