Chapter 30
Ducky was surprised that Tim didn't wake him up at all during the night. He himself was tired enough that he slept straight through until the sun shone in eyes the next morning. He sat up and looked around.
Timothy couldn't still be outside...
Even as he thought it, he knew that was where Tim would be. He hated that he knew it, and he hated that he would have to leave Tim to James' care. James was capable, possibly more capable than the rest of them, but still, Ducky wanted to be able to do something more than he had for Tim. Just looking at him was painful.
With a sigh, he got out of bed and got himself ready for the day. Routine completed, he went down to the kitchen and saw that Tim was asleep on the deck chair by the pool. Not wanting to leave him for James to deal with asleep, Ducky walked out to the pool. Tim hadn't started yelling, but there was a tension to his body that said he wasn't enjoying whatever he was currently experiencing.
"Timothy, it's morning," he said.
At the touch of Ducky's hand on his arm, Tim was awake, looking around for the danger...until his eyes rested on Ducky and reflected a brief moment of pure terror...then, that was covered by the disdain again.
"Hello," he said. That was all.
"Good morning, Timothy."
"Not likely."
"At least it is no longer night."
"There is that."
"James is still sleeping upstairs. His body clock will most likely be readjusting to the time difference. He'll take care of himself."
"What? You let people do that?"
Ducky winced inside, but all he did was smile. "When they can."
Tim said nothing but looked away. It amazed Ducky how sometimes the simplest statements seemed to utterly defeat Tim's ability to fight back...and yet the clear logical arguments held no power to make him see what he was doing to himself and why it was wrong.
"I'll be back this evening."
Tim didn't look back, but his words didn't have their usual sting.
"You say that like it's a good thing."
"I'd like to think it was."
"What if I don't want you to come back?"
"I'm afraid you'll have to force me out this time."
"What happened to what I want?"
"When you actually know what that is, you can let me know."
A long silence.
"I'll see you tonight, Timothy."
No response. Ducky suppressed a sigh and left for work.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
The same dull silence reigned in the bullpen...until the elevator doors opened and revealed Ducky. Instantly, both Tony and Ziva jumped up.
"Ducky!"
"Yes?" he asked, seeming tired.
"How's McGee?" Tony asked. "Is he okay?"
"Did he call you?" Ziva asked. "We saw your car at his friend's house."
Ducky's smile was more than a little sad.
"He is not...okay, Anthony. He didn't call me. He showed up at my house almost in a trance on Saturday night."
A moment of silence greeted his pronouncement.
"What happened?" Tony asked.
"I'm still not sure...because he doesn't remember himself."
"Is he still angry with us?" Ziva asked.
"Yes, I'm afraid so."
"It's been more than a month! He hasn't mellowed at all?"
"Not a bit." Ducky looked over at Gibbs who hadn't even raised his head...although Ducky was certain he was listening to them. "I'm afraid it's only gotten worse."
"How much worse could it get?"
"Much worse. In fact, I'll be staying with him for the next few days."
"He is letting you?" Ziva asked in surprise.
"He doesn't want me there, but he has not yet resorted to physical attacks."
"You think he will?"
"He may...if sufficiently provoked. He has little control over himself at the moment."
Gibbs stood up to leave. Ducky, feeling a fraction of the frustration Tim must have felt, stormed over and blocked his way. He then continued speaking to Tony and Ziva, but looking at Gibbs the entire time. Jamie was watching the exchange, unsure of how to react. Her eyes kept shifting from Ducky and Gibbs to Tony and then to Ziva and back again.
"Timothy's mind is breaking down. If it falls apart, his body may follow and he may be lost forever."
"Is it that bad, Ducky?" Ziva asked.
"Yes," Ducky said, still staring at Gibbs. "It could be worse. He has not seen fit to explain himself to me."
"Ducky, I have a meeting."
"...that cannot wait to hear how Timothy is doing?"
"He's not on my team anymore. He's not my concern, Ducky. He already made that clear."
Ducky stood aside.
"Strange, but I would have thought that your concern for someone you have known for more than seven years would extend beyond your responsibilities as his supervisor. I would have thought that you might harbor some feelings of concern for him as an acquaintance, or heaven help me, a friend. Perhaps I was mistaken."
Gibbs said nothing but continued on his way. Ducky watched him go and then walked to the elevator that would take him down to Autopsy.
He looked back at Tony and Ziva who were both standing in near shock at the sudden anger Ducky had expressed. He thought about saying something to comfort them but let the doors close instead. What a tragedy that so many were being torn apart by something that had, more than likely, been preventable.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
James watched Tim empty out the pool cleaner. His obsession with the drowning frogs was weird. There was no other word for it. Every person experienced a bad undercover operation differently because every person was different. Tim's had been colored and corrupted by hatred and anger. Ducky had given what information he could, but James rather thought that most of the explanation was still inside Tim's head. He geared himself up for what was going to be a long and exhausting day for the both of them. ...and physically, it could be dangerous for him. At 57 years, he was younger than Ducky, but no spring chicken. However, his years of undercover work had kept him in good shape and he had been determined to stay fit for as long as possible. On the other hand, Tim was two steps away from a total physical collapse. It showed in how he moved, in the lines on his face, the obvious missing flesh from a body that had once had too much of it.
His mind could be even closer to collapsing, and that meant danger...for both of them. He wasn't sure if he should be trying to repair the mind or guiding it through to full collapse and then out the other side. Either path could work...or could fail. It depended on the person involved.
"Good morning, Timothy," he said, speaking as he purposely made a lot of noise coming out onto the patio. As he had expected, Tim jumped. He saw the fear that he expected and then that fear was subsumed beneath his hatred of the world at large.
"Between you and Ducky, I feel like I've been transported to England."
James smiled at the overt animosity and purposefully crafted a convincing American accent. "I can talk like an American, if you'd prefer that. What area of the country would you like me to be from? I can go with a stereotypical Southern drawl or New York...or even that Midwestern accent that could be from any one of more than a dozen states."
"You're not an American. Why pretend?"
"Why indeed?" he asked, letting his regular speech come back out.
"Are you just showing off?"
"Maybe. I was trying to let you feel more comfortable."
"Then, leave."
James laughed. "You'd like that, wouldn't you. Then, you could go back to flipping off the world for ignoring you."
"It's not like that," Tim said, putting down the pool cleaner with unnecessary force.
"What's it like, then?"
"None of your business! I didn't ask you to come here! Ducky did."
"Nevertheless, you agreed."
"To get him to shut up about it."
"That's the only reason?"
"Yes."
"Then, you're more of a fool than I thought before."
"A fool?" Tim asked. "Why?"
"Because in your desire to thumb your nose at everyone, you're doing exactly what they think you'd do. You're ruining your own life. Why would they have to try and do it for you?"
Tim didn't respond. He started to walk back to his chosen deck chair. James followed him, constantly on alert. He could see that Tim was already on the verge of attacking him, just to get him to go away. It wouldn't take much more.
"How long are you going to try and keep this up, Timothy? Why won't you acknowledge the idiocy of what you're doing? What do you expect to gain?"
"Shut up. It's none of your business."
"It's become my business. The moment you agreed to speak to me it became my business and as long as I'm here, that's what I'm going to do. You'll have to deal with it."
No response.
"What is in your nightmares, Timothy? What frightens you so much that you awaken screaming...or spend your nights watching poor defenseless creatures die? Why are you embracing a persona hated by everyone? What are you–?"
James was forced to stop his questions because Tim suddenly turned and tried to punch him in the face. Luckily, James was ready for that move and since Tim was functioning at a significantly lower level than he would normally be, it was a simple matter to catch his arm, twist it around behind his back and force him face-down on the deck chair, knee in Tim's back, while Tim began to writhe against his sudden helplessness.
"Let me go!" he shouted. The hatred was beginning to be replaced by fear. "You hear me? Let me go!"
"I don't think so," James said with a laugh. "You tried to punch me, Timothy. Why would I let you go? I gave you no threat and you responded with an attempt of physical violence. Why should I leave myself open to further attacks?"
"Let me go!"
"No."
Tim began to swear. Loudly. Creatively. He strained against James' hands.
"Stop that! I'm not hurting you."
"Let me go!"
"I won't. Not unless you promise me you won't try to take me down again."
There was a pause and then Tim resumed his useless struggle to get free.
"Let me go!" he shouted again.
"No. I told you. I won't unless you give me a guarantee."
More swearing, more struggling.
"Hey! Stop that! You're not going to get free unless I loosen my grip and let you go, and I'm not going to do that. You brought this on yourself, and I'm not going to do what you want me to do."
"You're just like everyone else!" Tim screamed. "You just want to try and beat me down! You want me to look like a fool!"
"No, I want to know that you won't act like an animal." James watched Tim struggle. It was almost sad because it was clear that he wasn't used to being so comparatively weak. "You're currently lying with your face shoved into a floral-printed cushion. I don't see how much more foolish you could look...and there's no one here to see it except me...and no reason for me to publish this for the world to see."
"Let me go!"
"You can repeat your demand all you like. I can sit here all day. Will you promise to behave yourself like the rational human being you used to be?"
"Let me go!"
"No. Here's the deal, Timothy. You promise that you will behave yourself and promise to have a civilized chat with me, and I'll allow you to sit up again. You will have to compromise. If you refuse, we'll likely end up like this until Don returns this evening."
"Let me go!"
"No. I have given you the conditions of your release."
Tim began to swear again.
"What if it were your father holding you down? Would you treat him in this way?"
Trembling silence.
"My father wouldn't be holding me down!" Tim shrieked. "He's paralyzed! He has been for years!"
James almost smiled sympathetically. He understood more than Tim realized, but this first step wasn't about understanding. It couldn't be because Tim wouldn't allow anyone to understand him.
"How about your mother?"
Silence.
"Or is she paralyzed, too?"
Tim gave one mighty burst of effort and almost succeeded in freeing himself from James' grasp, but James was ready for it and managed to keep hold.
"I told you that you're not getting away until you promise me."
"Why are you doing this to me?"
"Believe it or not, it's not because I enjoy it."
"Then, let me go!"
James sighed theatrically. "We're back to that, are we? You don't have a short memory, Timothy. You know how to get me to free you. It's easy. You simply have to admit that you were wrong, that you won't do it again and then have a chat with me."
James knew why Tim wasn't responding. That would mean the first chink in the wall of hatred and anger he'd erected. He would have to admit that he had messed up, that there was a flaw to his way of thinking. He knew what he was doing was wrong, but it was still right in his head. It might take a while to get him to capitulate, but he would eventually.
...when his fear of being trapped exceeded his need to be angry.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"Dr. Mallard?" Jimmy asked tentatively.
"What, Mr. Palmer?" Ducky snapped.
"Could you tell me what I did wrong?"
"What you did wrong?"
"Yeah...whatever it was, it must have been a doozy because you haven't been this mad at me since..."
"I'm not mad at you, Mr. Palmer. Sometimes, personality flaws just become intolerable."
"Which ones? I can try to fix them," Jimmy said humbly.
Ducky suddenly paid attention to what Jimmy was saying.
"Oh, I'm sorry, lad. It's not you. It's something else."
"Is it about McGee still?"
"I'm afraid so."
"You know...I wonder if he wanted this to happen."
"What?"
"Well...he was so mad at everyone...I'm wondering if he wanted us to be mad at each other...you know, to divide us."
Ducky stared at the corpse.
"You may be right. If it only weren't so easily done."
"Well, we can make mistakes, can't we?"
"Yes, we can, Mr. Palmer. We all do. I have made plenty. ...but in this case, the mistakes could lead to the loss of a young man who shouldn't be lost."
"If he wants to be lost, Dr. Mallard, shouldn't we...I don't know...let him get lost?"
Ducky smiled and looked at Jimmy.
"I would agree...if I thought that was really what he wanted, but I don't think that's the case. I think there is a part of him that wants to be found. I can't let him remain lost if I'm right."
"So...this is like a really long and weird game of hide and seek?"
"I suppose so, Mr. Palmer. Your simile is apt."
"Okay...so...who's it? ...and who's hiding? ...and how does McGee being really mad figure into the simile?"
Ducky picked up a scalpel. "If I knew the answers to all those questions, Mr. Palmer, I wouldn't be here at work."
"Where would you be?"
"Making miracles."
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
More than an hour passed with Tim refusing to give in, refusing to say anything other than accusations and demands...and profanities. James refused to let up. He was glad Ducky wasn't there. Then, he saw it...a single tear. It didn't matter whether Tim had meant to shed it or not. He was reacting.
"Let me go!"
"Will you promise not to attempt hitting me again?"
Silence.
"Will you agree to speak to me?"
Silence.
"I guess we'll just have to keep on as we are."
Another stretch of nothing...for about ten minutes.
"Let me go...please..." Tim's voice was almost quavering. The fear was winning out.
"Promise, Timothy," James said. "It's easy to do. You know all the words you have to say...but of course, you have mean them as well. That's more difficult. All it means is you exercising a modicum of self control. Promise not to hit me and to talk to me instead and we'll move on."
Another ten minutes of silence.
"Please, let me go," Tim's voice was positively shaking. He was more than frightened. He was terrified. James felt bad for the circumstances, but if he let him go without exacting the promise, Tim's anger would win out again and it would be more difficult to make him talk.
"Just promise, Timothy, and I will."
Momentarily, the anger returned.
"You're just like everyone else! Beating me down! Let me go!" He proceeded to swear a bit more.
"No, Timothy. Promise."
The mood pendulum swung back abruptly and Tim was afraid again.
"Let me go."
"When you promise."
Tim was quiet, except for his rather noisy breathing. He'd already tried pretending his air supply was being blocked. When that hadn't worked, he had gone back to demanding his release. Now, it was just that he was afraid and nothing he was trying was working. He knew what to do but everything in him was protesting it. It was obvious that he would almost rather face a beating than simply say that he would behave himself.
"Timothy?" James asked.
Then, without any ceremony, the capitulation came.
"...I...I...won't try to hit you again..."
"And?"
"And...I'll talk."
"All right." James eased the pressure, ready to redouble his grip should Tim be lying, but he simply went limp.
It was past two o'clock.
"You ready to talk, Timothy?"
Tim's eyes closed as he breathed loudly through his mouth. James waited. It was tempting to push it now, but the reason for his actions now was not to fix Tim. It was to get him to accept that he needed to be fixed...so that someone else could help him.
Tim suddenly pushed himself up into a sitting position. Disdain back on his face.
"You want to talk? Fine. Let's talk."
James smiled. Total capitulation...even angrily done was a minor success.
"Good. Let's talk then."
