Chapter 32

Dinner was a rather solemn affair. Tim said little...ate little...and left as soon as he could. He fed Jethro, let him outside and then crept around to listen in on Ducky and James as they chatted. He was certain that they'd be doing the same thing everyone else had been doing when they thought he couldn't hear them: putting him down. Quietly, he snuck around to the front of the house, let himself inside and walked just as silently to where he could listen.

"...on her grave. I was furious. I couldn't believe someone would deface a grave marker," James was saying.

"That's awful," Ducky said sympathetically. "Were you able to get the graffiti off?"

"Not all of it. The cemetery groundsman promised that he'd see what he could do. If they can't clean it off, I'll have to order a new headstone. The one I have cost over 600 pounds. Lorie wouldn't care, I know, but it's important to me to have it there...without vulgar epithets spray painted all over it."

"Was it targeted?"

"Well, I'm not sure. It's possible, after all the work I've done over the years, but more than likely, it was some delinquent who simply was interrupted before he could do more."

"Other than that, how are things?"

James laughed a little. "Gesine has finally stopped trying to get me to remarry. I thought children were supposed to resent it if their parents married again, not encourage it."

Ducky chuckled good-naturedly. "Gesine. How old is she now?"

"Thirty-one years, not that she'd appreciate the reminder. Her thirtieth birthday was traumatic."

"Aren't the big ones always that way? I haven't had a chance to visit London in a long while."

"I know. You need to come out our way sometime...meet my grandchildren."

"Indeed. I love Washington, D.C., but I do get homesick, even after all these years."

Tim withdrew as silently as he had come, strangely disturbed...feeling as though he had heard something he shouldn't, although he couldn't say why. He went up the stairs to his bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed.

Tomorrow, he'd have to answer more questions, have to have James niggling around inside his brain, trying to figure him out, trying to force him to see "reason". He wanted to tell him to forget it...but he had promised Ducky. He couldn't lie.

Why not?

"Because if I'm better than everyone else, I have to do what they wouldn't do...that means I'm honest."

...but it would be so nice to escape from all that for a while, just forget everything about his life, about himself. It would be wonderful.

...and he could do that, Tim suddenly remembered. He leaned over and opened the drawer beside his bed and pulled out a largish pill. He still could recall Jewel pressing it into his palm with the order that he be ready for later. He'd kept it. Was it later now? Why not? What did he have to lose?

...and yet... He had promised Gibbs he wouldn't take any more than the one he had.

Gibbs doesn't rule your life anymore! You can do what you want!

Still, Tim hesitated, looking at the pill in his hand. He jumped, startled, as loud laughter burst up from downstairs. For some reason, hearing that hurt. Without another thought, he put the pill in his mouth and swallowed. Even if he felt ill afterward like he had the first time, it couldn't possibly be worse than he felt at every moment of every day and night.

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

It was amazing how the time could pass in pleasant conversation with an old friend. Ducky was surprised to notice the time. He might not have paid attention, but Jethro began whining and pawing at the kitchen door to be let in.

"Oh, dear. It's been more than two hours! Where is Timothy?" Ducky asked as he got up to open the door.

"Well, he was eavesdropping an hour or so ago," James said. "I got a glimpse of him, but I haven't heard anything from him since then."

"I'd better check to see where he is."

James smiled and stood. "I'll look outside. The worst I can get is another dunking in the pool."

"I'll check upstairs."

"Don, how in the world did you manage to leave him alone for a month?"

"By convincing myself that it was the best course of action. Now, that I know otherwise, I could never do the same."

"I understand. I'll see if he's outside. I pushed him pretty hard today. He might have fallen asleep again."

"I doubt it."

Ducky headed for the stairs, and as James opened the door, Jethro streaked inside, past Ducky and up the stairs. That made him feel worried. Jethro generally seemed to stick to Tim wherever he was...which, on the surface, was strange considering how little Tim seemed to regard the animal.

There was a heavy thump. Ducky increased his pace. As he neared Tim's room, he heard Jethro whimpering. The door to Tim's room was open.

Tim was on the floor, half naked. His face was flushed and pinched with pain. As Ducky watched, he curled onto his side, twitching violently.

"Oh, no." Ducky saw that Tim's window was open wide and he hurried over to it. "James!"

James ran around into view.

"Call for an ambulance. Now! Something's happened!"

James nodded and headed back around the house for the door. Ducky turned back and knelt beside Tim.

"Timothy. Can you hear me?"

The twitching calmed slightly and Tim's eyes opened. When they fastened on Ducky, he began to laugh, between gasps for air and groans. He rolled onto his back.

"Timothy, what happened?"

The laughter became almost painful to hear, and tears leaked from Tim's eyes as he struggled for breath.

"She...it's funny...Ducky. So...funny." More laughter.

"What did you take?"

"Guess...shouldn't...be very hard."

"Ecstasy?"

"Almost."

"Where did you get it?"

"Jewel...her special...she...gave it to me...that last day."

"You've kept it all this time?"

"Why not?" Tim laughed again. "Took..me by surprise. Wasn't...like this the first time."

James ran into the room, phone to his ear. "What is it, Don?"

"Ecstasy, probably with PMA."

"What?"

"It's from the case he was investigating. Long story." Ducky put a hand on Tim's forehead as Tim began to twitch again. Then, he felt for Tim's pulse. "Hyperthermia. Tell them to hurry. He has the symptoms of sertonin toxicity."

James nodded and continued with his terse answers to whatever questions were being asked of him.

"Timothy...why? Why did you do this?"

The twitching eased once more and Tim let out another pain-ridden laugh.

"Seemed...like a good...idea...at the time. Thought...I'd feel better."

James hung up the phone, went into the bathroom and then returned with several wet towels. He knelt down and Ducky looked at him fearfully.

"I don't know what to do, James," he whispered. "Not here."

He wasn't soft enough.

"Just...leave it... Fitting, isn't it?"

Tim's eyes closed and he began to convulse.

"They'll get here," James said.

Abruptly, the convulsions ceased and Tim was limp briefly before fighting for breath again. James placed the towels on Tim's bare chest, one smaller towel on his forehead and a couple on his arms.

"What...you doing?" Tim asked.

"Trying to bring your temperature down so that you don't fry your brain."

"Doesn't matter. None...of it matters. Throbbing in...my head."

"It does matter, Timothy. You can't die like this."

Tim's eyes opened to narrow slits and he laughed. "Gotta...die somehow. Why not now...instead of later?"

"Is that what you wanted?"

"Not necessarily. Just...meant to be."

More convulsions. They lasted longer this time and Ducky cleared the towels away so that they didn't get tangled up, particularly the one on his forehead. When they calmed again, Tim was on his side in a fetal position...and began gagging.

"Tilt his head," Ducky said. "We can't have him choking on his vomit."

Working together, James and Ducky managed to direct Tim's retching onto the floor, even when he continued twitching, making it more difficult to control him.

"Hot..."

"I know, Timothy. You're hyperthermic."

The sirens could be faintly heard and James stood quickly.

"I'll get them and show them where to come."

Ducky only nodded.

"Stay with me, Timothy. Please."

"Why?"

"Because I care about you, lad...and I don't want you to die."

"Why not?"

"You are a good person, Timothy. You don't deserve death."

Weakly, Tim lifted his head and looked at Ducky...and then, he shook his head.

"No...I'm not, Ducky. I'm not...a good person."

The twitching increased and Tim curled into a tighter fetal position as his muscles all tensed and his lungs and heart struggled to function in spite of the drug currently damaging the signals.

The EMTs came into the room. Ducky moved out of the way to let them do their job. They moved Tim onto the stretcher quickly and then hauled him away. The suddenly silence, the sudden calm seemed out of place after the ambulance was gone. Ducky stood in Tim's room, shaking his head.

James came in after a few minutes.

"James...I never imagined...even knowing about Tim's mental state. I never even considered this as a possibility."

"Neither did he, Don. He didn't think he was killing himself. He thought he was making himself feel better. It's not a good thing, but it should be a comfort at least that he wasn't trying to die."

"He didn't care."

"No, he didn't."

Ducky took a breath and collected himself. He looked at the floor.

"We should clean that up. Timothy would hate to know that he'd ruined the carpet."

James smiled faintly. "His friend is going to regret that he asked Tim to come. Exploding showers, invaders, vomit on the floor."

Ducky nodded. "Yes...quite against type."

"Do you know where the cleaners are in this mansion?"

"No, but I'm sure we can find them."

"All right. We'll clean and then we'll go. They took him to Germantown, wherever that may be."

"I can get us there."

"Are you all right, Don?"

Ducky smiled. "No. I'm not. ...but I'll live. I don't know if Timothy will."