Chapter 12

"It's not Ronna Howard," Tony said as he settled back on his chair. "She doesn't have a firm alibi, but she's not the one."

"She is angry and bitter but she would not have the ability to do it," Jamie said.

"Could she have had access to sedatives?" Gibbs asked.

"Sedatives?"

"Turns out Lance Corporal Smythe was drugged before he was shot."

Tony shook his head. "I doubt it, Boss. There's nothing in her background indicate access to sedatives."

"What sedative?" Jamie asked.

"Remifentanil, Abby said."

"Oh...well, I don't think she could get that," Jamie said. "It's not just available on the street easily to my knowledge."

"You have a lot of experience with that?" Tony asked, grinning.

"No more than you, Tony," Jamie retorted instantly. "Probably a lot less, in fact."

"Thanks," he said sarcastically.

"Just trying to help move the case along."

"I'd like that," Gibbs said with a warning in his voice.

"Where's Ziva?" Tony asked.

"Still with Arnie, I guess."

"New boyfriend?"

Thwack!

"Thanks, Boss."

"Tony, go down and..."

"Work with Abby to find out who could have had access to this...remi...fe..."

"Remifentanil," Jamie finished for him.

"Yeah, that."

"Jamie..."

Jamie rarely tried to finish Gibbs' sentences for him, but this time she smiled...at Tony, as she answered. "See if Tim could have had access to remifentanil?"

"When you get done with that, check on the crime statistics for the neighborhood where he lives."

She cocked her head to the side. Even Tony stared.

"Why?" Jamie asked.

"I think it might matter. Go!"

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

Ducky was relieved to find Tim gone when he got back from NCIS that evening. He saw the note Tim had left him and smiled.

"Good. Good lad, Timothy. Take care of yourself."

He set about making dinner for himself, knowing that Tim would call when he was ready to do so. The house was more lonely when it was empty like this, but perhaps it didn't have to stay that way. The smile changed and Ducky dialed a number he had neglected for some time.

"Hello, Jordan. Yes, it's Donald. I know it's been a while. Are you free for a late dinner this evening? I know it's short notice."

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

Ziva sat back and looked at the lists, the time frames, hours of details.

"I'm sorry to have kept you so long, Ziva. I get attached to the details. You know what they say."

Ziva smiled. "I do not know."

"God is in the details."

"Yes, I have a feeling He must be. Who else could remember them all?"

Arnie chuckled. "Good point. So...does this help?"

"It helps some. It does not give an exact time frame, but it gets me closer. McGee's gun was not in the batch shipped back to Sig Sauer two months ago. That is important. It must have been taken from here."

"But I don't remember seeing it hanging around with the spares we kept on hand. I don't read the registration numbers every time I walk by, but I remember where things are and aren't."

"So...it went missing between three and four months ago. You cannot narrow it down any more than that?"

"Nope. Sorry. I remember it getting turned in, not by Agent McGee either. It was Agent Gibbs who did it. I put it back with the others we had on hand, secured but visible." He tapped a few keys on the old computer which he had set running a search. It was slow and so the search hadn't yet finished. It finally beeped at him. "Ah, this might help you."

"What?"

"I have no indication of Agent McGee coming in here for a visit. I make everyone sign in and out. If he showed up, it was after hours."

"I did not say I was looking for McGee," Ziva said.

Arnie chuckled. "You think I'm an idiot, Ziva? I'm hurt. I know what you're doing. People's tongues wag and I listen. Ah, here's something you might want to know."

"What is that?"

"Back a few months, within the time frame that we're looking, there was a request to see Agent McGee's gun."

Ziva leaned forward, now interested.

"From whom?"

"From some lawyers. They didn't come personally, but they had a signed form giving permission to examine Agent McGee's gun."

"Why?"

"As a part of their mounting defense in that drug dealing case that still hasn't come to trial. I can't believe the pace of the justice system sometimes, you know? I thought it was supposed to be a speedy trial, not a snaily trial."

"Did they take it with them?"

"No. Course not. Didn't have permission for that...although I think they would have if I had been willing to let them. They examined it. Took pictures. It's their right when the weapon was involved in the case."

"Yes. Yes, it is. Could you describe the person who came?"

"Sure. I can do better. I can give you a picture!"

"How?"

"We haven't converted to digital cameras around here. Not important enough. We're old school and rather than reuse tapes, we save them for five years and then destroy them." Arnie smiled. "Aren't you glad you hung out with me today?"

Ziva felt a leap of excitement. "Arnie, I will bring you any dinner you want if you can show me who came here to look at McGee's gun."

"Anything?"

"Anything. I will make it myself."

"And eat it with me?" He winked.

Ziva laughed. "If that will make the evening more enjoyable for you, yes."

"Oh, it will. Excellent. Come with me, Ziva. Step into my antiquated storage system and let's see what we can find."

Arnie stood up only slightly creakily and held out a gallant hand. Ziva grinned and took it, allowing him to help her up. Then, she followed him back to the racks of tapes in storage.

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

Matt got home later than he had wanted, but earlier than usual. He had rushed through the meetings he could rush and cancelled what he could cancel. If Tim was bad enough off that he was actually asking for help, then it must be bad and he didn't want to let this happen without getting some help from a friend. When he opened the door, he could hear the excited giggle of a child getting spoiled by attention. It made him smile because he could also hear Judith in the kitchen which meant that Tim was the one making Chris laugh. He always liked seeing Tim play with Chris. It was one of those things, much like seeing Tim with Sarah, that reminded Matt of how young Tim was inside. That was something that the years hadn't changed. When it was possible, that youth came out and revealed itself...perhaps because of so many years of repression.

"What kind of a circus do I live in?" Matt shouted.

The excited giggle was replaced by Chris shouting, "Ga ga ga ga ga!"

For whatever reason, that meant "Dad".

Matt put his briefcase on the bench in the front hall and tossed his keys on the table...just in time for Chris to reveal himself, scooting into view in the peculiar crawl he utilized in place of walking or anything else normal. It was almost like he was swimming on the floor. Matt laughed.

"How's Chris doing?" he asked and dropped to his knees.

Chris giggled and swam/crawled over to Matt and then climbed up his legs until he was standing. Matt took his hands and held him upright.

"You're looking great!" he said.

"Flattery will get you nowhere."

Matt looked up and saw Tim standing in the doorway. He was smiling but there was a definite shadow in his eyes, tension in his stance. Yes, it was bad.

"You've been entertaining your Uncle Tim?" Matt asked, standing up with Chris in his arms.

Chris gave his Tim goo.

"He's never going to learn your name, Tim. You're going to be that weird sound for the rest of your life."

Tim smiled again. "Could be worse."

"How?"

The smile vanished. "It could always be worse."

Matt walked over, shifted Chris to one hip and slung his free arm around Tim's shoulders.

"Sure, but that doesn't mean it will be worse."

"Some things will be."

"Sounds like you're having a rough time, Tim. You ready to talk about it?"

"Not now. Later, okay?"

"Sure." Matt led them all into the kitchen. "What's for dinner tonight?"

Judith looked up from a cookbook and smiled. "I'm trying something new. Lime chicken."

"Lime? That's different. Any good?"

"I don't know, Matt," she said patiently. "It's new." Then, she walked over and kissed him. "I'm glad you're home."

"Me, too."

"Especially because that means one of you can set the table and one can make sure our little monster doesn't decide that he can climb up the stairs again."

Chris began clapping his hands and bouncing in Matt's grip. Then, he reached out for Tim.

"Ah, the king has spoken," Matt said and handed Chris to Tim. "I will set the table. You guys go and play."

Tim took Chris and Matt watched as the tension and anxiety melted away in response to Chris' enthusiasm.

"I'll take him outside."

"Just keep an eye on him," Judith said as she started zesting a lime. "Chris has decided that the pool is the best place to be. He loves his bath and the pool is apparently just like it in his mind. We've taken him to those baby swimming classes where they teach the babies to flip onto their backs in the water, but we'd rather not have to test it."

"I'll stay away from the pool. Probably not the best place for me either to be honest."

Before Matt could say anything, Tim smiled and carried Chris outside. He closed the screen door but left the other open. Matt walked over and watched Tim as he set Chris on the ground and started walking him toward the little playset they'd bought after the adoption.

"What's going on, Judith?" Matt asked.

"I wish I could tell you. He's not wanted to talk about it yet. I'm not pushing. It's enough that he's come to us for help...although he told me that it was because Ducky told him to."

"I'm not complaining about that, but we should get him to talk sooner rather than later. I learned my lesson last time. Maybe if we had pushed before..."

"What?" Judith asked. "He wouldn't want to avoid our pool? We've done the best we can and that's enough."

"I know. I just don't like seeing him so miserable. I wish he wasn't so dang stubborn and would just let me help him out."

Judith walked over and put her arms around Matt's waist.

"You are helping...and you know what would help me?"

"What?"

"If you'd stop moping and start setting the table."

Matt smiled and patted Judith's hands.

"As my wife commands."

Matt set the table and dinner was ready about an hour later. They ate all together, cleaned up and then played with Chris for a few minutes before putting him to bed. Judith read him a story. They listened for his crying but there was nothing...meaning that they could talk.

"Okay, Tim. What's going on?" Matt asked as they sat in the living room.

Tim shifted uncomfortably on the couch and looked out the front windows.

"Tim, come on. Tell us. You're welcome to stay no matter what," Judith said, "but you should let us know what's going on."

Tim took a deep breath.

"Lance Corporal Smythe is dead. Murdered. At Soft-Tech."

Matt nodded. "Sounds not fun. I know you didn't get along with him but..."

Tim interrupted. "No. You don't understand. I was there. I was there when he was murdered. I didn't hear anything. I have no alibi. I was there alone. I was working. I threatened to kill him. I threatened to shoot him. I don't have a gun, but I threatened to shoot him." He spoke more quickly as he got wound up. "He was shot using my gun. No matter who killed him. It had to be because of me. Somehow. I don't know how. I don't know why! ...but he's dead. I don't care, but he's dead. ...and they're investigating. They had to. It had to be them, but they won't arrest me and I don't know why!"

Matt stood up and walked over to where Tim was sitting.

"Tim, calm down...and slow down. I'm not following. What's wrong with not getting arrested? If you're not guilty, then they shouldn't arrest you."

"They don't know that I'm not guilty. All the evidence points to me, but they won't arrest me!"

"Tim, why is that a problem?" Matt asked.

"Because they're not doing what they're supposed to do!" Tim said. "...and I can't..." He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, you don't need to pull back, Tim," Matt said. "We're not judging you. Tell us what's going on and we can try to help!"

Tim dropped his head and stared at the cushion on the couch.

"I'm afraid that..."

"What, Tim?"

Tim lifted his head. "I feel like this is all about me, no matter how dumb that sounds. I feel like...what if...what if I did kill him and I just don't remember? What if I just lost it like I did last year? He was killed with my gun! That can't be a coincidence! What if I killed him and don't know I did? Everyone already knows I'm capable of murder! I've done it before! What if I did it this time? What if I went crazy and killed a person who was a jerk but shouldn't have died? Everyone at Soft-Tech thinks I'm crazy anyway. What if I really am? I don't have a grip on myself...and seeing them...it's... I'm... ...and I don't want anything that I've done to rub off on you!"

Judith joined the two men on the couch.

"Tim, I can't imagine that you've done anything so wrong as commit murder."

"I've killed people before."

"In the course of doing your job. That's completely different," Matt said. "If that wasn't the case, I'd be in a whole lot of trouble after being in the Army."

Sandwiched between Matt and Judith, Tim slumped back against the couch and closed his eyes.

"I'm just so afraid of being what I was. I thought I was better, but since this started..."

"Tim, you are better. This is just a setback. You're not crazy," Matt said.

"How do you know? How can you know? You can't," Tim said.

"Maybe not in terms of being able to scientifically prove that you're sane, but I do know. For one thing, you weren't diagnosed with any sort of mental disease or syndrome that is permanent. You're not on medication for the problem you have. You are dealing with something very difficult, something that changed you, but you're not crazy."

"I don't want to be. I don't want to be like that again."

"That's why you're not. You said it yourself before that you knew what you were doing was wrong but you didn't care. You care now. So you're not the same as you were last year. Remember, Tim: you're not crazy and you're not a murderer."

"Are you sure of that?"

Matt met Tim's questioning gaze full on. "Yes. There are very few things I'm more sure of."

Tim smiled a little. "I wish I could be so confident."

"I know."

"I don't want to be a bother."

"You're not. I promise."

"And if you're wrong?" Tim asked, his eyes frightened. "If I really am...what I think I am?"

Matt saw that it was a real question. He refused to let even a particle of doubt enter in. "I'm not wrong. ...and you're not what you fear that you are. So there's nothing to worry about. If you have nightmares, that's fine. If you have a few meltdowns, that's fine. I'm not afraid of you, Tim."

Tim's mouth quirked in a half smile.

"...but I am."