Chapter 13

Tim didn't sleep well that night, although he was quiet. No one heard a peep from him. Chris woke up once, demanding attention, but Judith ran to quiet him and he went right back to sleep, not a care in the world.

If only Tim could be so lucky. By morning, he had only had a couple of hours of genuine sleep and was unable to do more than doze after about four a.m. As confident as everyone else was about his sanity, Tim couldn't feel the same. He was too afraid of slipping back into his previous state of mind, that of hatred of the world around him with no concern for himself or others. He didn't want that. He really didn't want that, not now that he was aware of how wrong that mindset was...and how much damage it could cause.

He wanted to be normal again. He just couldn't figure out how to do it.

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

"Who is this guy?" Tony asked, staring at the image on the plasma the next morning.

"He is David Collier," Ziva said. "He is listed as a private investigator, but he has much about him that is...hinky."

Jamie chuckled. "Hinky?"

"There is no other word for it...or at least I cannot think of one." Ziva shrugged. "He came to look at McGee's weapon, with documentation from Antone Grant's lawyer that it was part of their defense to have access to the weapon used to kill Julia Westin." She pushed play as Collier came into storage and made his request. There was no sound but he was made no threatening moves. His body language was completely polite.

"What's hinky about him?" Tony asked.

"He has no background. He has worked as a private investigator for only one year...and yet, there is no indication that Grant's lawyer searched for anyone more experienced or with a better reputation...and there are many options. He was their first and only choice. Why?"

"Any connection with Grant or his lawyers before this last year?" Gibbs asked.

"Not that I or Abby have been able to find. It seems that he has only been in DC for the last year."

"Before that?"

"That is the hinky part," Ziva said. "He was nowhere. I cannot find David Collier before last year. He must have changed his name, but he did so in a way that I cannot discover. Abby is still working on it."

"Address?"

"He's registered with the DMV," Jamie said, turning to her computer. She typed in a few commands and brought up his driver's license. "There you go. Reston, Virginia. Hey, isn't that where Ducky used to live?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"Just interesting. That's all," Jamie said.

"What are you waiting for?" Gibbs asked.

"Which of us?" Jamie asked.

Gibbs looked at Jamie. "Remifentanil."

"Uncommon as a street drug," she said. "Mostly used as a sedative in surgery and for pain relief after surgery. So far as I can tell, Tim wouldn't have been able to get ahold of it. It doesn't seem to be much of a possibility. He doesn't have enough money."

"Are you sure of that?" Gibbs asked.

"I haven't seen any sign of hidden funds."

"Have you looked?"

"Do you want me to?" Jamie asked.

Gibbs nodded. "Do it."

Tony and Ziva both opened their mouths to protest and then simultaneously decided not to say a word.

"Tony, Ziva, go and check on Collier. Jamie, get going on McGee's finances. Don't hold back."

"I wouldn't dream of it. Do you want me to ask Abby for help?"

"Only if you have to."

"I understand."

Tony and Ziva grabbed their bags and headed for the elevator. Jamie sat down at her computer and began to file the requisite requests. ...and Gibbs sat at his desk and looked at the eyes on his computer. He sighed.

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

Tim went out to the deck chairs beside the pool after breakfast that morning. He was still so tired from his rough night, and both Matt and Judith could tell. They ordered him to try and get some more rest while they took Chris out for a walk...and a chance to see the horses.

Tim agreed and fairly collapsed onto a convenient chair. He looked at the pool, remembering the last time he was there...and the frogs. He had been tempted to go out and look at them during the night but had resisted, knowing that it wasn't a good idea. However, now, with the sun up, the day bright...and his knowing he wasn't alone here, Tim felt himself relax. Nighttime was a bad time for him, no matter where he was, but it was better just knowing that he was safe here. After a while, his eyelids drooped and he fell asleep.

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

"It does not appear that anyone is home," Ziva said as they got out of the car. It was a small house, part of duplex.

"Is he in A or B?" Tony asked.

"A."

"After you," Tony said, gesturing gallantly.

Ziva grinned and preceded him to the door. They knocked. ...and knocked again. No one home.

"Do we go in?"

Ziva knocked once more and the door swung open.

"It is open."

"How did you do that?"

"I did nothing."

"Right." Tony stepped inside. "David Collier? Federal agents!"

No response. The house was silent. Tony and Ziva stepped inside and drew their guns. They walked side by side, clearing each room, not that there were many to clear.

"He apparently runs his business out of his home," Ziva said, staring in at the small study.

Tony looked over her shoulder. "Apparently. ...and he doesn't seem to be very busy."

"Why do you say that?"

"There's not even a filing cabinet in here. He has a little stack of paper on the desk."

"Perhaps he has merely joined the digital age."

"Possible, but I think he'd have to keep some form of hard copy."

"No sign of him being here," Ziva observed. "We cannot use anything we find if we get it without a search authorization. We should go."

Tony looked around and then nodded. "I don't know that we'll find anything here anyway."

Ziva headed back out front but then stopped by the front door and crouched down.

"Tony, look at this."

"What?"

Ziva was very carefully moving a small stool. She shifted it about two inches and then pointed to a small wire...which led back behind the curtain...to a small supply of what looked suspiciously like C-4.

"He has rigged this home. A...boob-trap?"

Tony snorted. "Booby-trap."

"Is there any real difference?"

"Connotation mostly."

"Ah."

"How sensitive?"

"It is not on a timer. It looks as though there is a way for a signal to be received. How many private detectives are worried about someone looking through their home?"

"Not too many. Let's go," Tony said. He stepped out onto the porch and then headed over to the car while Ziva replaced the stool to the exact same position and then closed the door behind her as she left.

She joined Tony as he called Gibbs.

"Boss?" he said. "We've got something here...not what we expected. Yeah. No, Collier's not here, but he's set up his house to explode. Ziva says it's signal-activated. Yeah... I don't think he's just a private detective. Can we get an authorization, you think? ...yes, and a bomb squad."

Ziva smiled at the addition.

"We'll be good. Promise." Tony paused and then held out the phone. "Gibbs wants to hear you promise to leave the bomb alone."

Ziva laughed. "I promise I will keep my hands to myself, Gibbs."

Tony put the phone back to his ear and listened. Then, he hung up.

"We have to wait for the bomb squad, but Gibbs is getting the search authorization."

"Good."

Tony looked at the house, suddenly pensive."

"What is it, Tony?"

"This guy was looking at McGee's gun. McGee's gun was used to commit murder. Even if he didn't do it, and he didn't, but even so...this has something to do with him."

"Yes, but what? And why?"

"I don't know, but I'm beginning to think that McGee's in more danger than anyone else in this thing."

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

A swirl of memories melding into nightmares and Tim began to wake up from his slumber. He didn't know how long he'd been asleep, but long enough to be disoriented by his sleep. He thought he could sense someone nearby. It could only be Matt or Judith, but for some reason, he was worried. His eyes were still closed, but he knew someone was standing near him.

You're just like me, Mac. Just the same...

He couldn't shake off the nightmare. He began to struggle to wake up completely, to get away from his fear and return to reality. As bad as it was, it couldn't be as bad as what he was seeing.

Nothing you can do. You can't get away...

Tim finally was able to open his eyes. He jolted awake and looked up.

...and screamed in terror.

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

"What do you have, Jamie?" Gibbs asked.

"There's nothing in Tim's records to indicate any secret stash of funds. He's barely getting by, Gibbs," Jamie said, looking up from her computer. "If he wanted to get a hold of it, he'd have to get someone else to buy it for him, and I can't see anyone in his life who would do that. The only one who would have access is maybe Ducky...and that's a maybe. He could get a hold of it, but you know he'd never do that."

"What about the crime stats?"

"I've got those, but I don't know what you're looking for."

"Send them over to me. You head out to Reston. Once the bomb squad is done, help Tony and Ziva."

"Yes, Gibbs." Jamie stood up, bag in hand, and then she paused. "Gibbs?"

"What?"

"It's been great working with you all, but I just want to let you know that I won't mind if you decide you want someone else in my place."

"Who would we put in your place, Agent Davidson?"

Jamie smiled. "Agent McGee, maybe?"

"He's not an agent and he doesn't work for NCIS."

"Just wanted to let you know that I won't be offended."

"Get to Reston."

"On it...Boss."

Gibbs looked up in surprise. Jamie had, not once, used that particular title. She grinned and headed for the elevator. Left alone, Gibbs pulled up the statistics for crimes committed in Tim's neighborhood over the last year. He almost winced at the high number of thefts and burglaries that took place in the area. Not very many arrests. A few shootings, a few assaults. And yet, even with all that, Tim being on the receiving end of three muggings, plus a home invasion. That seemed much too high to be coincidental. He wasn't sure why this was bothering him, but his gut was telling him that it was important. He made a note to himself to ask Tim about the incidents. He needed details.

For now, however, he turned his attention back on the murdered Marine. This case seemed more and more likely to be related to Tim somehow...but it was also looking less and less like he was the murderer...a fact which made Gibbs relieved while at the same time worrying him.

If Tim wasn't a suspect, then he must be a victim.

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

The scream carried across the yard and Matt looked at Judith for only a few seconds before handing Chris to her and taking off toward the house, Jethro right by his side. It didn't matter that they hadn't really ever heard Tim scream before. What mattered was that it was Tim screaming now and he must be in some sort of danger.

Matt's heart was in his throat as he sprinted toward the pool. When he got to the fence, he felt as though the whole universe shuddered for just a moment. Tim was in the pool, face down, blood oozing from his head. He took all that in instantly and without another thought, he kicked off his sandals and jumped in, noticing a bloody spot on the edge of the pool as he did so. It was consciously noticed only briefly but was filed away for later investigation. Right now, all his attention was on getting Tim out of the pool.

Matt turned Tim over. He was out cold. Quickly, he lifted him out of the pool, onto the side. Judith arrived with Chris in her arms.

"Call 911, Judith. Hurry," Matt said and started CPR. As he started chest compressions, he shouted after her. "Get me something to bandage his head! ...and get a blanket!"

He began mouth-to-mouth again. Tim couldn't have been in the water for very long. From the time he'd heard the scream to when he reached the pool was probably less than a minute. It had to have been. Not very long. Tim could be okay. He would be okay.

He did chest compressions again.

"Come on, Tim. Be okay," he said softly.

Judith came out of the house, phone to her ear, blankets in her hand...and Chris in a baby carrier. He was fretting but at the moment they had to worry about Tim first.

"He's not breathing?" Judith asked.

"No."

Breath. Breath. Training from years before came back as if it had been yesterday. Matt remembered using this same technique on friends of his...friends who hadn't survived.

Breath. Breath. Chest compressions. Fast. Hard.

"The ambulance will be here soon."

Matt only nodded.

Breath. Breath.

Tim started to cough and water began streaming from his nose and mouth. Immediately, Matt turned him onto his side. The coughing continued with no noticeable inhalations.

"Come on, Tim," Matt urged.

Jethro was pacing back and forth, whining worriedly. It only added to the noises going on all around. Tim coughing. Chris crying. Jethro whining. Matt wanted to tell everyone to shut up, but he knew that wouldn't really help matters.

Finally, a strained, noisy inhalation, followed by more coughing.

"Scissors, Judith," Matt said. "We have to get him out of these clothes. I'm not going to risk pulling the shirt over his head."

Judith nodded, ran inside and returned. As she handed it to him, an inappropriate smile crossed her lips.

"He loves this shirt. He'll never forgive you."

"I hope he has decades to resent it," Matt said and cut the shirt.

It wasn't cold outside, but Tim was shaking. He wasn't really conscious, but he was definitely breathing now. Breathing and coughing. Without pausing, Matt pulled away the shirt he had sliced to ribbons and then pulled off Tim's pants, leaving him only in his boxers. Then, he covered Tim with the blanket, being sure to leave Tim's airway clear. Judith grabbed the destroyed shirt and pressed it against the large bleeding cut on Tim's head.

They had Tim in the recovery position, covered by the blanket, by the time the ambulance arrived. Tim's eyes opened slightly. He reached out for Matt.

"What is it, Tim?" Matt asked.

"Ssssomeone...hhhhhere..." And he was out again.

Matt didn't have a chance to get any more information because the EMTs came, talked with them for under 30 seconds and then whisked Tim away. Judith began comforting Chris, holding him close and swaying gently. Matt stood up, running his thumb back and forth over the empty space between his fingers.

"He said someone was here," Matt said.

Judith nodded.

"We have to call the police."

"No, Matt. NCIS."

"Tim wouldn't want that."

"It doesn't matter," Judith said. "What other reason could there be for someone coming after Tim? It has to be something with NCIS. Call them."

"...and Ducky...and Abby. They'll want to know."

Judith nodded again and got Chris to stop crying, although he was taking the heart-wrenching, shuddering breaths. Evidence of his fear.

"Here, take Chris. I'll call."

Matt nodded and took his son in his arms. He sat down on one of the chairs, still breathing hard from the exertions. Jethro padded over beside him and whined pitifully.

"It's all right, Jethro. He's going to be fine."

Chris clung to Matt tightly.

"I hope."