Chapter 16

"That it, Boss?" Tony asked, looking around the backyard.

"Yeah."

"I'll take everything back to NCIS, if you guys want to go and talk to McGee about what happened." He tried not to sound eager to do so.

Ziva looked at him suspiciously. "Why?"

"Well...I don't think McGee needs to face all of us at once...and besides, I'm the one he punched out before, remember? I'd rather not risk a relapse. I don't think my nose could take another hit and maintain its integrity."

Ziva rolled her eyes, but Gibbs looked at him suspiciously.

"I'll do it, Boss," Tony said again.

"Fine. Then, you can..." His phone rang. "Gibbs."

He listened silently.

"You sure of that, Duck?" He sighed. "Fine. No. Fine." He hung up.

"What is it, Gibbs?" Ziva asked.

Gibbs looked at Tony. "When you get there, tell Vance that McGee may need protection."

"From what?"

"From someone trying to kill him. Ducky is convinced that someone involved in the drug case from last year is after McGee."

"Could we not–?" Ziva stopped and then shook her head. "He would not want us."

"Probably not."

She nodded silently but seemed slightly dejected. Tony took the opportunity to gather up the evidence and head toward the truck, leaving the sedan for Ziva and Gibbs.

"You might as well knock off when you're finished, DiNozzo," Gibbs said. "We're not going to get much more done today anyway."

"Got it, Boss," Tony said, inwardly celebrating the success of his foray. Now, he had the evening to implement his plan. He headed off, wondering if he was being silly about this when Tim's life could be in danger.

We do what we can...and McGee doesn't want our help anyway.

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

Dr. Lewis came into Tim's room and saw his patient. Tim still had an IV, his head was bandaged, but most apparent was his anxiety. Tim was sitting up in bed, holding his green teddy bear and rocking back and forth.

It was a classic picture of someone disturbed...but it didn't seem right. Something was off about the image.

"Tim?"

Tim didn't look up. "You have to take me back. You have to. I need to go back to the hospital."

"Why?"

"Because I'm losing it. It's safe there."

"Ducky told me...but Tim, you know that you're not."

Now, the rocking changed. It became less agitated...and more real.

"Tim, do you really think that you've lost your mind?"

"Yes."

Dr. Lewis smiled. "Look me in the eye and tell me that."

No response...and Tim refused to make eye contact.

"Tim, look me in the eye and tell me that you really think you've lost your mind again or are in danger of losing it."

Tim closed his eyes...and the truth came out.

"I wish I was."

"Why?"

"Because...then, it wouldn't be about me."

"You think it is?"

Tim nodded, eyes still closed.

"Why?"

"I recognized the guy who attacked me."

"You told Ducky you thought it was Jewel."

"I did...and I wasn't lying. I did at first, but then I remembered who it was. I've seen him before."

"You have?" Dr. Lewis was surprised by that.

"Yeah...a few times. Watching me."

"Why haven't you told anyone?"

"I don't want this to be about me." Now, Tim opened his eyes and showed his real anguish.

"Tim, someone tried to kill you...unless you're still going to pretend that you aren't sure about that."

"No."

"Do you know why someone tried to kill you?"

Tim nodded, again surprising Dr. Lewis.

"Why?"

"Because of the drug case that's supposed to go to trial in a few months." Tim shook his head and then winced at the injudicious motion. "I was the lead...agent undercover."

"But, Tim, that wouldn't get rid of the evidence you gathered."

Tim tried to smile but there were tears in his eyes. "It would if they could cast doubt on me...personally. If...If I was suspected of murder...and they could cast doubt on my work as an agent."

"Tim..."

"Don't you see, Dr. Lewis? Someone killed a man...killed him just as I threatened to kill him...and killed a man I hated...and made it look like I did it! Don't you see? If I'm not crazy...if I'm not imagining things...then it's my fault...because he wasn't killed for anything he did wrong, but because they wanted to make me look like a criminal!"

Inwardly, Dr. Lewis sighed. He strongly suspected that this tendency to take blame predated Tim's undercover operation. It just hadn't been helped at all by it.

"That's not true, Tim. If someone did kill this man to cast doubt on you...you still aren't guilty. Don't try to take blame on yourself for what someone else did. You know that's never a good idea."

Tim's grip on the teddy bear tightened. "...but if I hadn't been there. I didn't like him. I really didn't...but if I hadn't been there, there wouldn't have been a reason to kill him! If I had...I don't know...done something else..."

"Tim, if you're right, it doesn't matter what you chose. It matters what they chose."

"That's why I should go into the hospital again. It's safe there!"

Dr. Lewis shook his head. "Tim, we've been over this...more than once. That's not what the psychiatric hospital is for. It's not for you to hide from the world. You have to face it. If you don't, you'll never feel safe...no matter where you are."

Tim let out a shaky sigh.

"I thought I'd hit rock bottom before. I thought I couldn't sink any lower...but this is worse! This is a lot worse. Going nuts was...was easy compared to this."

"Compared to what?" Dr. Lewis asked and sat down on the bed.

"Everything that's been going on. People thinking that I'm still crazy...not being able to find a job anywhere...living where I do...trying to get on with my life when I don't even know what it is anymore. This is worse."

"I know it's bad right now, but that doesn't mean it can't improve. You just have to take some time...to let it improve. Tim, you've been sabotaging yourself from the beginning, going for jobs that don't really interest you, saying things that you don't need to say."

Tim buried his face in the plush head of the teddy bear.

"Have you told your team about what you know?"

Tim shook his head slightly.

"Why not?"

"It's their job to...to know what happened. It's not mine. Not anymore."

Curiously, there was no resentment. Tim was just stating what he saw as a fact.

"How are they supposed to know if they don't get information from witnesses, Tim?"

"Evidence. Investigating. That's their job."

"You need to tell them."

"No."

"Yes, Tim. As your doctor, I'm bound by doctor-client privilege, but you need to tell them about this."

"They can find out on their own," Tim said softly.

Then, it clicked. "Because they won't believe you?"

Tim said nothing, and Dr. Lewis decided it was time to be stern.

"You have a job, Tim. ...and it's not about being an agent. It's about being a responsible citizen. You have information about a crime. It's your duty to report that information. It doesn't matter whether they believe you or not. What matters is that you take control and you give them to the chance to accept or reject what you say. If you let this person get away with ruining your credibility...a lot more can go wrong than this murder. The prosecutors are already a little worried about needing me to testify to your mental acuity. Can you imagine if you were formally charged with murder? These people could get away with all the crimes they've committed...not because they're innocent but because other people believe you are guilty! Tim, you can't let that happen! Whether you're an agent or not, you can't let that happen. If you do you'll feel a lot more guilt from knowing you could have helped prevent that than you do right now."

There was a sound of someone clearing his throat from behind. Dr. Lewis turned and saw Gibbs standing there.

"We're just about through here, Agent Gibbs. Could you give me a minute?"

A nod and Gibbs withdrew. Nothing more. That was another sigh-inducing action. Gibbs really didn't make it easy.

"Tim, there's another reason you need to tell NCIS about what happened."

"What?"

"Because you need to stop avoiding all interactions with your former teammates. That's as good as saying that you're not over it...and you can't move on until you really engage with them and work through this continuing fear, yes, it's a fear. You are as afraid of them as you are of yourself, and that's not going to change if you keep hiding. Tell Agent Gibbs what you know and let him be the judge of what needs to be done. Stop believing the worst of yourself and of them."

Tim said nothing.

"I'm only a phone call away, Tim," Dr. Lewis said and then walked out of the room. Gibbs was standing at a discrete distance from the door. "Agent Gibbs?"

"You finished?"

"Yes. One suggestion?"

"What?"

"Take it easy on him. Let him work up to what he has to say because you're probably aware that he has things to say. Don't push him to what he knows needs to be done. Just give him some time. It might mean that you have to talk more than you want to, but believe me that if you can get him talking now, it will be better all around."

Gibbs merely grunted and headed toward Tim's room. Dr. Lewis watched him go and hoped that things would work out well.

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

Tony pulled to a stop in front of Tim's building. Perhaps it was in bad taste, but he was taking advantage of the fact that he knew precisely where Tim was...and besides, Vance had taken the possible threat very seriously and had sent two agents over to the hospital to be on guard duty. Tony himself was not needed...and this was something that he could do, insignificant as it probably was in the grand scheme of things.

He locked his car and headed up to Tim's neighbor's door. He knocked and waited.

The door opened a crack, showing a chain lock still engaged.

"What do you want now, Mr. Fed?"

Tony smiled. "I'd like to talk to you, if that's all right, Mr. –?"

"No need to call me mister. Just Jed'll do. What do you want to talk to me about? If it's questions about Tim, I have nothing to say. I told you already that he's not guilty of whatever you're investigating."

The door started to close, and Tony took a risk and put his hand in the space.

"Please, Jed. I'm not here as an investigator. Really. My name is Tony. I'm just here to ask you something...and yes, it's about Tim, but it has nothing to do with any investigation."

"Why don't you just ask Tim, then?"

"Because I can't."

"Why not?"

"He's in the hospital and he doesn't really like me very much right now anyway."

"What happened to him?"

"It looks like someone attacked him."

"He all right?"

"I think so. I haven't heard for an hour or so, but it looks like he'll be fine."

The door closed and Tony waited. After a few seconds, he was rewarded by the sound of the chain lock being removed. Jed opened the door.

"You may as well come inside. Not safe for someone like you to stick around here."

"Thanks."

Tony walked in and found an apartment much like Tim's...but it had the benefits of someone who had obviously lived there for many years. The bathroom had a door. There were pictures on the walls, a table that doubled as a counter, some chairs, a real bed. Jed might not be wealthy, but his apartment looked...comfortable at least, if not fancy or even very nice.

"Have a seat. ...and tell me what you want."

"What do you know about McGee?"

"Not much. He has great taste in music."

"What music?"

"Jazz. Not just any jazz, but the Dixieland revival." Jed smiled. "Any jazz is good, but I love Dixieland. He brings over his record player and we listen to it together."

Tony smiled even as he wondered how it was that Tim had become friends with this man.

"He doesn't talk about himself?"

"No. Lots of people around here don't like probing questions. He has stuff like that in his past...I don't want to know about it, You hear?"

"I worked with him before. He used to be an agent, too."

"Ah. That explains it."

"Explains what?"

Jed just smiled and shook his head. "Nope. I'll keep mum on that. You said you had a question for me."

"Right. Did you know that Tim had a typewriter?"

"Sure. Never saw him use it, but I know he had it. It seemed like something important to him. Never could understand why he decided to sell it. I still think he could have managed without pawning it."

Tony leaned forward eagerly. "So you know when he sold it and where?"

Jed smiled. "And if I did?"

"I'd ask you where."

"And if I happened to know? If I happened to have suggested a good place for Tim to go, suggested a guy I knew?"

"I'd ask you where and who that was."

"And what would you do with that information?"

"I'd go to the pawn shop and try to buy it."

"What if it had already been sold?"

"Then, I'd see if I could track down who bought it and buy it from that guy."

"Why? Why would you do that...Tony?"

"McGee being here is my fault. He quit and...it was kind of because of me...because of some things I said and did."

"And you've decided that getting his typewriter back is what you need to do?"

"No...I don't think there's anything I can do. I don't even know if McGee'll appreciate it at all. ...but I still need to do it. For McGee...writing is important, not just because of his novels. It's important because of who he is."

"And who is he?"

Tony opened his mouth...but then, he stopped and shook his head. "I don't know. I thought I did. I thought I had him pegged, but I didn't and my being wrong...really screwed things up."

"Penance, then?"

"Yeah, maybe."

Jed laughed. "All right. I told Tim where to go to pawn his typewriter...and I might have called my friend and greased the skids a bit. ...and I might have suggested to my friend that he keep the typewriter in the back for a while. ...and I might be able to tell you where and who."

"What will it take for the might to become a certainty?"

Jed leaned forward and looked straight into Tony's eyes. "You promise me that you're not planning on using this to bribe Tim to like you again, that you're not trying to just appease your own guilty conscience. I like Tim. More than that...I owe him. I owe him a lot, and I don't want to see someone use information he got from me to try and play with Tim's feelings. I don't know anything about him, but he strikes me as being a bit overly-sensitive...if you know what I mean. Little things can hurt him, even if he knows they shouldn't."

"I promise. That's not what I'm trying to do. I don't think anything will change how he feels about us. He already told me it was too late to say I was sorry. That was more than a year ago."

"Well, then, I'll tell you. The pawn shop is on the northwest side of DC. Guy who runs it is an old friend of mine." He looked at Tony shrewdly. "You surprised I know someone over in that area?"

Tony wanted to deny it, but he nodded.

"People around here...most of us are dirt poor, but we weren't always...and even those of us who have always been poor...being poor isn't a bad thing on its own. You have enough to live on, that's enough. I never been in debt once in my life. I missed out on some things, maybe I could have had better jobs and such like that, but I never owed a man a dollar I couldn't pay back. That means something to people."

"Means something to me," Tony said, genuinely impressed.

"Good. Erik Golden...great name, isn't it? He runs Golden Pawn over on Connecticut Avenue. Tell him what you're looking for and that I sent you over. I can't promise you that he hasn't put it out, but he did tell me he'd try to keep it back for a while. I don't know how many people really want to collect typewriters, though."

"That's enough," Tony said, standing instantly. "That's way more than enough. Thank you, Jed."

"No problem...but you remember your promise. I might be thirty years older than you, but I still remember how to stand up for my friends."

Tony grimaced. "I think I forgot how to do that, myself. Thanks." He turned toward the door.

"Hey, Fed," Jed said, sitting calmly at his table.

"What?"

"It's never too late to say you're sorry, son. In fact, if it is too late, then saying sorry is even more important than it was before. Just a thought."

Tony gave a half-smile. "Thanks."