Chapter 18
Tim didn't sleep much that night. ...but for once, it wasn't because he was having nightmares. It was because he was thinking, thinking about what Ducky had said to him, thinking about all the terrifying things that were circulating around him.
...and yet, it wasn't David Collier or Antone Grant who frightened him the most. It was...
"Me. I'm the most frightening part of this equation."
Sometimes, when he looked at himself, he felt as though he was looking at a stranger. What had happened to the person he had always thought of as Timothy McGee? Where had he gone? What was left in his place was a wet noodle.
As the sun rose the next morning, Tim was still awake, watching it. He never spent much time watching the sun. He had too much to worry about from financial woes to his mental health, to do something so worthless as watching the sun come up.
...but he was watching it now. He was waiting. Unlike at his apartment, he wasn't waiting for it to be safe to leave. He was waiting for it to be late enough to make a call. He'd made a decision that, quite frankly, terrified him, but he felt that it was the best, perhaps the only option. Maybe Ducky was right. Maybe he did need to try making a real choice rather than hiding. He knew that was what he'd been doing...and to some extent, he felt that he'd needed that time, even if it had led to his injuries, his fear.
No place in the world was really safe. ...but hadn't that always been the case? Everywhere he had gone, someone was injured, someone had attacked, someone had been lost...something. His father's injuries and subsequent dismissal from the Navy. His own bullying in high school. His car accident. His missteps at MIT which had led to his being ostracized. Every place he had lived carried its share of heartache...and outright injury.
It had always been that way...so why was it such a big deal now? Tim couldn't explain that, not even to himself. He knew that it shouldn't be a big deal, but it was. Every bit of his life that he couldn't anticipate or control was a part of his life that was dangerous and should be eliminated. He had to control it. Not even the people he trusted could aid in that control. It was all about what Timothy McGee could control.
The sun dazzled him as he watched its rising and he had to blink and look away.
I can't control the sun, Tim thought wryly. ...but then I know exactly what the sun is going to do...and could know for years in advance if I put my mind to it.
No, Tim knew that he couldn't let what he wanted take the place of what was needed. What he wanted was for everything to be easy again, easy like it had been before when he hadn't needed to try to decide how he should react in a given situation. He had just reacted and gone on with things. That's what he wanted. However, he knew that he needed to face down all these hard things, hard situations...and face down all the people he wanted so desperately to avoid.
Who was the person that caused him the most trouble right now? ...well, besides himself, that is.
There was only one choice...
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Erik Golden arrived at his shop early in the morning. He usually had to clean up junk people left at his front door and he had to get rid of the guys who wanted to pawn stolen or fake merchandise before the law-abiding customers came. Pawn shops had bad reputations because of how some people ran them, and he was determined not to be associated with those kinds of places. His shop was completely aboveboard and he intended to keep it that way.
So when he saw a well-dressed man standing by the entrance to his shop, he figured he'd have to get him moving. He was always very polite about it, never making trouble unless they asked for it.
"Good morning," he said pleasantly. "There are rules about loitering."
The man smiled. "I'm not loitering. Just waiting for the shop to open."
"Well, I run the place."
"You're Golden, then?" the man asked.
"Everything I touch," Erik returned and unlocked the door.
The man followed him inside, not asking if he could. Clearly, this was a guy who was accustomed to getting in anywhere. That could mean a few things. At worst, it could mean big trouble if this was a guy who didn't know how to hear the word no. At best, it could be an undercover cop hoping to track down something stolen.
Erik walked back to the counter and then looked at the man who was standing patiently, now a bit uncomfortable.
Erik watched him warily for a few seconds and then made his decision.
"I run a clean place here. I don't buy, sell or trade stolen merchandise. If that's what you're here for, you can clear out. I have to go into the back and get things ready for the day. If you're gone when I come into the front again, I won't remember who you are. If you're here to rob me or rough me up or something, I'd like to draw your attention to the security cameras. If you're here to do legitimate business...well, you can wait until I'm good and ready for it."
Having said his piece, Erik went back to organize goods that were coming to the end of their contracts. If the owners didn't come back to pay for their goods, he'd put them out front to sell. Many of his customers did come back, but some never did. He had a good line of buying and selling used items, but a lot of his income came from people who pawned an item and never came back to reclaim it. He had a good stock of jewelry, mostly gold, that he was amassing to sell in bulk to one of the bulk gold dealers. He wasn't rolling in the dough, but he had a good thing going and wasn't about to let anyone ruin that for him.
After half an hour, he decided he'd given the man out front enough time to reconsider and he headed back to the counter. The man was still there.
"So you stayed. What do you want? Buying? Selling? Pawning?"
"Buying...I hope."
Interested, Erik looked at him. "You must have something specific in mind. What is it?"
"A friend of mine sold an old typewriter here a few months ago. I was hoping that you still had it in the back or somewhere in this...chaos," the man said, waving his arm around the shop.
"I might. Why isn't your...friend here doing it?"
"He doesn't know I'm here. I had to ask Jed where he sold it."
Instantly, Erik relaxed. "Jed sent you here?"
"Yeah. Asked him last night."
"So if I called him to verify–?"
The man pulled out a phone. "You want to check? Go ahead."
"I don't normally ask people why they want to buy something. I usually just sell it...but..." Erik smiled. "Why do you want to buy it?"
"Why does it matter?"
"Because...the guy who sold me that typewriter looked heartbroken about selling it. ...and because he did something for Jed that...well, that not many people would do."
"What did he do?"
Now, Erik hesitated. The man seemed earnest and Erik generally counted himself as a good judge of character, but still...
"Who are you?" he asked.
"Name's Tony."
"You a cop?"
"When I'm at work. That's not why I'm here."
Erik grinned. He was glad to have one of his suspicions verified.
"So you're here because–?"
"Because...Tim McGee...the guy who sold you the typewriter...he used to work with me. We used to be friends. It's a long story. I'm trying to get the typewriter back for him. If you've got it, I'll pay whatever you want for it. If you've sold it, I'll...probably beg you to let me know who bought it."
"Couldn't do that. It's illegal. I'd lose customers if something like that ever got out. It'd be a violation of privacy."
"I'd still beg."
Erik rolled his eyes. This man was probably at least forty years old, but he sure wasn't acting like it.
"What did McGee do for Jed?"
"Nothing that most people would consider heroic. He himself probably didn't, but Jed remembers it...and Jed and I have been friends for twenty years. If Jed remembers it, so do I."
"Do you have the typewriter?" Tony asked. "Please?"
Erik leaned on the counter and stared at Tony for a long moment.
"You aren't getting it for free."
"I don't care! If you have it, I'll pay for it. Mark it up 200 percent! I'll pay it!"
Erik chuckled. "I couldn't do that. It'd be bad for business. Wait here."
He went into the back room again and headed for his private office. Inside, there wasn't much to see. A desk with his work computer. A lamp. Shelves of books. Filing cabinets.
...and an old-fashioned typewriter. Actually, if you didn't know the typewriter was there, you wouldn't see it. Erik kept it under a protective cloth. He didn't know much about typewriters beyond that he was glad the computer had been invented and they could move on from the typewriters to keyboards. This one was, however, in mint condition. Tim had taken very good care of it and it deserved to be cared for in the same way. He'd always hoped that Tim would come back and try to get it...but even when he'd seen him, there had been something about Tim that said it would never happen. Tim wanted his typewriter but he'd never come for it. Even so, Erik had kept it...mostly because Jed had asked him to. Now, he pulled it off the filing cabinet and lugged it out to the counter.
"It'll cost you $400," he said.
"You gave McGee 400 bucks for this?" Tony asked.
Erik couldn't tell if Tony's incredulity meant it was too high or too low.
"No, I didn't. It's going to cost you $400. You ready to pay?"
"You take Visa?"
"Visa, MasterCard, American Express. Heck, I'll even take Discover."
"Great. Versatile," Tony said, pulling out his wallet.
"Have to be in my business."
"I guess so." He handed over the card. Erik swiped it and gave it back.
"Painless?"
"Until I get my credit card bill."
"Worth it?"
"Yes." Tony picked up the typewriter. "Man, that's heavier than I thought it was."
"Deceptive things. Don't drop it."
"I won't." Tony started leave but then he turned back. "McGee probably won't really appreciate this...since it's coming from me, but thank you."
"Why is this so important to you?"
"I'm trying to make up for some past mistakes...past idiocy. This won't fix it, but it might help."
"Good luck to you, then. What if Tim comes in here and wants his typewriter back?"
"Tell him I have it...but he won't come back for it."
Erik was surprised that Tony had the same view as he did on Tim's interest in the old typewriter. As he left the store, Erik wondered just what had happened to make this worth it.
"First time I ever lost money on something," he said aloud. Then, he chuckled. "Jed owes me big time."
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Ziva chuckled at the mewing sound coming from her spare bedroom. She'd never tell Jamie, but after handing off the kitten she'd chosen from Brian Moore, she'd found that she wanted one for herself and had gone back after hours to pick another from his herd. He had been so happy to get another kitten off his hands that he'd given her the same supplies he'd given to her before. This one was black from head to toe...with the exception of the tips of her ears and the very tip of her tail. They were white. ...and then there was the adorable pink tongue. Ziva loved her and had decided to name her Lailie.
It was a good thing Lailie was a cat and not a dog because Ziva knew that she couldn't be here as much as a puppy would require, but cats took care of themselves...to the extent that they could. That was the kind of pet Ziva needed.
As she hurried in her preparations for work, Lailie came out of the spare room and began curling herself around Ziva's legs.
"Oh, you," Ziva said with a smile and picked up her kitten. "I must get to work. You will make me late."
Lailie's bright pink tongue poked out of her mouth and touched Ziva's nose. Ziva laughed and put her down.
"I will not let you distract me, Lailie."
She quickly finished getting ready, made sure there was plenty of food available and headed out the door. As she got into her car, she was suddenly struck by a thought...one that she had firmly tried to keep herself from thinking.
I would love to let Tim see her.
Ziva's heart twisted as she thought of Tim's recent past. Maybe there would be a way. Maybe she shouldn't give up hope. Maybe.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Tim chickened out on making the call he needed to make. Waited too long and then it was too late to call. So...he made another call. It was to a person he didn't know very well...and really hadn't ever spoken to when he was in his right mind, but he thought that it might be the best option for the moment.
For once, he didn't think about the cost. He didn't think about the idiocy of his actions. He didn't think about anything but getting it done.
"Oaks residence."
The female voice gave Tim pause. He hadn't expected a female to answer.
"Uh...is..." His courage, already in short supply, began to fail him.
"You want to speak to my father?"
"Yes...that's it... I mean, yes, thank you. Is he...there?"
"Yes, he's here. Whom may I say is calling?"
"Tim...McGee."
"All right. I'll tell him."
Tim chewed on his lower lip while he waited.
"Timothy McGee?"
"Hi. James."
"It's nice to hear from you, but what's the occasion?"
"I...I wanted to ask you something."
"All right. Go on then."
"Um...I don't really...really know how to put it into words."
"I'm afraid I can't help you with that unless I know what it is that you're thinking of."
"Why am I still so afraid?"
"Depends on what you're afraid of."
"I don't want to go back."
"Where?"
"To them."
"Them being–?"
"The people I used to work with. Every time I see them...my stomach ties up in knots. I just want to get away. It's been over a year. Why am I still like this?"
"What does your therapist say? You are still having sessions with him?"
"He says I need to talk to them, that I can't get past this without talking to them...but why am I still afraid of them?"
"Why do you think I'll know?"
"Because...you were right about me last year."
James laughed lightly. "I'm flattered."
"Please? You have a lot of experience with this stuff. I've been doing things right before. Why can't I now?"
"Probably because you don't want to."
"I want to be back to normal."
"Sure, but you don't want to risk it."
"Risk what?"
"Giving up the control you have over your own life. If you talk to them, you have to risk not knowing what they'll say, what they'll do. You can't know...and let me guess: You've got your life pretty well controlled, haven't you?"
"I guess."
"You have a job?"
"I do right now, but it's only temporary."
"And so are you living in your own place?"
"Yeah. It's crappy, but it works."
"And you have your day all planned out?"
"Everyone does that."
"That's not what I mean, Timothy."
"Yes."
"You're not ready to let go of controlling your life. Until you can do that...you'll be afraid of your team because you know that you can't control them."
Tim sighed. "How do I do that?"
"That I can't tell you. You just have to try it...and see if you can."
"What if I can't?"
"You'll never know unless you try...and considering how much you've done before, I fairly certain you can do it again...if you try it. If you risk it."
Tim took a deep breath.
"You already know all this, don't you. You've already decided that."
"I don't..."
"...want to do it? Of course, you don't. Taking those kinds of steps is frightening. ...but you have a lot to gain if you do. From what Don told me, you were fairly scared of leaving the hospital when it came time for that."
"Yeah. I was. I still wish I was there sometimes."
"It's all about control, Timothy. You need it...or rather you think you need it. In reality, none of us can control our environments, not to the degree you think you should. You let yourself get into that mindset...it's hard to break out of it, but you should make the effort."
"Dr. Lewis never put it like that."
"Dr. Lewis is more than likely a skilled psychiatrist...but he's never been undercover."
Tim smiled.
"Now, Timothy, do what you already planned on doing before you called me. Do it secure in the knowledge that it's the right step to take. Do it even though you might not be able to handle it right the first time. Just do it and don't put it off. You won't feel ready, but you never will."
"Thanks, James. I never did thank you for everything you did. It can't have been fun."
"No, it wasn't, but it was worth it. ...as I told you it was before."
"You sure about that?"
"Positive."
Tim said his good-byes and then sat quietly on the bed. When the doctor came in to check on him, he was pleased with Tim's physical status and arranged for him to be released later than morning. Matt and Judith picked him up and took him back to their home. When they got back, Chris sat himself on Tim's lap and refused to move...so he was sitting there when Tim explained what he wanted to do and asked for a ride. Both Matt and Judith were unsure about the idea but they agreed. Matt insisted on driving Tim over after dinner. Tim agreed.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"Tim, are you sure about this?" Matt asked as they waited in the car.
"No."
"Do you want to do this?"
"No."
"Then, why are you doing it?"
"Because I have to. If I don't do it now...now when I'm...when I might be able to do it...I never will. It has to be now. Now or never."
"I'd almost be happy with never."
"So would I...but I've been relying on almost for too long. I need to stop that."
A car pulled into the driveway.
"Wait in the car, please," Tim said.
"You need anything, just holler and I'll be there guns blazing."
"It won't be necessary."
"Just in case."
Tim smiled and got out of the car.