Chapter 23
"No...no...don't touch...stop...no..."
Tony woke up, wondering where the moaning was coming from. It wasn't Ziva...since it was a male voice.
"Not like you...no..."
"McGee, wake up." That was Ziva. Tim...right, of course.
Tony shook his head to clear the cobwebs of sleep away and got up. He had only been asleep for an hour or two, trading off with Ziva in getting some shut eye.
"Jewel...stop...stop it. NO!"
"McGee!" Ziva said more insistently.
Tony stumbled out of the spare bedroom and to where Tim had been sleeping. His eyes were open in the disturbing way that sleeping people sometimes had.
He's still dreaming about Jewel? Tony asked himself.
Then, Tim actually screamed and sat up. The movement, stretching his bruised and battered body as it did, pulled him from his nightmare. Tears were wetting his cheeks as his eyes only gradually began acknowledging the existence of external stimuli. His gaze looked around the room in momentary confusion and then rested on Tony and Ziva staring at him. He was breathing heavily but started to flush in embarrassment.
"S-Sorry if I woke you up," he muttered and looked away.
"It's okay, McGee," Tony said, more shocked by Tim's extreme reaction than he had thought he'd be. "Are you all right?"
Tim laughed a little and winced. His face almost crumpled but he got it under control.
"Sure. I'm great. I'm fine. Nothing to worry about. It just happens sometimes. Not important. Don't worry." Then, his voice dropped almost to a whisper. "You never worried before. Why start now?"
Ziva looked at Tony and he knew they had both heard and understood to what Tim was referring.
"We were asleep that night, McGee," Ziva said after a long pause. "We did not hear you. We were not intentionally ignoring your request. I have wished...many times...that I was awake to hear you."
Tim looked at her and his lower lip trembled for just a moment before he stopped himself.
"You had plenty of opportunities to ask if I was all right," he said and then looked at Tony. "You had every chance to ask questions, to show concern...and not make light of what was happening. That was one moment in eight months."
"But I do regret it," Ziva said. "I am sorry."
"It's too late for sorry...and it's too early in the morning."
"But can you believe that we're sorry, McGee?" Tony asked.
"Sure...you're sorry now, not back then. How many times, other than the time I heard you...chatting...how many times did you talk about how you didn't think I could do it, how I wasn't good enough to do the job, that one of you would have done better?" He looked at Ziva and began reciting. "'I would not have thought it possible but McGee is doing a good job.'" Then, he looked at Tony. "'Being undercover is hard and McGee's pretty green.' And as I recall, you also complained that you could have done it better...even then. So...other than what I heard, how often did you say the exact same things or variants on the same criticisms?"
Tony was surprised at what Tim said...if for no other reason than that he could quote exactly what he seemed to have heard so many months ago. It had bothered him enough to get shuffled off into his permanent memory. He had known Tim resented how he'd been treated, but to go this far? That was a surprise.
"Or how about all the times you said you liked Thomas better than you liked me? Did you ever feel the slightest twinge of regret for saying those things before I went nuts? Did you ever bother to notice how much I hated you and resented you for how you treated me? I'm not even saying that all I did was justified. It wasn't... but did you even bother to notice?"
Tony looked at Ziva who seemed equally surprised by what Tim was saying.
"We did notice, McGee," Ziva said. "We were worried about you. We even asked Ducky to be there to speak with you so that he could evaluate your status."
"Yes...and the only thing you worried about," Tim retorted, "was whether or not I was going to go native and start working for the bad guys for real. I heard you talking that day. You weren't worried about the fact that you were pushing me too far, that you weren't being supportive enough. You were only worried that I might screw up again."
"No!" Ziva protested. "No, that is not all. We were truly worried about you...about you, McGee, not about the operation only."
"Could have fooled me. You sure didn't show it."
"That shouldn't surprise you, Probie. We're not the best at that."
"Don't...call me that," Tim said fiercely. "You never change. You think that you can say sorry and everything is okay again. You think that one moment of regret is enough to make up for months of willful ignorance. Well, it's not. That day when I told you about their plans, about how they were trying to get rid of the competition...did you ever stop to think about how much I regretted the people who died because I didn't say anything about what they were doing?"
Tony didn't know what Ziva was thinking but if he were honest...
"No...McGee. No, I never thought of that," Ziva said softly.
"You never wondered if it kept me up at night? You never wondered, while you were parsing my behavior that you might have done something wrong? You never considered the possibility that I was reacting to what I saw as...as utter neglect? Never? Not once?"
"Not soon enough."
"Got that right. Like I said...it's too late to be sorry."
Tim started to lay down again although it was clear to Tony that he wouldn't be sleeping just yet.
"A smart guy told me that it's still important to say sorry, even when it's too late...or maybe especially when it's too late. ...and I am sorry, McGee. For a lot of things...but I'm really sorry for not...getting you."
"What do you mean?"
"I should have known better. I know that what works for me doesn't work for you but I ignored that."
Tim sat up again. "Meaning?"
"I...screwed up."
"Oh, it was all an innocent mistake?" Tim asked. "That's what you think it was? Just one little oops moment and that's it?"
"No," Tony said, quickly. He could tell Tim was intentionally needling him, but also that he was baffled by what Tony was saying...because he wasn't explaining himself very well.
"Then, what are you saying? Because I'm not getting it."
Tony wracked his brain trying to think of what to say...and he had intended to let it out, but it just slipped out before he could stop it.
"I...I got your typewriter, McGee! I was trying to...to...fix things."
"You..." Tim's eyes widened and then narrowed. "You...got my typewriter? How in the world do you...did you...even know where it was?"
"I asked Jed."
"My neighbor?"
"Yes."
"Why?" Tim asked, sounding almost hurt. "Why would you–?"
"Because...McGee, you're the guy who...who has a typewriter!" Tony said, feeling helpless. "You're not the guy who lives in that dump and...and...and has to sell his typewriter to pay his rent. I was just getting it. I wasn't understanding before, but...but you're not that guy! ...and I wanted to help you be who you were...even if I didn't get it."
"My typewriter...you...had no right to...to butt in like that. I could have got it back sometime."
"Would you?" Tony asked. "...because if I'm getting you now, you never would have. I don't know why, but you wouldn't do it."
Tim looked away.
"Am I right, McGee?"
"If you think that...then, why would you do it? Mr. Golden gave me a good price on it. It couldn't have been cheap...so why–?"
"Because it's not you...and I think you want it back, McGee."
Tim laughed. "Where am I going to put it, D–... Where am I going to put it?"
"We have a table here."
Tim laughed at him and then winced a little. "And what would I write? What do I have worth writing about?"
"Must it be worth something?" Ziva asked.
Tim's eyes moved to her.
"I thought you enjoyed writing."
"You thought a lot of things that were wrong," Tim retorted.
"Am I wrong about this, McGee?"
"What does it matter? As soon as the case is over, I'll be gone again."
"Is that...really what you want?" Ziva asked, sounding almost plaintive.
"Why would I want to stay? Tell me...what is it that you think I'd gain from sticking around?"
There was a short silence. Tony opened his mouth to say...something, but Ziva beat him to the punch.
"Perhaps you would gain nothing...but I...have missed you, McGee."
"Have you?" Tim asked, with very little interest. He was looking at Ziva as though waiting for the end of the joke.
"Yes, McGee. I have."
"Why?"
"What do you mean?"
Tim let out a soft burst of laughter. "It's a simple enough question. Why? For one thing, I didn't get the sense that you cared much while I was undercover, and when I came back...well, I'm fairly certain you weren't all that enamored with how I was acting. If you try to tell me you were, I'll know you're lying."
"I did not like it, but I still did miss your friendship."
"Didn't seem to bother you before...like when I got picked over you. You sure weren't thinking of friendship then."
"No, I was not."
Tim sighed and shook his head. "You know what, guys? It's late...or rather early. Too early for this. Go to bed. I give you permission to ignore me if I start screaming again. I won't care this time. Don't worry. I always wake up eventually."
Tony could see that Tim didn't want to keep up the conversation, but there was one thing he just had to know...if Tim would open up even a little bit.
"McGee?"
"What?" Tim asked, sounding...tired.
"I just have one question if...if you'll answer it."
A slight smile. "And what would that be? You going to tell me you tracked down my Porsche, too?"
"No...couldn't afford that on my best days."
The smile widened by a fraction and then vanished. "What?"
"You're still dreaming of Julia Westin?"
Tim looked at Tony and then away.
"Yes. Obviously."
"Why?"
Tim looked down at the blanket for a long moment. Tony would have sworn that Ziva had almost held her breath in anticipation of what Tim might say...or if he'd lose it and start yelling again. Tony thought, however, that Tim didn't have the energy to yell. Not right now. ...but he started to doubt whether Tim would answer as the silent seconds extended.
He turned to leave, Ziva following him without speaking.
...and then...
"Because I'm still afraid of that part of me...the part that was willing...no, the part that was wanting to kill. That still scares me and that's what I dream about."
Tony turned back to say something, but Tim's face was still turned downward. He wouldn't lift his gaze to them again. Instead, he lay down and faced the wall instead of his two former teammates.
"Good night, McGee," Ziva said softly. "Pleasant dreams."
No response.
Tony left and Ziva followed him out to the main room.
"I thought he would be more angry," Ziva said quietly. "Not so afraid."
"Yeah." Tony looked back at the motionless form in the bedroom. "I wish he was...mad at us...instead of afraid of himself."
"Yes. That would be much better."
"It's almost my shift. You might as well get some sleep."
Ziva nodded and went to the other room without complaint. Tony doubted that she'd sleep, though. He certainly didn't feel tired any longer.
What remained of the night was passed in absolute silence.
...but no one was sleeping.