Chapter 33
Tim stayed in Autopsy until lunch and then Jimmy took him back up to the conference room. Tim didn't really want to hang out with Jordan Hampton. She was nice enough, but there was too much going on for him to need outside scrutiny. He avoided talking to anyone else that day...except Abby who dragged him down to the lab so that he could walk her through what he'd found and how he'd found it. Other than that, he hid. Jimmy did drop in on him again, letting him know that Ducky was feeling a bit better and that he was still worried about Tim, but that was all. Tim knew that someone was likely watching him...or at least the conference room to make sure he didn't try to sneak out again.
When Dr. Lewis came back that evening, Tim had done very little beyond talking with Jimmy and walking Abby through everything he'd found. He knew that Gibbs had been working, that the others had been working. ...but he didn't have a job. He didn't have responsibility. All he had was the order that he stay hidden.
No value as anything but...but what? In spite of what Jimmy had said, there was still that voice inside him that said he had no value at all, that any value he might have possessed had vanished when he killed Jewel, when he quit NCIS, when his mind had snapped. All that was left was an empty shell which had no value and should be trod underfoot for the good of humanity.
Timothy McGee was nothing but a plague.
...but before he could sink any deeper into that omnipresent quagmire, there was a knock on the door.
"Come in," he said dully.
"Sounds like things are going well, Tim."
Tim looked up and managed a smile at Dr. Lewis. He saw Tony hovering behind him but chose not to acknowledge him. Dr. Lewis closed the door and sat down.
"Type anything?"
Tim shook his head.
"Why not?"
"Can't."
"You mean you won't. You have the ability and it belongs to you."
Tim shook his head again. "Not to me. It belongs to the person I was, not who I am now."
Dr. Lewis sighed and leaned forward. "Tim, we've talked about this. Over and over again, we've talked about it. You know that you're still the same person. You know that the feelings of worthlessness aren't true. ...but you just can't seem to bring yourself to believe it. Why not?"
"Because...what will that mean?"
Dr. Lewis furrowed his brow. "What do you mean? What will what mean?"
"If I'm wrong...if I'm the same person...if I'm not worthless...then, what good am I? If I'm the same person...that means that...that Timothy McGee is a murderer...that Timothy McGee is the one who sacrificed lives...that Timothy McGee is the one who felt all that hate...all that anger...that Timothy McGee is the one who almost killed himself. I wouldn't do what I've done. I wouldn't...be that person...but if..." Tim shook his head again.
"Tim, you are the same person, but you were dealing with something you were ill-equipped to deal with. You don't have to excuse what happened, but you do have to accept it...and then you can change."
Tim sighed. "I...don't feel like I can. Every time I try..." He looked up. "Ducky could have died!"
Dr. Lewis took a breath as if he was making a difficult decision.
"Okay, Tim. Let's talk about that."
"About what?"
"What if Ducky had died? What then?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean what would you have done? What would you have felt? What would you have thought? Let's say that Dr. Mallard isn't just convalescing in the hospital. He's dead. Cold and dead. The bullet actually got him right in the head and he's gone."
Tim felt his stomach tighten up at the thought.
"Tell me, Tim. If he was dead, what would you have thought?"
"My fault."
"Why."
"Because he was there because he cared about me...because if I wasn't there, he wouldn't have been."
"What about the man who actually shot him? Doesn't he bear any responsibility for the death of your friend?"
"Of course, but..."
"No. Tim, did you want that man to kill your friend?"
Tim winced at the image he could all-too-easily picture in his head of Ducky dead and bleeding on the sidewalk.
"No, of course, not, but..."
"Whose fault is it, then? Is it your fault even though the last thing you wanted was to have your friend killed or was it this man who actually shot him with the intent of shooting him? This man who feels no guilt about almost taking another man's life. Which? You can't have both, Tim. You have to choose."
Tim stood up and walked away. There was no punching bag in here and he hadn't needed that for a long time.
"It's..."
"What? What, Tim? Answer the question."
"It's my fault!"
"Why?"
"Because it has to be my fault! Everything that goes wrong has to be my fault because if I weren't there it wouldn't have happened. What I feel doesn't matter! All that matters is that it's my fault, that I am ruining people's lives just by living myself."
"That's how you feel? No one else's choices matter but your own?"
"You make it sound like..."
"Like you're letting yourself become as focused on yourself as you were before? Like the hatred has gone anywhere because now you're simply hating yourself instead of everyone else?"
Tim sat down at the other end of the table, rested his elbows on the table and then closed his eyes tightly and jammed the heels of his hands against his forehead. He sat there for an unknown period of time...and then he heard Dr. Lewis sit down beside him.
"Tim, you will never heal from all this if you hang on to this anger and hatred. It doesn't matter who you're hating. If you can't let it go, it's never going to end. You can't hate them forever. ...but you can't hate yourself forever either."
"But I hate what I've done! I hate those feelings I've had! I hate where I ended up. I hate what people think when they look at me."
"Tim...you can't do anything about any of that. None of it! What you did and the feelings you had in the past...they're done! You made that choice already and you can't change that. You can't change what people think. You can't change what people do. What you can change is how you feel now. What you can change is what you will do in the future. But the past? There's nothing you can do about the past...except learn from it. And you're not doing that right now. Instead, you're letting the past rule you, take control of everything that you think and feel. And that's a choice you're making. It's not something you have allow to happen."
"Then...why does it feel like I do? Why do I feel like I don't have a choice?"
"Because you have been through a lot, not only in the last couple of years, but in the last couple of months. ...but you have to try and let this go. You're not fighting against anyone else now. Only yourself."
"Those people who..."
"No, Tim. The real fight you have is to conquer your fear and loathing. That has to be your focus now because you can't help the others with this case while you're holding yourself back. You just can't. You won't work as well. You won't feel as good. You won't want to be there with them. You need to accept your flaws and work with them."
"I know I have flaws."
"No. You feel you should be perfect and so when you find that you aren't, you think you're worthless. That's not acknowledging flaws. That's tearing yourself down. Knowing you have a flaw or two...or five...doesn't mean you think yourself worthless. It means you try and improve yourself, work around those flaws...or find a way to make those flaws into strengths. It's possible, but you have to see value in yourself first."
There was a long pause.
"You have to learn to see yourself as Dr. Mallard must see you."
Tim couldn't bring himself to look up. He couldn't bring himself to move, but he'd heard the words. They'd penetrated, mingled with the words others had said to him. It was a strange sensation, a feeling that maybe he could do something. ...but there, lurking on the other side of this tentative thought, was that black voice of Jewel, whispering that he could only be of use if he were dead.
Weaknesses into strengths...
"Tim?"
Tim lifted his head.
"Can I talk to Ducky? Is there any...safe way?"
Dr. Lewis blinked at him for a few moments.
"I don't know the answer to that, but if you'd like me to ask, I can do that for you."
Tim nodded. He didn't want to ask himself.
"All right. Think about what I've said."
"I am."
Dr. Lewis smiled. "Good." He stood up and walked out of the conference room.
Tim sat in the same seat and didn't move. He was afraid of what he'd been told. He was afraid of confronting that dark part of himself head-on. He hid from it. He ignored it. ...or he let it become all he was...but he didn't confront it. Ever. He didn't know how.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
An hour or two later, there was a knock on the door again.
"Come in," Tim said, warily.
"Hey, McGee," Tony said. "We're setting you up."
"For what?"
"To talk to Ducky!" Abby said coming in behind him.
Tim saw that they both had an armful of electronics.
"How?"
"Easy! ...well, sort of easy. Easier and safer than getting you over there. Obviously, Ducky couldn't get here. So we sent Ziva over to the hospital and we're setting up here. So you can talk!"
Tim looked at Abby and then at Tony.
"Really?"
"Of course! You said you needed to talk to him. I'm sure he wants to talk to you now that he's more alert!"
Tony set up the camera while Abby got the monitor hooked up. He didn't say much of anything. Instead, he just followed Abby's instructions. Tim watched them both with a strange feeling inside him. He couldn't understand it, but he watched them.
"Okay, McGee. You're set. You're smarter than I am when it comes to this stuff; so I'm sure that I don't need to pretend to tell you how to do it."
Tim managed a smile.
"No. I know how."
Abby leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.
"You're okay, Tim. We're all going to be okay."
"You sure of that?" he murmured.
"Positive. Right now, anyway."
She turned his chair toward the camera.
"We could have dug up some iPads or something, but this will give you a better picture...and a more secure connection."
Tim nodded mutely. He watched them slip out of the conference room. Then, he tentatively reached out and pressed the button that would connect him with Ducky. The monitor flickered for a moment and then Ducky was there...in a hospital bed, of course, but he was smiling at the camera.
"Yes, Ziva. It's working. You did it correctly."
Off screen, he heard Ziva speaking. "Good. I will wait outside, Ducky."
"Thank you." He looked at the screen. "Hello, Timothy."
Tim scooted closer. "Ducky."
"What is it, lad?"
"I need to you something."
"What's that?"
"What do you see...when you look at me? What am I?"
It wasn't an idle question. Dr. Lewis' instruction had burrowed into his brain...and now, he needed to know what Ducky saw...who he was in Ducky's eyes. He looked earnestly at Ducky.
"Please...Ducky. I need your help."