Chapter 37
Ducky shifted position. He wasn't sure how he needed to move in order to give his shoulder the most relief. So far, he had tried a number of positions, but only lying down seemed to work...which was why his doctors had resisted his request at first. However, he had persisted and they had given in.
Now, he sat beside Tim's bed. He'd been assured that Tim's injuries, while serious, were not severe and he would recover. ...but he wouldn't really believe it until he saw Tim awake for himself. So many things had gone so very wrong in the last few weeks. Tim needed something to go right, and Ducky was afraid that this would be the last straw. He was terrified that Tim would take this as yet another sign.
With a soft sigh, Ducky watched as Tim slept.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Tim woke up...and wished he hadn't. He ached all over from head to toe...with a special center of pain in his back. He tried to change position, but that turned out to be a bad idea. He hissed at the increased pain.
"Timothy? You're awake?"
Tim turned his head.
"Ducky?" he asked in a voice barely above a whisper. Speaking more loudly took too much effort.
Sure enough. Ducky was sitting in a wheelchair beside his bed.
"Should...you be up yet?"
Ducky smiled. "I am here with strict orders not to stay too long. The doctors estimated that you'd be waking soon and allowed me to come to see you."
"I wish I wasn't...awake, that is," Tim said and winced. "How bad?"
"It could have been much worse from what I was told. The bullet was designed to pierce your vest and it was only luck that the trajectory was shifted away from vital organs."
"Oh. So...he must have known," Tim said.
"Yes...or at least, he suspected."
"So much...for my great idea."
"Timothy...what were you thinking?"
Tim smiled wearily. "When?"
"When you stepped in front of that bullet," Ducky said.
Tim closed his eyes. "I was thinking...he's going to kill Ziva. I have to stop him."
"That's all? Nothing else?"
"I don't remember thinking anything else."
To Tim's surprise, Ducky reached out with his uninjured arm and squeezed Tim's shoulder tightly...so tightly that it almost hurt.
"That's good to hear, Timothy."
"Why?"
"Let's just say that there are other things that would have been frightening if you had thought them."
"Like...I hope this time he kills me?"
"Yes," Ducky said quietly. "Like that. Were you thinking that?"
Tim shifted position painfully so that he could look at Ducky more easily. Then, he was quiet for a few minutes.
"Timothy?"
"No. No...I wasn't thinking that. I just...couldn't let him kill Ziva...not when it was supposed to be me in danger."
It was Ducky's turn to remain silent for a while.
"Have you typed anything?" he asked finally.
"Yes."
"What?"
"A lot of stuff," Tim said, thinking of all the pages lying on the table. "Mostly about me."
Ducky smiled. "That's permitted."
"Kind of selfish, isn't it?"
"Perhaps, but occasionally, some self-reflection is a good idea."
"Is that what I'm doing?"
Ducky laughed. "I can't tell. Are you?"
"Ducky...things feel...different."
"In what way?"
"I was worried...about them."
"There's nothing wrong with that."
"I know...but..." Tim couldn't explain...but then, he met Ducky's gaze and saw only concern there. No fear, no real anxiety...and he realized that it had been a very long time since he'd seen Ducky like that. How long? Since before he'd quit NCIS, probably. A long time.
"What is it, Timothy?"
"I...don't think I'm thinking straight," Tim said and managed to smile.
"Do you think you're up to having a visitor?"
"Who?"
"Ziva. She has been waiting to make certain you were all right. She is worried about you."
"Um...okay." Tim was uncertain about seeing her...and it was clear that Ducky noticed.
"It's not required. I think she wishes to thank you for your actions."
Tim hitched his shoulder and then winced. Anything requiring movement right now hurt. He couldn't believe that this wasn't life threatening. It sure felt like it was.
"Really, Timothy. You don't have to see her if you don't wish to."
"I'll...I'll see her, Ducky. It's okay."
"Very well. I'm guessing my doctors will want me to get back to my room in any case." He looked back and Tim followed his gaze. "As you see, there they are."
Sure enough. Tim could see a doctor or a nurse or someone outside the door.
"You can go, Ducky," he said. "I'm...I guess I'm going to be okay?"
"As far as I know, lad. Your injuries will heal...in time."
As usual, there seemed to be more to the simple statement than just a declaration of Tim's eventual physical recovery. The nurse came in and fussed over Ducky who rolled his eyes at Tim but said nothing in complaint as she wheeled him away. Tim leaned back in the bed as another doctor came in...his own, he assumed.
"Hello, Mr. McGee. How are you feeling?"
"Like I got shot," Tim said. "This isn't going to kill me?"
The doctor smiled. "No. We had a few anxious moments in surgery while we removed the bullet and the rest of the debris in your wound, but while there is some risk for infection, the bullet did little damage."
"How is that possible?"
"Because you are extraordinarily lucky. The bullet entered your body at an angle that took it away from your internal organs. There was damage, of course, but no major organs or blood vessels were hit. You'll be in some pain for the next few days, but that will fade and as soon as we're sure that your wound won't turn septic, we'll release you. I'd guess that you could use some rest right now."
Tim nodded, but he remembered that he had a visitor.
"Wait...Ziva is...waiting to see me, I think."
"Yes. There is a young lady out in the waiting room. You want to talk to her?"
Want? That was a bit strong, Tim knew, but he felt that he needed to. She was there for a reason.
"Yes. Please."
"Not for long. You need to take the time to recover. Your body's taken quite a beating over the past few weeks."
"Yeah..." Tim agreed with a sigh...and a wince.
The doctor nodded in sympathy and then withdrew. A few seconds later, Ziva came in, almost tentatively.
"Hello, McGee," she said softly.
"Hi," Tim said.
"Thank you," she said.
Tim managed a smile. "It wasn't a big deal. You...You were out there to protect me."
"I am sorry."
"What for?" Tim asked. "You didn't shoot me...and I'm going to be okay."
"No. Not because of that."
"Then, what? ...because we don't need to get into everything again. I don't think...I could manage it right now."
Ziva smiled and shook her head. "No. It is not all that. It is..." She paused, as if thinking of what to say. "I am...sorry that Collier knew you so much better than the rest of us."
Surprised, Tim furrowed his brow. "What? What do you... What are you talking about?"
"Collier knew who you were. He...He understood you as I did not." Ziva sat down and leaned forward earnestly. "I think he understood you more than you understand yourself."
"But...he was trying to kill me."
"Yes...and he knew exactly how to get to you. He knew that you would want to save someone if you could...even if it was me. I thought you had changed, Tim, but you have not. Not inside. Some things are different, but...who you are is still the same...and I am sorry that I never knew that, that I never saw it."
Tim stared at Ziva for a long moment. Occasionally, he tried to say something, but no words came out.
"I...I am different," he said finally. "I'm not like I was."
"No...but you are not so different as I thought...as we all thought. It was wrong of us." She hesitated. "...and it is wrong of you to think yourself as being so much worse than you were. You saved my life, McGee. If you were so much changed, you would have let him kill me."
"I couldn't do that."
Ziva smiled. "Exactly." Then, she stood up. "I will not take more time. You look tired and I am sure that my presence is not...relaxing for you. ...but I thank you for saving me."
Tim couldn't think of a single thing to say until the door had closed behind Ziva as she left.
"You're welcome," he whispered, almost in shock.
He was tired, but after Ziva left, he couldn't sleep. He lay there, staring at the ceiling, thinking about what she had said.
The most amazing thing was that he couldn't hear Jewel's voice in his head while he considered the strange point of view Ziva had presented to him.
It wasn't until the painkillers kicked in again that he fell asleep, still pondering the latest developments in his life.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Gibbs walked up the stairs to the conference room. He wasn't sure what would happen next, but Tim wouldn't likely be coming back here when he was no longer a target.
The door was open slightly and when he pushed it all the way open, Tony spun around in surprise, a pile of paper in his hands.
"Boss...I know I...I shouldn't have...but I was coming in here to make sure his stuff was all...organized or whatever. I saw my name on a page." Tony shook his head. "I thought...it would be more of McGee being angry or just venting or something. It's not. It's... Boss, it's almost an apology, and it's not like I was doing things right. Why would he be apologizing to me? Why now?"
Gibbs looked at Tony and then at the typewriter. Funny how something like that could be so important to Tim. It was his way of working through things, facing things he couldn't face.
Like my boats, he thought to himself.
Why had Tim cut himself off from something that could have been a lifeline for him during his self-imposed exile? Why use it to apologize?
"Because he thought he could do it now," Gibbs said quietly. "Make sure nothing gets misplaced."
"What are we going to do with it?"
"Nothing beyond keep it safe until McGee can decide for himself."
Tony nodded. He looked back at the typewriter and then at the pages in his hands.
"Do you think he means it?"
Gibbs smiled. "Well...he did once. Maybe he can again. Don't know."
Then, he walked out of the conference room. There were people who needed to know where Tim was, what had happened. People who cared about him and hadn't ever given up on him. No matter what they thought of Tim's former coworkers, they needed to know these latest developments, to give Tim the support he'd likely need.
If he couldn't do anything else for Tim, Gibbs figured he could do that much.