Chapter 40

Two months later...

"Ducky! Welcome back!" Tony said with genuine glee.

Ducky smiled. "It's lovely to be back, Anthony." He waited, mentally counting. One...two...three...four...five...si-...

"Have you heard from McGee?"

Another smile. "Yes. I spoke to him just yesterday."

Ziva perked up instantly and even Gibbs raised his head.

"How is he doing?" Ziva asked.

"He had a couple of bad days last week, he told me, but he is doing better. He knew that I was coming back to work to day and he wanted to wish me luck."

"Is he coming back?" Ziva asked.

"Not yet. He has not even intimated that he wants to yet. Right now, he simply wishes to be alone...although his friends have visited him a couple of times, as has his family."

"Are you going up there?" Tony asked.

"Once I'm resettled, yes. I do plan on making the trek. Actually, Matt has insisted that I join them on their next visit."

Ducky noted some slight expressions of envy. They had kept up asking about how Tim was doing ever since his rather abrupt departure. Not every day, but while they were reluctant to suggest talking to him themselves, they did want to know. It was as if all the concern they had not shown (whether felt or not) in the months before was coming out now.

"But he's all right?"

"Yes. He is."

"Welcome back," Gibbs said.

"Thank you, Jethro...although I'm not sure whether it will be more or less frustrating to have to defer to Mr. Palmer's steadier hands for the next few weeks."

"At least you get to hover," Tony said.

Ducky chuckled. "Yes, there is that. I'd best get down there. I can't have him arrive before I do."

He headed to the elevator and sent it down to Autopsy. He was glad to be back...and, although it wasn't perhaps the best for all concerned, he was glad the others were showing interest in Tim's status. How much hope they actually had for Tim returning...how much they actually wanted him to return...that didn't matter because they actually cared about him again. If Tim could believe that, it would probably more than half the battle.

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

Three weeks later...

Tim sucked in his breath sharply and sat up in bed, looking around in a panic for a few seconds before he remembered where he was. The nightmares weren't as frequent, but when they came, they were still just as disturbing.

There was a hint of sunlight. Near dawn, then. Good. Tim got out of bed and headed for the beach. As he walked outside, he shivered slightly. It was getting on toward fall and there was a definite chill in the air early in the morning. Still, he appreciated the complete solitude he had here. It had been a long time that he'd been able to sit...alone...and just be alone. Granted, sometimes, he returned to the bad habit of beating himself down, but his solitude was often punctuated by people checking in on him.

Sometimes, he told himself he was being selfish in coming here, in expecting people to come to him rather than going to them. He would begin to berate himself for being cowardly and weak. ...and in those times, when he didn't stop it, he knew he could sink very low. Those were the times he called someone...usually apologizing profusely for not dealing with all this himself, for intruding on their personal time, for being a nuisance. ...and he was always told it was all right. He tried to believe it and he usually succeeded to some degree. It just took some time...and effort.

When he got out to the beach, he watched the waves. Still shivering a little, he sat down on the sand, digging his toes into it and then he watched the water. The ocean had it so easy. Roll in. Roll out. No further thought necessary. It was all about just moving according to the pull of gravity...sometimes, the wind came up and whipped the waves into white crests. He'd seen two amazing storms during his time here. Another blow was expected in the next few days. He'd seen the clouds on the horizon and he was almost excited for it to come. There was something...invigorating about the storms. Lightning flashing. Rain pouring down in torrents. Wind roaring through the trees, sometimes bending them almost in half. Amazing.

As he sat on the beach, he let his mind wander to the dream he'd had. All his nightmares were still focused on Jewel. It was still her voice that told him he was a criminal. He was a horrible person. He was a plague on the world. It was still her voice, and the images he saw still frightened him. Deaths, chases, bullets flying...and his own hand holding the gun, his fingers pulling the trigger. ...but at the same time, it was better. He woke up afraid, but not screaming...not most of the time anyway. He could usually tell himself that it was only a dream and calm down.

Like today. The bleeding mirror, reflecting Jewel's face. He woke up, terrified of that image...but now, he was almost calm again, almost able to think about it logically.

Almost.

Tim sighed, and his stomach started to growl. That meant breakfast. He was starting to listen to himself again, and he had faithfully promised to eat. In fact, in the nearly three months that he'd been here, he'd put on ten pounds. With a wry smile, he thought about his doctor at the psychiatric hospital. He'd be so pleased. Of course, all the weight Tim had lost in the course of the case that had thrown him back into the path of NCIS would have made him groan. It was a problem, but he was still gaining weight. That was good. Even he could admit to that much.

Another growl. Tim got to his feet and walked back across the beach, climbing the steps back to the house. When he got inside, he opened the cupboards and smiled as he pulled the cereal off the shelf. It wasn't much, but he was eating breakfast regularly. That was important. Habits and routine. They helped him.

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

Two weeks later...

Gibbs went down to Autopsy and found Ducky sitting, giving (unneeded) advice to Jimmy as he prepped a body. He hadn't seen Jimmy look so happy in a long time...and Ducky seemed, if a bit frustrated at not having healed up just yet, quite happy himself.

"Mr. Palmer, if I've told you once, I've told you a hundred times..."

Jimmy muttered under his breath in perfect unison with Ducky's lecturing tone.

"It's not done if it's not done correctly."

Gibbs chuckled and Ducky turned around to see who had intruded.

"Ah, Jethro. What can we do for you? I'm afraid we're not quite ready to give you any preliminaries. Mr. Palmer is..."

"...getting the body ready, Agent Gibbs," Jimmy said quickly. "Dr. Hampton is coming in to do the autopsy, but she called to say she was stuck in traffic. I'm getting everything ready so that we can start right when she gets here."

"You have a minute?"

"Several most likely," Ducky replied. "Your office?"

As Ducky got to his feet, Gibbs was a bit worried by the careful movements. Even now, nearly four months after his injury, Ducky still seemed a bit frail. Jimmy was doing more and more of the work in Autopsy, and Gibbs was starting to wonder what would happen in the near future. Still, Ducky's knowing smile was unfeigned and undimmed by Collier's bullet.

"Yeah," Gibbs said without elaboration.

Ducky nodded and followed Gibbs out of Autopsy.

"He's a good lad. If it weren't for the snobs who require the official degree, Mr. Palmer could probably do the job himself."

"Snobs like yourself?" Gibbs asked.

"I have no question of his ability, Jethro!" Ducky said, slightly affronted. "Mr. Palmer simply needs a piece of paper certifying his readiness...but I myself am not worried about it. It will come. He had to take some time off when his mother became ill and that has put him behind schedule."

"And when he does get his degree?"

Ducky was silent for a moment and then he looked up at Gibbs, seeming strangely small.

"I'm getting old, Jethro," Ducky said quietly. "My old body is not recovering from that injury as it should. At this point, I'm little more than a placeholder here, and we all know it, although we don't speak of it. I've stayed on in this place years beyond what I planned when I first joined NCIS. I will be eighty years old next year. I don't think that working until death is required...not even of a medical examiner." He chuckled.

"You ready to retire?"

"Yes," Ducky said without hesitation. "Oh, I would have chosen a better reason for it than physical weakness, but I am. I just need to stay on long enough for Mr. Palmer to become Dr. Palmer and so that...certain people don't make bad assumptions."

"Like...McGee?"

"Yes. Like Timothy...whom I'm assuming was your real object in coming down here."

Gibbs gestured for Ducky to step on ahead of him and then he stopped the elevator mid-rise. ...as usual.

"Yes. I came down about McGee."

"What is it? I've given you all faithful reports of his progress."

"I know. I want your...opinion."

"Personal or professional?" Ducky asked with a smile.

"Both if necessary."

"Very well. What's the question?"

"What if I showed up at that house?"

"Without asking permission?"

"Yeah. McGee would say no if I asked."

"Are you so sure of that, Jethro?" Ducky asked. "Do you think that Timothy would refuse to speak to you?"

"If he's not ready, or if he thinks he's not ready. Yes."

Ducky sighed, seeming disappointed. "Going for shock is not always the best route."

"I know."

"But you think it is in this case? What will be the topic of your discussion?"

"That's...private."

"Very well. Given your insistence, I'd wager that you already intend on going and you simply want to know what kind of reaction Timothy may have to your presence."

Gibbs was silent, but he didn't disagree. Ducky knew him too well for that.

"Well...if Timothy is having a good day, he'll be shocked, probably momentarily speechless. Then, he'll invite you in and want to know what in the world you're doing. He won't believe that you've come to Maine just to speak with him. He won't understand why you're there and he'll have a hard time accepting that you care enough to show up there."

"And if he's having a bad day."

"He'll be shocked but will talk to cover up for it...and he will try to get you to leave as soon as he can. He'll stammer and push you away. Physically, if necessary. He doesn't have as many bad days as he used to, but they still come."

"I see."

"You're going, aren't you."

"Yeah. On the weekend."

"Jethro, I wish you would reconsider just dropping in. Even we, who have no negative associations for him, call in advance. Timothy has days when he simply wishes to be alone. Can you not give him that option?"

Gibbs was about to say that it would be better his way...but then, he thought about it and realized he was willing to run roughshod over Tim's choices. Had he learned nothing at all? ...and yet, he still felt that they needed to talk and that Tim would say no if given the choice.

"Warn him I'm coming...after I've left. Give him a chance to get ready for it. If he wants me to leave, he can tell me when I get there."

Ducky's eyebrows raised in surprise. Clearly, he wasn't ready for Gibbs being reasonable...which gave Gibbs a private thrill at having taken the nearly-omniscient doctor by surprise.

"That's...an improvement at least," he said grudgingly. "When are you leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning."

"You have the address?"

"Yeah."

"No one is coming with you?"

"Not this time."

Ducky sighed in capitulation...and nodded.

"Very well. Let me know when you've left. ...but if your little visit has any kind of adverse effects, you will answer to me...and weak shoulder or no, I will make you regret, Jethro. Understood?"

Gibbs smiled and nodded, but he took the warning seriously. He turned on the elevator and sent it back to Autopsy. Ducky got off just as Jordan Hampton came in from the stares.

"Was something wrong with the elevator, Don?" she asked. "I pushed the button a few times and it wouldn't move."

"Jethro and I were merely talking, Jordan. I apologize that we forced you to come down the stairs."

"It's no problem," she said with a grin. "I need the exercise. Where's the body?"

"Right through here," he said, gesturing with his left hand instead of his right. "Are we finished, Jethro?"

"Yeah."

"You go on ahead, my dear. I'll catch up."

"All right, but you can't critique my technique if you aren't there to watch."

Ducky laughed. "I'll be right along."

Jordan went into Autopsy and Ducky turned to Jethro.

"Not a word of what we spoke of before to Timothy. Understand? He's not ready to accept it yet. I will tell him when the time comes. Not you."

"He won't hear it from me, Duck."

"Good. Now, I have an Autopsy to oversee. If you'll excuse me, Jethro."

Gibbs grinned and copied Ducky's earlier gesture. Ducky's smile was all he got in reply. After Ducky had left Gibbs alone in the hallway, Gibbs sighed. He'd been afraid that Ducky wouldn't really recover. The doctors had anticipated a full recovery, but it was a full recovery in the sense that there would be no pain and a good range of motion. Not the same state he was in before. Perhaps with extensive therapy, he might regain his full motion, but Gibbs could see Ducky wasn't willing to wait the estimated year to return to his duties, not when Jimmy was so close to finishing...and needing a full-time job.

But that was something he couldn't change. He shook off the regret and turned his thoughts to Tim...and a situation he could at least influence.

He was glad he had time to think about what he was going to say. This wasn't going to be an easy conversation.