Chapter 42

Gibbs went to sleep quickly and hoped that Tim had done the same. He was disturbed by what Tim had said, but more by how he'd looked. He'd been afraid...terrified of even considering doing something like go back to NCIS...not because he didn't want it but because he might not get it or he might be betrayed again. Gibbs wasn't sure exactly what was holding Tim back, but he could see very clearly that it wasn't a lack of desire.

He rolled over and spared one moment to admire the quality of this "spare room". Then, he fell asleep.

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

"No...No... It can't be... please...no!"

The moaning and shouting woke Gibbs up and he was confused for a moment about where he was.

"No!"

It was Tim. He was in Maine. Right. Gibbs got up quickly and dashed up the stairs. He followed the sound of Tim's shouting to the room where he slept. It was still raining, and he opened the door to find quite an amazing master bedroom. A full wall of nothing but windows looking out on the beach. Windows currently rattling a little bit from the wind, and difficult to see through because of the rain. Still...an amazing room.

The king-sized bed in the middle of the room was full of thrashing limbs. Tim had got tangled up in the blankets and was panicking in his sleep.

"McGee, wake up," Gibbs said, standing over the struggling figure.

"I don't...want..."

Gibbs shook Tim gently. "Wake up, Tim."

He pulled the blankets off and Tim sat up, his eyes opening wide in terror. He breathed quickly and finally woke up. For a few seconds he looked at Gibbs and then he dropped his head and started crying.

"Nightmare?" Gibbs asked.

"Y-Yeah."

"What was in it?"

"Same old...same old." Tim took a deep breath and wiped at his eyes. He wouldn't lift his head.

"What?"

"Bad. I look in a mirror...and Jewel is...my reflection. She lifts a gun and starts shooting. The mirror cracks and starts bleeding. ...and then, I'm shooting...people...and I can't stop."

"You're not a killer, McGee."

"And yet people die around me. I killed Jewel myself. All those people who died from the ecstasy. Lance Corporal Smythe. Ducky could have been killed."

"You're not a killer, Tim," Gibbs said again.

To his surprise, Tim actually smiled a little.

"Sometimes...I remember that, but not at night. Not at times like this...not when I remember Jewel."

Gibbs remained silent for a moment, thinking that Tim would say more.

He wasn't disappointed.

"That's why what you're telling me is ridiculous. I'm...maybe a little better than I was, but I'm not better."

"You think you can't get any better?"

"I don't know, but I'm sure not ready...and even if, by some miracle, you're right about everyone, that doesn't mean I'm qualified." He looked up. "I'm not qualified, Gibbs. I'm a colossal failure. You know that as well as I do."

"No, I don't."

Tim just shook his head. "It's stupid. The whole idea. It's stupid."

"You were a good agent, Tim. You had years of good work."

"And then I lost all that."

"It doesn't have to be permanent."

"Says you."

"Yes. Says me."

Gibbs watched as Tim looked away, out at the storm. Suddenly, he was struck by a thought and he let it out before he even had time to think much about it.

"How do you feel compared to that night in your friend's house?"

Tim's eyes moved back to him and his face scrunched up in confusion.

"What night?"

"The night I invaded your space and you threatened to kill me," Gibbs said seriously.

Tim winced at the description.

"Remember?" Gibbs asked.

"Yeah. I remember. I hated you. ...almost as much as I hated myself."

The past tense made Gibbs happier than he thought it would.

"I didn't want you to leave," Tim whispered.

"What?"

"That night. There was a part of me that didn't want you to leave."

"Could have fooled me."

Tim smiled. "I fooled you all into thinking that I was doing my job well. Doesn't take much to use anger I really felt to hide how desperate I was. ...but there was a part of me...the part that has always known what reality is. That part wanted you to stay, wanted you to break me out of that. ...but you left."

Gibbs opened his mouth to speak, but Tim overrode him.

"I don't blame you. Not now. You said it was past the time when you could help me. Maybe you were right, but...in a completely irrational way, I felt even more betrayed by the fact that you left me there. I knew I was coming apart at the seams."

"And now?"

"What do you mean?"

"How do you feel now?"

"Tired. Sad. Occasionally-hopeless...occasionally-hopeful. Afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"Myself...the person I am. I don't like who I've become, Gibbs. That's why I came up here. I needed some time alone to confront my demons...to figure myself out."

"And what have you figured out?"

"That I'm still a stupid wuss. I could have killed myself on the beach if you hadn't come. My nightmares still wake me up in the night. The only difference is that, usually, I can get back to sleep after I have them. ...and I'm not letting my fear keep me from trying to sleep. Dr. Lewis prescribed some sleeping pills, but I try not to use them. I keep hoping that someday Jewel won't be in my head anymore."

"As long as you keep blaming yourself for her death, McGee, she's not going away."

"Who else can I blame, Gibbs?" Tim asked, almost plaintively...but with an edge of irritation. "I'm the one who shot her!"

"Because she refused to back down," Gibbs said firmly. "Because she was determined to kill no matter what happened later. Julia Westin is to blame for her death, not you. You were doing your job. ...and I remember what you told me before, but your feelings, while you can regret that you'd been brought to that state, don't change the fact that Julia Westin basically killed herself."

"She was a straight-A student in school."

"And she chose to throw it away."

"She used to dance."

"But decided that she didn't want that world anymore."

"Like me."

Then, it clicked. Gibbs had been seeing bits of it already, but he understood. The more Tim had learned about Julia Westin, the more he had identified with her. She was someone who, like Thomas Allen McKay...and like Tim himself had done, had decided that she was rejecting the world she'd grown up in. The world that required following laws...the world that valued life for the sake of life. And she was essentially what Tim was seeing as a mirror of himself. Someone who'd had it all and intentionally thrown it all away. Her death at his hand was probably what he subconsciously (or even consciously) felt he deserved. Death for his crimes.

"You are not Jewel, Tim," Gibbs said seriously. "You never were...and you're not now."

"That's easy to say now, Gibbs," Tim said. "You have a lot of reasons for wanting that to be true."

"What reasons would those be?"

"It makes it easier for you. It's a way to assuage any guilt you might feel. It means that you can push the reset button. ...but it's not possible for me. No matter what you might think, I'm not in any state to be a federal agent. Not now. Maybe not ever...but definitely not now. I'm barely holding it together...which is better than I was before, but it's nowhere near what I'd need to be to be an agent."

Gibbs wanted to push. He wanted Tim to listen to him, to believe him as he'd done so automatically before. ...but he started to see that there was no convincing him tonight. Maybe he couldn't convince him at all. ...and he had no right to tell Tim what was right for him. He'd lost that right. And, in reality, he'd never had that right. So he took a breath and looked at Tim.

"You going back to sleep tonight?"

"I'm going to try. Bad things happen when I refuse to sleep."

"Would it be easier if I was here or in my room...or in town?"

Tim's eyes moved away from him, traveled around the room and then resettled on him. It was clear that Tim was surprised by the question.

"I'm serious," Gibbs said.

"If...you're serious..."

"I am."

Tim almost smiled. "...then...it's easier for me to sleep when I'm not alone."

"Even if I'm the one keeping you company."

Tim did smile. "When my eyes are closed, I can't see who is there. I just know that someone is...and that makes a difference."

"Why?"

"For the same reason little kids can go to sleep when their parents are sitting next to them. The same reason Sarah used to like to sleep with me sitting by her. The presence of another person keeps the monsters away...no matter who it is."

"Okay. I'll stay."

Without another word, Gibbs closed the door to the hallway, cutting off the light. Now, the only source of any illumination was from outside...the occasional flashes of lightning, accompanied by rumbling thunder.

Tim lay down and pulled something out from under the blankets.

"What's that?"

He couldn't see Tim's face any longer, but he could hear the embarrassed smile.

"A teddy bear."

"What?"

"Dr. Lewis said that if it helps, I should use it and not let anyone tease me about it. It helps."

Gibbs chuckled softly.

"All right. Good night, McGee."

"Good night."

Tim rolled over so that he was no longer facing Gibbs. There was a period of silence, perhaps ten minutes.

"Gibbs?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you honestly think that I have a snowball's chance of working for NCIS again?"

Gibbs thought about telling him what Jamie had said, but he decided against it. In his current state, Tim might take that as an obligation he had to fulfill...which wouldn't be any better than what he'd believed before.

"Yes. If you want to."

There was no response. If Tim had planned on saying anything else, he lost the chance. After about half an hour, his deep breathing signaled his return to sleep. As he sat there in the darkness, Gibbs thought about everything he'd seen and heard here. He had to agree with Tim, even though it galled him to admit it. As he was now, Tim wasn't ready to go back to NCIS, not in a high-stress occupation. Not even Vance could get around the psych evaluations that Tim would surely fail. However, there was a lot that also told him that Tim had the potential to return should that be his desire. He wasn't cringing at the prospect of using Gibbs' name. He wasn't backing down. ...and that anger he'd become so used to seeing in Tim's eyes was gone. ...or rather, it had lessened dramatically. The hatred he directed at himself wasn't as strong even if it was still there to some extent. He was incredibly self-aware...as far as his weaknesses went. Tim himself had said that nights were the worst times for him. He hadn't been lying.

He considered going back to bed. Tim was asleep and would hopefully stay that way. ...but as he began to rise, he remembered what Tim had said. His feelings of betrayal when Gibbs had left him at Matt's house, left him to sink deeper into the mire of his toxic hatred.

Gibbs settled back in the chair. It was really quite comfortable. Not as comfortable as a bed, but quite good enough to sleep in. He looked at Tim's back as a flash of lightning briefly lit up the room. He smiled and made himself comfortable.

Would this help? Maybe. Maybe not, but Gibbs himself was much better at doing things than he was at talking about them.

Sleeping in the chair to help Tim get a good night of sleep seemed a small price to pay.

In spite of the continuing storm, Gibbs soon fell asleep.