Chapter 43

Tim woke up rather suddenly, not sure what had roused him...only that it hadn't been another nightmare. He sat up in bed and looked around...and his eyes fell on Gibbs, sleeping in the chair by the bed. For a moment, he was shocked at Gibbs' presence and almost woke him up just to get him away. But then, a rueful smile crossed his face. He hadn't meant that Gibbs needed to stay beside him for the whole night. It was rare that he was ever that desperate. The rain still fell, but the wind wasn't so fierce. He sat there, watching the storm for a while, glad he was warm and dry and safe indoors. It wasn't too long ago that this neverending storm would have been illustrative of who he'd been and how he'd felt about everything. It was hard to explain that things were different but still not great. Maybe he'd never be able to do that. Where were the words required for it?

Still, it was nice to awaken without feeling terror, anger or self-loathing.

Carefully, he slid out of bed and out of the room, leaving Gibbs slumbering peacefully. Once out of the room, he headed to the kitchen. He opened the fridge and cupboards, pulling out enough stuff to cook breakfast for the both of them. He didn't know whether or not Gibbs actually did something so normal as to eat something for breakfast, but Tim himself needed it.

...but coffee would be a part of it...of course.

Before he started cooking, Tim spared a moment and looked out. The rain was lessening. He couldn't see the beach very well, but he was sure it was probably in quite a bit of disarray after all the rain. He could go out and see later...when the rain stopped...but still, he stared for a while. The weather intrigued him now, more than it ever had when he was younger. Sure, he'd had some interest in extreme events like hurricanes and tornadoes, but now, it was more that he was amazed at how much power nature had...and how little power mankind had to fight against it.

Then, Tim shook himself and turned his attention back on his breakfast. He had no idea what Gibbs would want, but he was going to make omelets. If Gibbs wanted something else, he could make it himself. Ever since Judith's stern dictum, Tim had actually made an effort to eat things that would help him gain weight...without just gorging on junk. Tim smiled as he began to assemble the omelets. He'd become fairly proficient at this because it was easy to add more or less to them to make them more or less exciting. That meant that, every time he had them, they could be slightly different. No ruts...at least not in his breakfast choices.

As the omelets were cooking on the griddle, Tim heard movement from upstairs and smiled to himself. No doubt Gibbs would be wondering how in the world Tim had managed to sneak out without waking him up. Actually, it gave Tim a little thrill to know he'd managed it. Silly perhaps, but it did.

Thumping down the stairs and Gibbs came into the kitchen just slightly faster than could be counted as nonchalant...but to his credit, he said nothing about whatever concern he might have felt.

"Good morning," Tim said.

"When did you get up?" Gibbs asked.

"About half an hour ago."

"I didn't hear you."

Tim smiled. "Obviously. I'm almost finished making breakfast."

"I could smell the coffee."

"It's not as good as what you brought. I have money right now, but I don't want to waste it on luxuries. I don't know how long it'll have to last me." Awkward pause. "The...storm's getting lighter. Not so much wind."

Gibbs looked out the window and nodded. ...and then, said nothing as Tim poured him some coffee. Tim didn't know what to say now. He didn't know if Gibbs had something else to say either. All he knew was that this was really really awkward.

"Uh...how long are you staying, Gibbs?" he asked.

"Flight goes back tonight."

"You came here for a day?"

"Yep."

"Why?"

"Needed to. We already talked about that."

"Yes...but...Gibbs, I..."

"Your eggs are burning."

Tim spun around and quickly removed the omelets off the griddle. He put them on plates and gave one to Gibbs, wondering if he'd accept it.

He did without comment. They ate in silence. Tim had no idea what Gibbs was thinking, but he himself was just wondering if Gibbs was really telling the truth.

"You can't be serious, Gibbs," Tim said when he'd mostly finished.

"About what?"

"About coming up here."

"I'm here, aren't I?"

"Yes, but it doesn't make sense."

"Yes, it does," Gibbs said. He put down his fork. "You may not want it to make sense, but it does."

"Then, tell me."

"Again?"

"Yes." Tim couldn't quite admit it out loud, but he needed to hear this from Gibbs again. Would he really say the same thing he had before? Was it possible?

Gibbs looked at him for a few seconds and then nodded.

"All right. I came because I wanted to make sure you were all right, and I needed to talk to you...about coming back to NCIS."

Tim felt his stomach clench at the mention of returning to NCIS. The idea tempted him and terrified him. He deliberately picked up his plate and Gibbs' plate as well and carried them to the sink, since that would necessitate his turning away.

"Do you want it, Tim?"

Tim's hand shook and he almost dropped the plate. Quickly, he set it down and looked out at the rain.

"You need to answer."

Tim stiffened slightly. "I don't have to answer that question," he said.

"Yes, you do...not because it's me asking it, but because you need to figure out what you're going to do with yourself."

"I have time."

"Yeah...but how much? How long can you live in limbo like this? How long before it starts to drag you down again?"

"I need the time."

"Fine. How much? You've already been here for a couple of months...and I came here and found you drowning yourself."

"I wasn't! I just...got disoriented is all."

"Because you walked into the ocean in the middle of a storm."

"I know what I did," Tim said, feeling irritated. He turned around. "I know it wasn't the smartest thing I could have done. I just...needed to."

"Why?"

"I told you...because I can't control it."

"And you'd rather risk the weather that could kill you with no chance of it caring about your life or death than you would talking to people who actually do care?"

"Yes!"

"Why?"

"Because..." Tim hesitated. Wouldn't this just break the tenuous truce he and Gibbs seemed to have reached? Wouldn't the truth make things worse? He sighed. "...because...being around you and...and Tony...and...Ziva...that scares me a lot more than maybe drowning in the ocean does."

Gibbs' eyes widened slightly. He may have even seemed a little hurt if that were actually possible. But Tim pressed on now that he'd begun.

"...and I know that's wrong. I do! ...but I can't help it! I keep thinking that if I can make myself believe that you really do care, that you're not out to get me...if I can get that into my head so that I believe it...maybe I have a chance!"

Gibbs was silent for a few seconds, and Tim faced the sink again. In the lull, he began washing the dishes. Gibbs said nothing. Tim resolutely kept washing. Then, he turned off the water and dried them...still not talking, still not turning around. Unfortunately, it didn't take very long. It was only a couple of minutes and Tim had no convenient excuse to avoid facing Gibbs.

"What do you want, Tim?"

Tim clenched the dishtowel tightly in his hands and took a deep breath.

"What, Tim?"

"Ducky told me what T-Tony said...about finding the stuff I typed. He must have told you."

"Not details."

"I wish things could go back to how they were...but they can't."

"That's not what I'm suggesting."

"Then, what?"

"Just going back to NCIS in whatever capacity you think you could handle."

Tim shook his head.

"McGee, turn around."

Tim shook his head again.

"Turn around," Gibbs said again.

Tim took a deep breath and slowly turned around.

"Do you want to go back to NCIS?"

"I can't answer that."

"Why? I'm not going to hold you to it. I'm not going to tell Vance. I'm not going to fill out any forms for you."

"Because...I can't."

"Yes, you can. Yes or no. Do you want to go back?"

"Not if I can't be what I was. I can't go back and be less than I was before."

"Less meaning–?"

"Not a field agent. Don't you understand, Gibbs? That's the job I wanted...not Cybercrimes. Not Legal. Not Intel...not MTAC. None of that. I just can't do it. ...and I'm not ready to be a field agent again. I'm not...and if you try to tell me that I am, you're lying, either to me or to yourself."

"And staying here will help you get more ready?"

"Yes. It's better up here for me. I'm remembering who I am...a little bit. I woke up this morning...and it wasn't because of a nightmare. Gibbs, you have no idea how rare that's been for me. I can be...pretty low at night, but night is always going to be the worst time for me."

"You need to let of Jewel."

"I know...but I can't yet."

"Why not?"

Tim laughed. "Because, unlike you apparently are, I can't just let go. It's taking time, Gibbs. I just have to take the time...and I'm doing that now. Can't you just accept that you can't force me to heal? Leroy Jethro Gibbs can't always rearrange the world to fit what he wants."

To Tim's surprise, Gibbs actually seemed a little ashamed. ...but his surprise was nothing compared to the shock he felt at Gibbs' next words.

"I'm sorry, Tim."

"You are?"

Gibbs smiled. "Yeah. I told myself I wasn't going to push you to do anything, but I'm doing just that."

Tim smiled in reply.

"No matter what, if you want back at NCIS, you can. All you have to do is say the word."

"I'm not ready for it."

"Yet?"

"Yet."

"Okay. How would you feel if Tony and Ziva came up here?"

"They need to ask first...like you should have."

Gibbs nodded in acceptance of the comment. "All right. I think they can manage that."

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

Gibbs only stayed for a couple of hours and then he went on his way. By the time he left, the rain had mostly stopped. It was still gray and overcast, but the major storm had passed. Tim watched him leave and then returned to the house. However, he only stayed for a couple of minutes...before going out to the beach again. There were rivulets, rocks, and branches strewn across the sand. The waves were still wild. No one in their right mind would be out on the ocean today.

Instead of going out into the water as he had the day before, Tim sat down on the wet sand and watched the sea come in and out.

Back and forth. Back and forth. Uncontrolled, but with a rhythm dictated by the world around it. Tides from the moon and sun. Winds from passing storm systems. Even so, there was still a rhythm. The sea was uncontrolled, but it possessed a pattern. It couldn't always be predicted completely, but the tides were pretty well understood by the people who chose to study them or live with them.

"Do I really want to go back?" he asked aloud.

The waves didn't answer him, of course, and after a while, Tim grew cold and went back into the house.