Chapter 5

The next few days were actually better as far as Tony was concerned. With Tim more alert and wanting to move around, he could start helping him with exercises that would get his muscles back in condition and he thought that it might even help Tim heal more quickly.

So every day, Tony helped Tim with moving his legs and his arms. They weren't extremely difficult exercises, but they were enough that Tim would fall asleep after every set. But every time he woke up, he remembered the time he'd been awake before, and that made Tony even more relieved. His memory was working and if he was still a little slow, he was starting to rev up to full. How long it would take, Tony didn't know, but he was just glad that it was happening at all. Tim was still very restless at night. With more awareness came more nightmares, and Tony didn't sleep very well anyway. Every time Tim woke up, so did Tony and while Tim would fall asleep again, Tony usually took an hour or more. That meant that Tony was tired all the time, in addition to the stress.

But he kept telling himself that this was better.

With Tim acting more alert, Tony actually felt like he could go and get some more supplies. He explained his pending absence to Tim and then left the apartment for the first time in a long time. He didn't linger anywhere, however. That was too risky. He simply bought his groceries and a few other things (like some clothes for Tim when he was ready for that) and then went back. He had to admit that part of him didn't want to return to the confusion that existed in there. There was a part of him that just wanted to leave and go back home and pretend that none of this had ever happened, but he couldn't do that, and he knew it. He had to see it through.

It took two trips to get all the bags into the apartment, but he was okay with that. It was a relief to have a full supply again. They'd been getting low on quite a few things.

Tim was awake, lying on his back, staring at the ceiling, but he didn't look very happy. Whatever he was thinking about wasn't positive, and Tony didn't like that. Instead of putting away the groceries, he walked over to the bed.

"Hey, Tim. I'm back, and it's about lunchtime. You hungry?"

Tim looked at him.

"I'm stupid," he said.

"What? No, you're not."

"I am."

Tony took a deep breath and quashed his own worry that Tim was indeed stupid. He sat down.

"No. You got hurt, Tim. That's all it is. You're getting better now, and it's going to keep on that way. Give it a few more days and you'll be thinking in circles around me again."

I really hope I'm not lying.

"I don't even know where I am," Tim said slowly.

"You're in New York."

"But I don't know why!"

"It's all right," Tony said.

"No. It's not. You don't think it's all right, either. Don't lie to me!" Tim said. "You get up in the middle of the night. You pace back and forth. You don't sleep. You're awake every time I'm awake. You don't think it's all right!"

That was the most Tim had spoken at one time in the last six weeks. It was slow and faltering but it was clear and coherent, and Tony was thrilled, but he was also seeing that, with Tim's increased awareness, there was also an increase in needing to understand and Tim didn't like being in the dark any more than Tony did. In fact, in his own way, Tim might hate it more because he would see it as an indication of failure. And Tim hated to fail. He hated anything that would indicate some kind of weakness or lack in him.

Stifling a sigh, Tony tried to decide how to deal with this. All he wanted was for one day to be simple and easy. Was that too much to ask? All he wanted was a little bit of time when he wasn't stressed out about taking care of Tim or about what he should or should not be doing. The relief from getting groceries was gone, replaced by worry about Tim's state of mind.

He reached out and helped Tim sit up so that he could talk to him, face to face. Tim needed that kind of interaction instead of Tony hovering over him all the time.

"No, it might not be all right, Tim," he said, finally. "But I don't know that, and right now, neither do you. Until you're better, we can't know that. But do you know what will make things better?"

"What?"

"If you and I try to stop thinking about what we don't know and focus on what we do."

"And what's that?" Tim asked. "Seems like we don't know anything."

"We know that you got hurt really badly, that you were almost killed, and we know that you need time to get better. We've got you working on your exercises, and maybe you could start watching some TV or something. Basic cable is included in the rent on this place. I know you're not a big TV guy, but I don't want us on the Internet where we could get tracked down by someone. You didn't have a phone with you before, and I've disabled mine. So what do you say? You think you can handle just focusing on that for now?"

Tim looked around the room, and Tony was so happy that the swelling had gone down enough that his eyes could open all the way. ...or almost all the way. His right eye still had a little bit of a droop to it, mostly because of the stitches above it. They were starting to dissolve, but because they were partially external, they weren't dissolving at the same rate as the others had been. After staring at the apartment for a while, Tim returned his focus to Tony.

"Maybe. I don't know."

"Hey, I'll take that. Now, are you ready for lunch?"

Tim nodded. Tony got Tim his pain pill and then, it was time for lunch.

"Help me to the table?" Tim asked.

"You sure you're ready to sit up for that long?"

"No," Tim said, but he smiled a little.

"Okay. Let's do it."

Tony leaned down and helped Tim get to his feet. ...not that Tim was actually walking. He wasn't. He seemed very dizzy and Tony was carrying a lot of Tim's weight. Plus, it seemed to hurt him, but he was trying to walk and he was upright for the first time. It was maybe ten feet to the tiny table that barely had space for two people, but Tim was sweating, breathing heavily and holding tightly to Tony by the time they got there. Tony carefully lowered him to the chair and Tim looked ready to fall over.

"Are you going to be okay there?" Tony asked.

Tim just nodded without speaking. He didn't slump, but he leaned forward on his hands and closed his eyes. Tony could see that he was shaking, but he decided to let Tim get his energy back and just keep an eye on him while he put away the groceries and decided what Tim might be able to tolerate for lunch. Nothing too solid yet, but maybe not a smoothie this time.

As he put the groceries away, he spied some instant oatmeal. Maybe that...and a banana or something? Sure. Why not. It wasn't exactly lunch, but it was good for Tim to have all that kind of stuff. But he needed more protein in his diet, too. Milk. Sure. That would work.

Tony didn't ask Tim if that's what he wanted. He just kept an eye on Tim, waiting for the color to come back to his face and for the trembling to stop. It took a few minutes to get everything put away, but then, he started the oatmeal going in the microwave and got out a banana and some milk.

He brought the rather bland meal over and set it on the table. Tim didn't look quite so pale, but he was still shaking.

"Tim, are you sure you want to stay here? You don't have to be sitting up yet."

Tim's eyes were still closed, but he pushed himself upright and let out a long, slow breath. Then, he opened his eyes and nodded.

"I can do it," he whispered.

"Okay. You need me to help you?"

"Not yet."

With a shaking hand, Tim picked up the spoon and began to feed himself for the first time in more than a month. It was slow and clearly hard for him. Tony wanted to help, but he forced himself to wait until Tim asked for it. It was important that Tim get back to being independent and if this was what it took, then, Tony was all for it. He was glad that he had given Tim a straw in the glass of milk, though. No sense in forcing Tim to pick up a glass in addition to everything else.

Finally, Tim finished eating, and Tony was glad to see that, in pain or not, Tim had eaten everything.

"You need any more than that?" Tony asked.

Tim shook his head.

"Back to bed?"

Tim nodded.

"All right. Here we go."

Tony helped Tim stand up again. This time, he was pretty much carrying Tim back to the bed. He had no energy left. As soon as he was down on the bed, he went limp, breathing loudly, and he couldn't hold back a few tears.

"Good job, Tim. You made it."

Tim nodded but didn't speak.

"You can just take a nap and recover."

Tim didn't reply, and after a few minutes, his breathing evened out and Tony thought that he must be asleep. He got up and walked back to the kitchen to get his own lunch. He made himself a sandwich. He couldn't eat the same mush Tim did every time. He cleared up Tim's lunch and sat down at the table. As he ate, he considered what would come next. Tim's determination to get up was encouraging. He would have to make sure Tim didn't do too much, but he was starting to get better. He just wanted Tim's mind to keep up with his body's recovery...or even outstrip it. He'd love to be able to have a real conversation with someone. He never thought that the thing he'd miss most was being able to talk to another person. It had been far too long since that was an option.

All in all, things could be better, but things could be much worse. He knew that because they had been.

Tony finished eating and then did his usual thorough cleaning of the kitchen. He was tired, though. After all this, he just wanted to take some time to get a nap. Tim was sleeping. The pain pill would let him sleep without much pain, and since he was so tired by what he'd done, he would likely sleep for a while.

So Tony walked over to the couch and turned on the TV with the volume very low. Then, he tried to relax enough to sleep.

Amazingly, it was really easy.

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

Tim woke up, unsure of what had disturbed his sleep. He opened his eyes and was relieved to note that the pain was extremely muted at the moment.

Then, the sound came again.

Trying to be quiet about it, Tim levered himself upright. Then, he smiled.

The TV was on, and Tony was lying on the couch, snoring. It was the first time Tim had seen him asleep, and he was glad. Now that he was really thinking again, he hated knowing that he was so dependent on Tony just to survive. He also really hated that he couldn't remember why he was in this situation in the first place.

It really bothered him that Tony didn't know, either, because that meant that Tony wasn't part of whatever had led to his injury. So why did Tony even know? Something in his mind told him that Tony shouldn't know what he'd been doing, but since Tim himself couldn't remember, that wasn't an issue at the moment. But why had he been beaten? His nightmares always led to a forest. He had been running from people in a forest. But why? Why was he in New York? And if Tony wasn't a part of it, why had he apparently asked for him?

All that stuff was in his head, why couldn't he remember? Had the beating been that bad? Was that why he felt so stupid and slow with everything, too? Tim didn't know, but he started to look at himself, something he hadn't yet done. There were healing bruises and lacerations all over his arms. He felt his face and there were sutures. Then, he realized that there were two gaps in his teeth. He looked at his legs. The bruising continued. It was like someone had tried to injure every inch of him, leaving nothing whole. Maybe it had been that bad.

And now, he was in an apartment in New York, with Tony, neither of them daring to contact anyone. Tony had said that he wasn't because Tim had said not to. And when he thought about it, Tim felt that panic that insisted calling someone would get him killed.

What about Gibbs?

Tim tried to think about Gibbs and how he might fit into all this.

Contacting Gibbs wasn't possible. Was Gibbs dirty? Instantly, Tim rejected that idea. No, that couldn't be it. But for some reason, he was sure that any attempt to contact Gibbs would fail and that he shouldn't even try.

But what if I'm wrong?

That was the problem. He had absolutely no idea what was right in this situation because his mind was a disturbing blank when it came to explaining what had happened to him.

Tony suddenly let out a loud snore and tossed and turned on the couch. Tim watched him, thinking again of why Tony might have been the one he'd asked for. Was it because he knew that there was no chance Gibbs could have done something? Or was it a mistake? Had he been trying to say no Tony?

But what was coming clear to him, as he continued to ruminate on what had happened, was that it had something to do with Gibbs, that it had nothing to do with Tony, and that it was something outside of NCIS.

That last thought made Tim pause. Outside of NCIS? Yes, even though the thought had come from nowhere, it had the feel of being true. So if that was the case, why in the world had Tim been the one involved and not Tony? Tim wasn't exactly the go-to for most things outside of NCIS. Did that mean it was something computer-related? But how did all that lead to Tim being beaten up in a forest in New York?

Tim sighed and let his head drop back. This was the problem. Until he could remember everything, it was all one gigantic question mark and that was not a good thing when his life could be at stake.

And the pain was a lot duller right now, but he hated hurting so much. Every part of him had an ache. Tim looked at his hands, and even they had evidence of a severe beating. His knuckles were split, as if he'd been trying to beat back the people after him.

People. Not person. He kept thinking of multiple people being responsible. He wasn't sure if he should trust all these momentary thoughts. What guarantee was there that his addled brain was putting things together in a logical and correct way? He already knew that he was still messed up enough that he couldn't always get what he was thinking about out of his mouth. Who was to say that he wasn't actually addled enough that even his thoughts were messed up?

He wanted to scream with frustration, but he didn't for two reasons. One, he was afraid it would hurt. Two, he didn't want to wake Tony up. Tony didn't seem happy about being here, either, and that only made Tim feel worse about the whole situation. His asking for Tony had made Tony's life miserable, and if someone was still after him, Tim could have also put Tony in mortal danger...because Tim knew that Tony wouldn't stand aside and let someone come after him. Even if Tim told him to, Tony wouldn't do that.

Finally, Tim tried to get himself back down on the bed. All that thinking had tired him out. He lay down and tried to go to sleep again.

Sleep and heal. Sleep and heal.