Chapter 9
Tim walked into the gym and looked around for Bob, but he didn't see him, so he headed back to the locker room to change. Usually, he just came and left in his workout gear, but he had a meeting with Roy after his training today and there was no way he'd meet with the CIA director as sweaty as he always was after this training. For one thing, it would be disrespectful and for another, Tim himself would be embarrassed.
When he came out, Bob was still not in sight. Tim would rather start with what Bob had in mind for him. After all, he was the expert and that was why Tim was here. However, he also didn't want to just sit around and wait. He wanted to be doing something. So he headed over to the heavy bag. He didn't set a timer this time. He figured that Bob would be in soon and he didn't want to get into a true rhythm and then have to stop abruptly.
He didn't go all out. He just used it as a warmup.
Two minutes in, Bob came striding into the gym and right over to him.
"Okay, knock it off," he said.
Tim did as he was told and waited to find out what they were going to work on today. Bob was always extremely abrupt in their sessions and he wasn't one for personal conversations. Besides that, he always seemed to feel that Tim was wasting his time. So Tim tried not to waste any of his time.
But things were different this time. Tim was surprised when Bob pointed at a chair.
"Sit."
"Why?" Tim asked.
"Sit."
"Okay."
Tim walked over to the chair and sat down. Bob sat down on another chair and stared hard at him.
"What is it?" Tim asked.
"Why didn't you tell me what's really going on here?"
"Uh... what do you mean?"
Bob glared at him as if Tim's innocent question had insulted him.
"I mean that you're not getting this training because you want to be some kind of uber killing machine."
"I never said I did," Tim said, feeling confused.
"Guys like you don't want CIA training for good reasons," Bob said. "You want it because it makes you feel tough, like no one can touch you. It makes you feel like you can do anything to anyone. And it's ridiculous. Guys like you are doing it for all the wrong reasons and you usually can't hack it for more than a few weeks because this training is hard and it's supposed to be. Guys like you don't stick it out for long."
"Guys like me?" Tim asked.
"VIPs. I hate training VIPs, but I always get assigned them, probably because they know that I'll make them change their minds and stop wasting anyone's time."
"Um... okay?" Tim said, unsure of where this was going. "You're saying you don't want to train me anymore?"
"No," Bob said, his expression one of irritation. "You're so afraid of someone getting to you that you're willing to put yourself through this week after week just so that maybe next time they won't get you."
Tim's eyes flicked away from Bob and he stood up and took a couple of steps away from him.
"I told you I wanted to be ready for anything."
"Yeah, you said that last week. Not months ago when this started."
"You never asked," Tim said.
"No, I didn't. You're putting forth a killing effort, just in case. You nearly overdid it last week, just in case. I knew I could psych you out, but I thought it was because you were soft. You're not soft. You're weak, and I don't care how many times you can hit that bag or how hard you can hit it. If you can't figure out how to deal with your life, it won't matter because you'll fall apart before you can do anything with this training. Just a threat will take you out."
Tim didn't respond because it was true.
There was a brief silence and then, suddenly, Bob was grabbing his arm and turning him around. ...and Bob was a lot stronger than Tim was.
"If you're going to run yourself into the ground like this, then, you're also going to start some other training along with it."
"What other training?" Tim asked, almost afraid of what the answer might be.
"Mental training. Being strong isn't all about muscle. It's about how much you know and understand about yourself. If you don't understand your own mind, then, anyone can get to you."
"I understand myself," Tim said. "I have therapy every week to make sure I do."
"Well, it's not working because you don't," Bob retorted, still sounding angry and irritated. "If you understood yourself, you'd know that all this training is unnecessary. Sure, it can help you get stronger, but you don't need it."
"I need to be as strong as possible."
"Why? There's always someone out there who will be stronger than you. I'm stronger than you are right now and I always will be. I'm bigger than you are, and I've spent most of my life training myself and others. You can't beat me. You never will be able to beat me. So what's the point?"
"It's not all about being bigger. Bruce Lee wasn't as big as you, but I'll bet he could beat you up," Tim said.
Bob laughed at him. "You're claiming that you can reach the level of Bruce Lee? Please. You're ridiculous."
Tim was a little stung by the laughter, but he couldn't really fathom beating someone like Bob in a fight. What he said was far too true.
"Get in the ring. Let's test your hypothesis right now."
Bob strode away from him, to the sparring ring. Tim hadn't been in there yet. His training had been focused on building his endurance and strength, not actual fighting. He didn't move for a moment.
"You waiting for a printed invitation? Get over here," Bob said.
Tim swallowed and walked to the ring. Reluctantly, he climbed through the ropes. He really didn't think he could beat someone like Bob. Not ever, really, but definitely not now.
He stood there for a moment. Then, Bob unexpectedly pushed him and he staggered back against the ropes.
"Come on. What are you waiting for? I'll even give you the first punch. Heck, I could probably give you the first ten punches."
Tim regained his balance and then still stood there.
Suddenly, Bob ran at him, pinned him against the ropes and brought up his fist. He swung it at Tim's face.
...and stopped inches from hitting him.
Then, he let Tim go and Tim sagged against the ropes. Bob stepped back and skewered Tim with a stare that he couldn't avoid.
"I beat you before you even stepped into the ring," Bob said. "You were afraid to fight me. You were afraid even to start the fight. I was able to beat you without a single blow. Now, you try to tell me that you're mentally strong enough."
For a few seconds, Tim did nothing. Then, he let himself flop to the mat and ran his fingers through his hair as he dropped his head in shame at his own weakness.
For a long time, there was only silence. Then, Tim felt Bob sit down beside him.
When he spoke, his tone was completely different. There was no disdain, no irritation, no anger. In fact, his tone might even be described as gentle and encouraging, although Tim would never dare tell Bob that he sounded gentle.
"I'm not saying anything against your shrink, but what he's trying to do for you probably isn't the same thing as I'm talking about. He's helping with your mental health and that's great, but I'm talking about making your mind as strong as your body."
"You just said that I couldn't beat you."
"Yeah? So what? Last week, you went at the punching bag for thirty minutes and you succeeded. Why did you believe me?"
"Because I've seen the way you move. You're strong. You know what you're doing. You're the expert. I'm not," Tim said, softly.
"Yeah, I am, and yes, I probably could beat you, but that doesn't mean you're physically weak. But the fact that it worked on you says that mentally you're weak. People can talk you into defeat. You can't let that happen. I could beat you, but it wouldn't be a one-sided fight. You'd be able to hold your own for quite a while. ...except that you don't believe that. While you're training to be ready, you don't feel ready, you don't think you can be ready and you won't ever feel ready if you aren't mentally trained to deal with the challenges you've got."
Tim said nothing.
"I'll keep training you until I'm told to do otherwise, either by you or by my superior, but it'll be a waste if you don't work on your mind, too. My methods aren't the same as a shrink. It's more like boot camp, but you'll be better off if you do it. You willing to try it?"
"I'm not a military person."
There was a soft chuckle.
"You don't have to be. I'm not suggesting literal boot camp. I'm suggesting that you get psychologically trained while you're getting physically trained. What do you think?"
Tim chanced looking over at Bob. And for about the first time, Bob's expression wasn't one of impatience or irritation.
"Does that involve beating me up?"
Bob grinned.
"Only if you agree to it. Otherwise, no. A good drill instructor doesn't even have to touch the recruits at any time."
"And are you a good drill instructor?"
Bob laughed and stood up. Then, he held out his hand.
"I'm better than any drill instructor."
Tim took Bob's hand and Bob pulled him to his feet.
"Okay, Tim. Let's get to work."
"Okay."
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Ducky was sitting in his home, deciding what to do with his day. Sometimes, being retired was absolutely wonderful because he had the freedom to do anything he wanted with his day. However, sometimes, it was hard because he didn't automatically have something to fill his day.
So when there was a knock on his front door, he was happy enough to answer it and hope that it brought him something to do. He walked to the door and opened it.
"Jethro. What brings you here first thing in the morning?" he asked, standing aside.
"You got time to talk?" Gibbs asked.
Ducky smiled. "Of course, I do."
"Good."
They went into the study and sat down.
"What is it, Jethro? Is there something more with Timothy?"
"No. Carew."
Ducky felt his brow furrow. "What about him?"
"What do you know about him?"
Ducky smiled. "After two years of speaking with him, I still wouldn't consider myself an expert on Levi Carew."
"You know more than I do."
"That would not be difficult, I have to say."
Gibbs rolled his eyes.
"What brings this about this sudden interest in Levi?" Ducky asked. "While I've been free about my interest in getting to know him, none of you showed any interest in knowing anything more."
"Do you know why he won't lie?"
"Only the very basics. He told me that he wouldn't say anything more than what he told me and I've respected that."
"Can you tell me?"
"He said that he grew up believing that the worst thing he could do in his life was tell a lie. And that's all he told me."
"The worst?" Gibbs repeated skeptically.
"Yes, and I don't think he was exaggerating. He's expressed no regret about killing people during his time in the CIA, but he was very clear about that. Why this sudden interest?"
"I talked to him yesterday. About Tim."
"Oh? Why?"
"He's doing more than just helping. I wanted to know why."
"And? Do you understand it now?" Ducky asked, with a smile.
"He said that he didn't save his own son, but he can save Tim," Gibbs said, not smiling.
"Really. I haven't asked him much about his son, knowing that the death was painful to him. However, even so, Jethro, it would behoove you to acknowledge that Levi Carew has done nothing but try to help Timothy ever since they went to Yemen. Nothing he has done has been anything but helpful to Timothy. Was he still aggravating? Absolutely, but I think he enjoys seeing if he can irritate people. He likes to know how much control others have over their own emotions. That's why Anthony will always lose to Levi Carew. He is much better now than he was, but even so, Levi would be able to anger him with little to no effort. Timothy ignores his aggravation and I have been very up front with him and he doesn't try it with me very often anymore. Jethro, you've started to think about this situation in a different way. I would suggest that you should endeavor to truly understand the man. He is intriguing. It would not be a waste of your time to speak with him more. If you'd like, you could join us for tea."
Gibbs raised an eyebrow and Ducky chuckled.
"Yes, really. Our conversations mostly happen over a cup of tea, and you are most welcome to join us if you'd like. ...so long as you can be polite, which I think you can."
"Wouldn't be too sure of that, Ducky."
"You are capable. If you'd like to think about it, that's fine."
Typically, Gibbs didn't respond. He just stood and started to walk to the door. Then, he paused and turned around.
"How long do you think he has?"
"To live?"
"Yeah."
"It's difficult to say. I know that he mostly does what is recommended to keep him as healthy as possible, but heart failure is incurable... except with a heart transplant which he has said he won't do, mostly because of his age, but also, I believe, because he doesn't feel he deserves another chance at life. I would be surprised if he lived more than ten years and I wouldn't be surprised if it was less. However, Levi enjoys surprising people, so he may pull it off."
Gibbs nodded and left. Ducky sat back and considered. He didn't know how old Levi was, but he had a daughter in her late thirties at least. He could be close to Gibbs' own age, perhaps a bit older. It was a sobering thought to know that death was coming sooner than it should.
Well, that had taken up some time and been quite the surprise. Now what to do with his day? Ducky smiled to himself and went back to his plans.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Tim was still feeling tired as he left the gym and headed for Roy's office. Bob had really pushed him today, but there was definitely a lot less antagonism involved, for which Tim was grateful. He would never dream of complaining about it, but he didn't mind having a lot less of it.
When he got to Roy's office, Marjean smiled at him.
"Agent McGee, the director had a last-minute meeting and he asked if you would mind waiting for a few minutes."
"That's fine," Tim said.
"Good. You can just have a seat. It shouldn't take long."
"Okay."
Tim sat on one of the chairs and tried not to worry that the meeting was about him. As he sat, he felt the aches that were developing in his muscles. It was a good thing that he didn't have work today and that tomorrow was Sunday. Yes, he could get called in unexpectedly but mostly he could depend on tomorrow being a day off. To recover so that no one at work knew. Gibbs and Ducky might know, but they weren't at work anymore.
Then, the office door opened and three agents came out. They all gave Tim a glance and he could tell that they knew who he was, but none of them said a word. They simply left and then Roy gestured.
"Come on in, Agent McGee. My apologies for the delay."
"It's fine. I was still recovering from my training today."
Roy smiled as he closed the door.
"He doesn't hold back, does he."
"No, he doesn't. Not about anything," Tim said.
"Is it going well?"
"Yes, I think so. We seem to have come to an understanding of sorts. He doesn't think I'm wasting his time as much anymore."
Roy smiled a little at that. "Good. So what is it?"
"I told you earlier this year that Zahara and I were considering another international trip to see her brother."
"Yes, in Cairo."
"Exactly. Well, barring any new intel you have about my status, we've decided that the end of this school year is the time."
"I see."
There was a pause, and Tim felt very worried for a moment.
"Director... is there a change?"
"No. No, Agent McGee. There's no change at the moment. It will take some planning, however. How soon?"
"It's still a couple of months away. I didn't want to spring it on you at all."
"Thank you."
"We haven't bought tickets yet, either. So if there is a time that will be better, we can shift our trip any way you'd like us to."
"How long would this trip be?"
"About a week. We're taking our children with us this time and they're both pretty young still so we wanted to give them an experience without overwhelming them."
Roy began jotting down notes as Tim was talking.
"Do you know anywhere in particular you'll be going?"
"The pyramids and the Sphinx for sure. We've talked about doing a boat ride on the Nile, but since I get seasick, that may or may not happen."
"Are you planning on going anywhere besides Egypt?"
"No. Just Egypt. Just the regular tourist stuff. I know that this is hard to manage and we wanted to make it as easy as possible."
"Okay. Will you be staying with your wife's brother?"
"No. His apartment is far too small. We're planning on a hotel."
"Good. A hotel room is easier. We'll need to shuffle around your guards for this. I'd like to have some who will fit in over there. I'll make sure you get a list of who it will be. I still don't want to make use of CIA planes. That attracts too much official government attention."
"That's fine," Tim said. "We did it on a regular plane last time. We can again."
"All right. The time you've picked to go is fine as far as these things go. Egypt is more stable than most countries in the Middle East. So decide on when you're going and make up an itinerary. I'd like to have that a full month in advance. We'll have a couple of agents on site when you get to Cairo and we'll have some accompanying you on the plane. First class?"
"Yes."
"Good. That's easier to manage. I do appreciate that you've spread these international trips out."
"I know it's a hassle," Tim said. "If it's too much to..."
"No, Agent McGee. You have a life to live and part of that is visiting family. Your family just happens to be a bit further away than others have to worry about. We'll keep an eye out for anything changing and you'll have to be prepared to cancel your plans or at least change them to something domestic at the last minute. I don't anticipate that being an issue, but it's always possible."
"I understand."
"Good. We've had some experience with this already when you went to Morocco. We can manage again in Egypt. You should make sure your wife's brother is aware of the need for a schedule."
"I'll tell him... but I have to say that he's pretty rigid. He won't have a problem with being on a schedule."
Roy laughed a little. "All right. Then, enjoy planning out your vacation and get the itinerary to me as quickly as you can."
"Will do."
Tim stood up and started to leave.
"Are you doing all right, Agent McGee?"
"Yeah," Tim said, briefly.
"Are you doing well?"
Tim looked back and smiled weakly. "No."
"Maybe this will be what you need."
"Maybe."
"Have a good day."
"Thanks."
Tim left and then headed out to his car. As he left the building, he stopped and looked at the CIA motto, emblazoned on the wall.
"'And ye shall know the truth and the truth shall make you free,'" he whispered to himself. "What truth will make me free?"
He stared at the wall for a moment longer and then left the building and headed home.
