Chapter 50

Tim opened his eyes. It was dark and quiet in the room. The house was dark and quiet. All the members of the McGee family were sleeping.

Except him.

Gibbs was there. The CIA was there. There was no reason for Tim to worry about Ahmed right now.

But he had to worry. He couldn't stay here, safe and secure with his family and leave Ahmed alone.

He could find against the feeling that he had to be there to watch over Ahmed, but he didn't want to. He needed to show Zahara's brother just how much he cared. Ahmed might not hear or accept words. He needed to have actions. And that might not even work, either.

But he knew that Ahmed didn't really need him there.

But Tim also knew that he needed to be there.

So he quietly slid out of bed, left a note for Zahara and then left their bedroom, glad that Marra was sleeping in Salma's bedroom. Marra always noticed when he was up at night, but she wouldn't if she was shut in Salma's room.

He started to walk down the stairs.

"Baba?"

He stopped and looked up. Jonathan was standing on the landing watching him.

"Yes, Jonathan?" Tim asked, keeping his voice very low.

"Where you go?"

Tim hesitated but then decided to be honest.

"I'm going to check on Ahmed."

"Why? Is he sick?"

"No. I just want to make sure he's all right. You can go back to bed. I'll be back in the morning."

"I come with you!"

"No, you need your sleep."

"I come," Jonathan said with dogged persistence. "I strong!"

"You need to go back to bed, Jonathan."

"I come with you to see Ahmed!" Jonathan repeated.

Tim knew what was going to happen if he kept this up. Jonathan would eventually accept it, but probably not before he started getting loud and woke everyone up. He sighed.

"Okay, but you need to stay quiet and you need to try to sleep when we get there. All right?"

Jonathan grinned and nodded, satisfied that he had got his way. Tim felt his son was far too devious, but he went back into the bedroom and added to the note he'd left for Zahara, letting her know that Jonathan was with him. She probably wouldn't be happy about it... but then, she probably wouldn't be happy about Tim slipping away in the night to sit by her brother. Tim knew it, but he had to.

Then, he slipped back out and was disappointed (although not surprised) to see Jonathan waiting impatiently beside the stairs. Tim took him by the hand and they left the house together. Tim wondered what his CIA guards thought about this nighttime journey. Certainly, it wasn't to be expected.

They got to the hospital without incident and headed inside.

"Now, Jonathan, you have to be very quiet. Ahmed needs his rest. If he's not awake, you can't wake him up, understand?"

"Yes, Baba."

"Good."

They approached Ahmed's room and Tim spared a moment to wonder what Gibbs would think about this since he had asked Gibbs to stay. Well, they had got their kids to bed, just because one of them hadn't stayed there. Oh, well. He was here.

They turned the corner and Gibbs looked at them with some faint surprise.

"Hey, Boss. You can go and get some sleep if you want," Tim said.

"What are you doing here?" Gibbs asked.

"We see Uncle Ahmed!" Jonathan announced proudly. "I strong!"

Gibbs' eyebrow went up.

"Seriously, Boss. You don't have to stay."

Gibbs stood and walked over. Then, with Jonathan looking up eagerly, Gibbs leaned in and spoke so that Jonathan couldn't hear.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked.

"I have to," Tim said.

"This isn't your fault, Tim."

"Doesn't matter."

"Yes, it does. It does matter because it's true and you don't need to be here."

"Yes, I do."

Gibbs looked almost disappointed, but Tim wasn't changing his mind. So he met Gibbs' gaze without flinching. Finally, Gibbs stepped back.

"Come over to my place on Saturday. I have something for you to start working on."

"What?"

"It's a surprise."

Tim tried to smile. "A box?"

"No. You're better than a box."

"Maybe I'm not."

"You are. You have been for a long time. Saturday."

"Okay."

Then, Gibbs walked away down the hall, passing one of Tim's guards. Normally, they didn't come indoors, but Tim supposed that they were being more cautious this time.

"All right, Jonathan. We're going into the room now and you need to sit on my lap and try to sleep while we keep Ahmed company."

"Yes, Baba."

Tim quietly opened the door and he felt his heart twist anew at how badly Ahmed had been hurt simply because of his connection to Tim. It hadn't been fatal and he would recover, but still, it was wrong and it had been done for the express purpose of getting to Tim. Ahmed had been collateral damage, not the goal. Right now, though, at least he was sleeping. It was good to see that he could at least relax enough to rest.

"Baba, Ahmed is okay?" Jonathan whispered loudly.

"He will be, but he needs his sleep."

Tim walked over to a chair that folded out into a cot. He set it up and then sat down. Jonathan climbed onto his lap and leaned against him.

"I pray for Ahmed," Jonathan said.

"Okay, but do it without talking. Just think the words in your head."

"God hears words in my head?" Jonathan asked.

Tim didn't know the answer to that himself, but he nodded anyway.

"Yes."

"Okay."

Jonathan closed his eyes and his lips were moving but he was being quiet. As time passed, Jonathan relaxed and fell asleep. Tim didn't. He let Jonathan sleep on his lap, curled up against him. Tim looked down at him and smiled a little. There was just something about Jonathan, even when he drove Tim nuts, he still had this connection. In part, it was because of the role Jonathan had played in helping Tim get out of that dark space after his abduction, but there was more to it than that and Tim wasn't really sure what it was.

As the night crept on, Tim felt tired but he didn't want to sleep. However, he couldn't help but drowse a little.

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

Gibbs sat in his basement, looking at the lumber he had on hand. Then, he looked at the drawing he'd made of Tim's new writing desk. Even though Tim had shown a penchant for cedar, that wasn't really good for a writing desk that would be holding a significant weight. Neither was the white walnut. It was far too soft. Teak would be nice, but it was so hard that Gibbs wasn't sure his tools could take it. He could go with some kind of oak and it would be easy to stain afterward. Maybe some birch.

No matter what, though, it was going to be good wood. Tim hadn't usually asked about how much the wood cost and Gibbs wasn't going to mention it. Quite frankly, as much as Tim got out of this hobby, Gibbs simply enjoyed having Tim there. For all his solitary ways, Gibbs had to admit (to himself) that it was nice having someone to share this hobby with. So he'd buy some new wood tomorrow and have it there for Tim to start working on.

That much decided, Gibbs sat down on a stool and poured himself some bourbon. As he sipped it, he thought about Tim's sudden appearance at the hospital with Jonathan in tow. He doubted that Jonathan's presence had been planned. Gibbs smiled a little at that thought. Jonathan had a definite stubborn streak and Tim had a tendency to give in to his son.

But Tim's decision to come back to the hospital at all was both a little concerning and completely unsurprising. Everyone knew that he felt responsible for what had happened to Ahmed. It was inevitable when the reason for Ahmed's suffering was the fact that people wanted access to Tim. There was no way that Tim could not feel that weight. However, he wasn't as bad as he could have been. While it was clear that Tim wouldn't be easy with what had happened, he hadn't completely fallen apart. That was good. What would it take for Tim to get over what had happened? Who knew? But maybe this would be a chance for Tim to take some steps forward that he hadn't taken in the last couple of years. Obviously, Tim didn't feel confident about that, but he never believed that he could make progress until he did.

He could make it. Gibbs had to believe it was possible, if only because Tim didn't.

With that thought, Gibbs decided to go to bed.

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

"Why are you here?"

The voice startled Tim and he jerked awake, not realizing he'd fallen asleep. Jonathan stirred against him but didn't awaken.

Ahmed was awake and looking at him, his expression unreadable.

Tim sat up slowly, making sure to keep Jonathan sleeping. He looked at his son to ensure that he hadn't disturbed him. Jonathan cuddled closer to him and Tim couldn't help but smile a little at that. But Ahmed was still there and he had asked the same question that others probably would ask, but coming from him it needed a different answer. He couldn't just say that he didn't know or something like that.

"Why are you here?" Ahmed asked again.

Tim looked at his brother-in-law, trying to ascertain whether or not this would lead to anger and hate and recrimination. He couldn't tell.

"I needed to be," he said finally, keeping his voice soft.

"Why? People are watching me here. You should be with your family."

Tim looked at Jonathan again and thought of how quickly his son and become attached to his uncle. He looked up.

"I am," he said. "...unless that's not what you want. ...unless...your pain is enough that you want nothing to do with me. If so, then, I'll leave."

Ahmed was silent for a few moments, but his eyes never moved away from Tim.

"What is your worst pain?" he asked.

Tim didn't even need to think about it.

"My worst pains...no matter whether you mean physically or mentally... they don't show. There are no scars." He took a deep breath and looked away. "They beat my feet... with a metal bar. Over and over. It was never going to kill me. They could keep it up forever and they said that they would unless I gave them what they wanted. My feet hurt so much that I couldn't even let people touch them without feeling pain."

Another silence.

"And your mind?"

Tim couldn't look at Ahmed at all for this one. He hugged Jonathan to him. Even now, three years later, the pain was there; the grief was there. It didn't take over his brain like it used to, but it was still there.

"Ray died for me. He stepped in front of me so that he would get shot instead of me and I watched him bleed to death. I couldn't do anything to save him. I hate it that anyone has to suffer because I'm considered important. I have tried so hard to make it so that people stop thinking that I matter, but I can't seem to get through to them...and so people suffer and die because I'm important. It's the worst thing. It will always be the worst thing. And I'm so sorry that you had to suffer this time."

The silence descended again and Tim couldn't break it. He couldn't look up. He could only sit there and wait for Ahmed to say something.

"I could not let your son lose his father. ...as I lost my father."

Finally, Tim looked up and Ahmed was not looking at him. He was looking at Jonathan.

"What?" Tim asked.

"I knew that they wanted you. Part of me wished I could have told them where you were. It would have stopped the pain. ...but even if I had known where you were, I could not let your son feel what I felt." Ahmed looked at Tim now. "My father left. I begged him to stay, but he would not stay with us. I do not know why. Then, he died and he never will come back. I could not let your son experience that pain."

For some reason, Tim suddenly said something he wasn't sure he would ever have said out loud.

"I've thought about leaving, just to spare my family the grief that I bring by being there sometimes."

"No," Ahmed said. "Perhaps that is what my father thought, but it is wrong. It is not better to separate yourself from the ones who love you. You only give them the pain you think you are stopping."

Tim grimaced and then looked down at his beautiful son in his arms.

"I don't think I could bring myself to leave anyway. I love them too much."

"Good," Ahmed said. "Then, you should go home and be with them. Not here with me. I am safe here. I will heal. Your family will heal if you are with them."

Tim shook his head and then suddenly remembered his necklace. The one that Ahmed had given him when Zahara had decided to become a U.S. citizen. He reached up and undid the clasp and then held out the Hand of Fatima. The charm that Ahmed's father had given him before he had left his family.

"Do you want this back?" he asked.

Ahmed held out his hand and Tim put it there, feeling strangely naked without it. Ahmed looked at the necklace for a long time.

"You wear this?"

"I never take it off. Zahara got a chain for it so that it could get wet. I don't know how much it protects us, but I wear it."

"None of you came to any harm."

"No. Not this time."

Ahmed looked up at him and held it out.

"This is yours. I gave it to you. One does not take back a gift given."

"I wouldn't insist."

"Perhaps not, but it would not be right. I gave this to you. It is important and you must keep wearing it." Ahmed hesitated but then actually put it in Tim's hand and closed his fingers over it. "You are part of my family and you must have this."

Tim felt unexpected tears prick his eyes as he took back the necklace and clenched it tightly. He lifted his fist and pressed it against his lips.

"You are a better man than I am, Ahmed," he said, very softly. "I would not have blamed you for wishing to have no part of my life, for wanting me far away."

"No, akhī. It was not you who did this to me. It was them. Whoever they were, they caused my pain, not you." He shook his head. "It was not me. It was not you."

Tim tried to hold back the tears, but some escaped and he closed his eyes tightly.

"Baba, why you crying?" Jonathan asked

Tim opened his eyes and managed to smile.

"Because I love you so much, Jonathan," he said through his tears.

"Love you, too, Baba!" Jonathan said and hugged him tightly.

Tim hugged his son and then looked at Ahmed and saw, just for a moment, an expression of regret. Ahmed never could have what Jonathan did.

"Jonathan, Ahmed is awake," Tim said, wiping away the tears.

Jonathan looked at Ahmed and clapped happily.

"Khālī!" he said. "All better?"

"No. Not yet, ibn ukhtī. I will be better."

"Good." Then, Jonathan looked at Tim. "Baba, we go home now?"

Tim smiled a little and then looked at Ahmed who nodded.

"Yes, Jonathan," he said. "It's time to go home, but it's still really early so you'll have to try to sleep some more."

"Yes, Baba."

Tim set Jonathan on the floor and stood.

"Akhī, put it on," Ahmed said.

Tim looked at the necklace he was holding and then down at Jonathan who was just waiting to take hold of his hand. Then, Tim wiped away a stray tear and put the necklace back on, feeling as though, in that moment, it really did provide something he'd been lacking.

"All right, Jonathan," he said. "Let's go home."

Jonathan reached up and Tim smiled and then picked him up and carried him out of the room with a last look at Ahmed whose eyes were closed once more.

They walked out to the car and as Tim put Jonathan into his carseat, Jonathan began to droop, but he smiled.

"Baba, can Ahmed stay with us?"

"Maybe, Jonathan. I don't know."

Then, Tim got into the car and drove them home. Jonathan fell asleep on the way and Tim carried him inside and then put him to bed. He went into his bedroom and eased himself into bed.

Zahara slid close to him but didn't say a word.

Tim held her until he fell asleep.