Chapter 26

One month later...

"You really think I can handle it?" Tim asked.

"I don't know. Do you?"

He sat down on the chair. He'd been getting up and sitting down throughout the entire session.

"Sometimes...I think so. Other times..."

"You're afraid."

Tim nodded...and stood up again, pacing back and forth. "The first time didn't work out so well. I kind of...I lost it."

"We'll be taking it much more slowly this time. I am sorry that we jumped the gun the first time."

"I said I was fine."

"Yes, but, Tim, it's my job as your therapist to know when you're not fine."

Tim stopped and smiled.

"I guess we both screwed up then."

"Yes, I suppose so."

He sat down.

"Okay, so, let's talk through it. How are you doing?"

Tim shrugged.

"Words, Tim."

It was an oft-repeated instruction and Tim smiled.

"Okay, in terms of your conditioned responses?"

A deep breath. "I still have to think about it. How could two weeks change how I react? How could it happen like this?"

"The intensity and type of experience you had...Tim, you're doing well to be able to readjust to the point of returning to a job that requires the kind of action you find in law enforcement."

"I'm not ready for all that yet."

"No, but you're starting...and I have no doubt that you can do that, eventually. Conditioned response to a stimulus takes time to break."

"This sounds like Pavlov's dog."

"The terminology mostly is...but the studies on how humans are affected are not. Humans have additional complications that are not found in dogs. Speaking of dogs..."

Tim shook his head.

"It's not necessary for your recovery, Tim, but you should at least think about it."

"It's funny, you know," Tim said, shaking his head once more. "It's not like I loved Jethro all that much. I mean, I liked him. He was a good dog...when he wasn't trying to kill me." He smiled. "It's just that...how he died..."

"...because it was for you?"

"Yeah. Maybe..." He forced a laugh. "Maybe Abby's infected me with her perspective. Jethro was my responsibility and he shouldn't have been killed because they wanted me."

"No, he shouldn't have been killed...but that's not your fault."

"Even if you're right..."

"I am."

"...it doesn't matter because they still killed him."

"You still need to understand, Tim, that your ability to control the actions of others is about...nil."

Tim laughed. "I know."

"Accept, then, that nothing you could have done would have changed what happened. You might wish that you could...but you can't."

"But maybe..."

"No, Tim. These people were able to carry this out from experience going back nearly ten years. They knew just how to do it, how it worked. You had no idea. No one else knew what was going on. It's horrible, but you're going to have to live with it. Can you?"

Tim sat down and clasped his hands together.

"Can I?"

"You can. Do you want to?"

"Can I skip all the stuff that has to come first?" Tim asked, staring at his hands.

"No. I'm sorry. It doesn't work like that. One step at a time...and you can't skip the steps."

Tim sighed.

"You've made a lot of progress, Tim. Don't discount what you've managed to do."

"Is it wrong that I still just want it to be over?"

"No. It's not wrong to wish. It makes you try harder...if you believe that it can be. Do you?"

Tim looked at his fists. They were heavily scarred. The scars would never completely disappear...but they'd fade.

He looked up...

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

"Boss! What are you doing out here?" Tim asked in surprise.

Gibbs stood. "You need a ride to work."

"But I...how did you–?"

Gibbs just smiled and gestured. Tim looked back at his therapist and she smiled.

"Don't rush." The order was for both of them.

"Okay."

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

"Boss?"

"Yeah, McGee?"

"I'm not ready."

"For what?"

Tim looked out the car window. "For much."

Gibbs didn't respond. Instead, he kept driving. When they got to NCIS, he turned off the car.

"McGee?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't expect any more than you can give."

"I can't give a lot yet."

"That's fine. Anything you can do."

Tim nodded.

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

"Hey, McGee! Welcome back!"

"Not really back yet, Tony."

"Are you going to at least make it so we don't have to depend on Ziva for our computer junk?"

Ziva glared. "Better me than you."

"Right...because we like having someone threaten the computer with dismemberment every ten seconds."

Thwack!

Thwack!

"Enough! McGee, get to work!"

Tim looked at Ziva and Tony, both rubbing their heads, and then at Gibbs. Finally, he looked back at his computer.

"Okay, Boss."

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

"Burning a little midnight oil, Timothy?"

Tim looked up, smiled and shook his head. "Just thinking."

"About what, pray tell?"

"It's nice to be back."

"Yes, I'm sure it is. You shouldn't stay too late."

"I won't."

Ducky turned to go.

"Ducky?"

"Yes, lad?"

"Are you happy?"

Ducky looked at Tim, into his eyes and saw a genuine question there.

"Yes, lad. Most of the time."

"How long did it take?"

"I'm not sure I remember when I began feeling happy again. Thirty years is a long time."

"But you still remember."

"Yes, Timothy. You can't forget some things."

"But you're still happy?"

"Yes. Most of the time, as I said. It took time."

"Time heals all wounds?"

"Maybe not all, but many."

"And that's enough?"

"Yes, lad."

Tim sat back and considered.

"It's not enough right now."

"It can be."

Tim nodded.

"Okay. I guess I'll try then."

Ducky smiled. "Why don't you start now?" He held out his hand.

Tim took his hand and allowed Ducky to pull him up.

As they walked out of NCIS, Tim felt the familiar anxiety twist his gut, but he breathed through it.

"All is well, Timothy."

"Not yet..." Tim said, "but maybe later."

Ducky smiled.

"Later is fine."

Tim swallowed and nodded. "Later is fine...and I guess I'm willing to wait."

FINIS!