Epilogue
Two years later...
"Hey, Probie, you want to catch a movie tonight?" Tony asked as he stood to leave the bullpen. Tim didn't react. "Yo! McGee!"
Tim looked up, startled. "What, Tony?"
"I said, do you want to catch a movie or something?"
"Oh, no thanks. Not tonight. Raincheck, okay?"
"I don't give rainchecks, Probie. You'll have to wait until I'm feeling magnanimous again."
"Been practicing that word long, Tony?" Tim asked, teasingly.
"Ha ha. Very funny. I don't want you to come anymore." That was a lie. As the unofficial deadline of two years had come and gone with no return of Sarah, Tim had sunk into a low-level depression. It wasn't dangerous, not yet, anyway, but he'd been withdrawing more than usual. Blaser had finally exhausted his appeals after his conviction. Sarah had appeared, testified, and disappeared during his trial and subsequent appeals. They had all anticipated her return. Tim had teased Tony about wanting to date his sister, now that she was closer to his age. Tony had laughed but hadn't quite denied it. But two months had passed with no sign. It was useless and dangerous to ask Jenny when she'd be back; so none of them had tried it, but they'd all noticed Tim's withdrawal. He fought it and, like now, was able to pull himself out, often with help from the rest of the team, but it didn't last. Without quite admitting it consciously, they had all become worried about him alone in his apartment at night. Abby stayed over sometimes, but not every night.
"Shucks. I'm in the depths of despair," Tim said, shifting his voice into the whispery voice of the albino monk from The Princess Bride.
"It's pit of despair, McGee. Have I taught you nothing?"
"Apparently not."
"Are you sure you don't want to come along?" Tony asked sincerely.
"I'm sure."
"See you tomorrow then."
"Bye, Tony." Tim watched as Tony got on the elevator and then sighed as his mood turned black again. He knew that the two years had only been a rough estimate, but being nearly two months past it was hard, and it got harder and harder as time passed. Everyone had been great, but it was hard.
It wasn't that his life had been full of waiting for Sarah to reappear. He and Liz got together two or three times a year. Last year they had visited Connecticut together. She would be graduating at the end of the summer and he planned on being there for it. Janene had got him to speak at her school, not once, but twice, and she had begged him to do it again. Rock Hollow had finally been published and, to his surprise, was doing just as well as Deep Six had done. The on-again phase of his relationship with Abby had lasted nearly two years, and it was hard to tell who was more surprised by that, he or Abby. He'd even been happy, but he needed to know that his family was safe. That included Sarah, and he couldn't know which meant that he was left in limbo. It was the not-knowing that was the hardest thing to bear.
"Still here, McGee?"
Tim looked up, tearing himself away from his reverie once more.
"Yeah, Ziva."
"I found something." Tim looked at her curiously. She seemed ill-at-ease, but not sorrowful, as she would have been if Sarah had been the something.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, ever since you told me of that...king who tormented you, I have been trying to find him."
"Why?" Tim asked, suddenly a little leery of where this conversation might head. Ziva still had a merciless mean streak that even the past two years had not been able to get out of her.
"Don't look at me like that. I would not have killed him. I was thinking of getting him arrested."
"I think there's a statute of limitations on assault, Ziva."
"Well, it does not matter." She held out a clipping. "This is the man, I think. Do you agree?"
Tim looked at the article. It was about the problem of violence on the streets of New York City, written about ten years ago. The photo along with the clipping was of a man horrifically familiar to Tim. In fact, it was all he could do not to through the offending image into the trash. He forced himself to look at the photo.
"He was killed in some sort of brawl outside a bar."
Tim looked again at the photo and noticed it was an autopsy photo. He could see numerous half-healed scars, most likely from a shard of glass.
"I didn't kill him then."
"It does not seem so."
"I can't believe how much that matters to me, even now."
"I can."
Tim looked up at her. "Thank you, Ziva." He stood and hugged her quickly. As long as no one was around, she was more than willing to share in that friendly contact. It had never grown into something romantic. For that, they were both thankful. Their friendship had deepened, however, and they wouldn't trade that private closeness for anything.
"I will dispose of this, but I thought you might like to know."
"Yes, I did. Thanks."
"You're welcome. Good night."
"'Night." Tim sat down again and leaned back in his chair. Knowing that he hadn't killed the King of the Alleys took a load off him that he hadn't even realized he was carrying. It was so like Ziva to know what would help when she couldn't address his main concern. Now, he just had to wait for Gibbs to come down from Jenny's office and leave. Then, he could give up the pretense that he was working and sneak down to Abby's lab and sleep. He'd been sleeping here more and more often. He didn't always want company, but the last few days he couldn't bear going to his empty apartment. Abby had already left, understanding that he needed to be alone.
He waited, but Gibbs didn't appear. The latest case had required late nights and early mornings of everyone, and he was tired. His eyes drooped and his head fell to the desk as he gave into his exhaustion and abandoned himself to fitful dreams.
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"Tim... Tim... wake up," the voice was whispered, like a tendril of music through his slumber. "Tim!"
Tim's eyelids fluttered. The overhead lights were still on and they blinded him. He squeezed his eyes tight shut again.
"Wake up, Tim!" The voice was tantalizingly familiar and becoming more insistent.
He finally pulled himself back to consciousness and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He stopped mid-rub and gaped. A young woman with blonde-streaked brown hair stood in front of him, smiling excitedly at him. He stood, a disbelieving smile on his own face. He couldn't speak.
"The two-time best-selling author has no words?" she said facetiously. "I'm shocked. I expected more."
As he had before, Tim could only say her name. "Sarah..."
"Ah, you recognized me. I thought you might have forgotten what I looked like."
Tim finally got his brain working again. "Never. Although your hair is quite different."
Sarah's smile never flickered, but her eyes filled with tears. "I've missed you, bro."
"I've missed you, too, sis."
They stared at each other for a few more seconds before Sarah dropped her bag and grabbed Tim in a bear hug. He reciprocated.
"Are you back?"
"I'm back... if you still want me."
"You're always welcome. I love you, Sarah," Tim said, tears spilling from his own eyes.
"I love you, too, Tim." Sarah cried into his shoulder. "I feel like I'm me again."
"I know exactly what you mean," Tim said quietly.
From high above, Jenny and Gibbs leaned on the balcony, watching the scene.
"Now, it's over, Jen," Gibbs said.
"I agree, Jethro. This is a good way to end it," she said.
"Not the end, just a new beginning," he amended.
The beginning...
A/N: Hey, y'all! Thanks for reading! This has been the longest story I've ever written, bar none. I hope you enjoyed the wild ride.