A/N: This is a multi-chapter Tim-centered story about drug use. It's not a comedy by any means. It's very serious. It's a story I began when I wondered what Tim would be like if he were a drug addict. These thoughts occur to me sometimes. I've done a lot of research for it and I hope I'm accurate. Feel free to point out places where I've screwed up. I'm aware that this is a sensitive subject for some people, but I've tried to do it right and make it convincing.

Set during season 6.

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS. I do not make money from my fanfiction. I am not DPB. I'm just a grad student writing for fun.

Just Once More
by Enthusiastic Fish

Chapter 1

It had been a very long day...very very long, and Tim was so tense by the time he left that even Tony had noticed. Tim could still hear him in his head when he reached his apartment, barely noticing Jethro as he greeted his master.

"Man, Probie, you need to relax! You're so wound up that you could power a small city!"

He was right. What with Gibbs in his face about this computer thing and that computer thing and his problems getting used to field work again and readjusting to being at the bottom of the pecking order and a string of intense cases which had generally resulted in no one going home before midnight...Tim was tense. It would take him hours to unwind enough to sleep...and even then...he wouldn't sleep. He'd worry, just like he worried about tests, about getting things done right the first time.

"I have to...I really have to," he whispered to his apartment. "Just one more time." It would be the last time. This was a special case. He needed to relax. He'd never be able to sleep. It had been such roller coaster ride the last few...days...weeks...months. No one would be surprised that he was having a little trouble. He knew that he'd be in trouble if they found out, but they just wouldn't get it. They wouldn't understand. He needed it.

How long had it been? Tim thought back...over days...and weeks...and months...and then shook his head in rejection of the length of time this most recent bout seemed to have lasted. That was impossible. He hadn't been taking it for that long. Had he?

This would be the last time. It would...just for now, he needed it.

He walked to his desk and opened one of the old drawers.

"Just this once. It's a special case," Tim said, subconsciously trying to convince himself more than anything else. Jethro jumped around, barking, wanting attention. Tim paused to pat his head, remembering how worried he'd been when Abby had first forced him to take Jethro home...but it had turned out fine. Tim fed Jethro and rubbed his ears, but his mind wasn't on his pet. He quickly walked back to the desk while Jethro was eating. As he pulled the paraphernalia out, his hands were shaking a little. He clenched them tightly until the shaking eased. He knew he'd be feeling better soon...but before that could happen, he had an unwelcome shock as he examined what he had.

"No, that's not right," he said, still speaking aloud. "I only bought it last week. It was supposed to be enough to last for a month...more than a month...not just a month because I don't need it that much." Giving lie to his words, his hands started shaking again. "It's just because of the case. I've been worried. That's all. Gibbs will be furious if I don't get in tomorrow. I won't be able to think if I can't relax. It's just for now. Once the case is over...I'll stop. I won't need it. It helps me think."

No more self-justification. Tim didn't think anymore. He got out his bag. He remembered the strictures about cleanliness and he always followed them. He was careful. He wasn't a junkie on the street. Carefully, he tied a band around his arm. Then, he filled the syringe...and he barely noticed that it was well beyond the recommended dosage. He only wanted to relax. It wasn't to get high or indulge in psychedelic fantasies. This was just to help him function...and only at extreme times like these.

Tim took a deep breath and let it out slowly as he inserted the needle into his arm and unloaded twice the average 15-mg dose of temazepam into his bloodstream. Carefully, he withdrew the needle, covered the site with a cotton ball, threw the needle into his special trash bag and cleared away the rest of it. He only had enough for one more day.

That should be enough. I won't need it for much longer. Just for now.

He sat back and waited for the telltale signs that he would be feeling better. After about twenty minutes, all his cares, all his tension seemed to fade away and he smiled with relief, sagging down in his writing chair. Jethro padded over and nuzzled his limp hand.

"What is it, Jethro?"

Jethro whined and nudged him again.

"Don't worry. I feel much better now. No walk tonight. How about a movie? I promise we'll go walking tomorrow...whenever I get back. How does that sound?"

Jethro whined once more but stopped when Tim stood and wandered into the bedroom. He kicked off his shoes and lay down without bothering to change his clothes. Jethro hopped up beside him.

Tim grinned. "I shouldn't let you sleep on my bed but...just this once. Now, what should we watch?"

As he flipped through the channels, a part of Tim was still a little worried, but it wouldn't last long. Soon enough, he'd be so completely relaxed that he'd fall asleep and wake up ready for a new day tomorrow. He patted Jethro.

"Good dog," he said and settled down, first checking his alarm clock to make sure that it would wake him up in the morning. He watched television for a few minutes but felt the inevitable lethargy and smiled at Jethro. "Good night, Jethro. See you in the morning." Tim allowed his eyes to close. He knew he couldn't keep doing this but...

One more time couldn't hurt.