Chapter 5

Two days later...

"...and I must confess that I've always wondered if the Chinese really thought that a wall, a large one to be sure, but still only a wall, with two ends, would really keep out invaders. I saw it in my younger days. It is quite an amazing sight...but contrary to popular belief, it is not visible from space. Astronauts have seen it with telescopes and with binoculars, but not with their unaided eye. That is a myth. Even Chinese astronauts have admitted that they could not see it, not even from low-earth orbit."

Tim smiled...sort of. He was still on the ventilator as his lung continued to heal. The chest tube would remain in place for at least five days more, but they were hoping to take out the endotracheal ventilator in another day or two. He was also still on some heavy-duty painkillers which made him a little loopy. Then, there were the IVs, the heart monitor...all the accouterments which went along with having been a critically-injured patient.

He lay back for a few seconds and then picked up the notepad Ducky had brought him. He wrote a few words and then handed it to Ducky.

How long is it?

"Didn't I say?" Ducky asked.

Tim shook his head.

"My apologies. The full length of the wall is over 5000 miles, but that includes constructed walls, as well as natural obstructions such as hills. Much of the original wall is in a state of considerable disrepair. They have discovered new parts of it as recently as a few years ago. Many stretches have crumbled or are the targets of graffiti. It is only in the tourist areas that the wall looks much as it must have centuries ago."

Tim smiled briefly and then lay back and stared at the ceiling. It was clear that, if he'd had any control over his breathing, he would have sighed. Ducky patted his shoulder.

"Jethro managed to track down your parents. They were horrified and are trying to get an early flight back."

Tim looked at Ducky and started to shake his head.

"Before you attempt to protest, Timothy, let me remind you that they are your parents and nothing anyone could have said would have kept them from coming."

Tim grimaced and rubbed gently at the area around the chest tube. Then, he picked up the notepad again and wrote.

Seems so stupid, doesn't it?

"What?"

Tim wrote again.

All this...just because some guys robbed a store. I wasn't even trying to stop them.

"I know. It seems ridiculous that it could happen as it did...but I must confess that I'm very grateful you are here, even in this state."

Tim looked away for a few seconds and Ducky wondered if he should be worried, if perhaps he had said something wrong, but then, Tim picked up the pen and notepad once more. He wasn't looking at Ducky as he wrote. It was more than usual. Tim had found it a bit frustrating to write in order to communicate and short, terse sentences worked better. After a few silent minutes, Tim looked up and Ducky was surprised to see tears in his eyes, although he was smiling, albeit slightly hindered by the tube coming out of his mouth.

I'm so glad you were there with me, Ducky. I thought for sure I was going to die back there, and hearing you talk to me kept me from being as afraid. I can't ever thank you enough for staying with me, for refusing to leave, for doing what you could to help me. Thank you.

Ducky squeezed Tim's shoulder.

"Oh, there is no need for thanks, Timothy. I only wish I could have done more to help you. Telling you stories seems like a poor substitute for the medical aid you so desperately needed."

Tim shook his head...and then wrote more.

No, Ducky. You could never know how much it meant to hear you.

Ducky felt tears in his own eyes.

"Perhaps not...but I can see that my words meant more to you than I thought."

Tim shook his head and wrote one short sentence.

It wasn't the words.

Ducky watched as Tim settled down on the bed once more, clearly tired out by the limited conversation. Tim closed his eyes and slowly eased back into the sleep that would bring him closer to the healing he needed. Only then did Ducky allow himself one small luxury. He gently tussled Tim's hair and then moved it off his forehead.

"Perhaps it was what we both needed, lad," Ducky said softly.

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

Two days later...

Tim finally passed his spontaneous breathing test and the doctors decided it was time to take him off the ventilator. The McGees arrived the same day Tim was shifted to independent breathing. He was still receiving assistance in his respiration, but it allowed him to breathe at his own rate.

Ducky had been there at the beginning, but after Sam and Naomi arrived, he had excused himself to give the McGee family time alone. His other friends and colleagues had come and gone during visiting hours, but Ducky had been an almost-constant presence that Tim had appreciated...and found that he missed, particularly at night when he was alone. Granted, he was sleeping a lot, but as the sedation had been reduced and his sleep became more natural, Tim found that he had nightmares of those horrible moments on the floor of the subway car...only without Ducky. Instead, he was just alone there in a silent world filled with pain.

It was a long night, punctuated by periods of sleeping and waking. In fact, Tim was relieved when morning finally arrived and visiting hours began again. His parents would come eventually, but he knew they were still jetlagged from their quick flight to DC. He still felt bad about interrupting their vacation.

So he wasn't sure about when they would come...and everyone else would be at work. Tim resigned himself to hours of boredom, with nothing to distract him from his scratchy throat, from the painful breathing...from the seemingly-unending time stretching out in front of him. He might have to give in and watch some mindless drivel on the TV.

There was a soft knock on the door.

"Come in," Tim croaked and then winced. Raising his voice hurt in more ways than one right now. He grabbed an ice chip and began sucking on it as the door opened.

"Good morning, Timothy."

"Ducky," Tim rasped and smiled. "Hi."

"Hello. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."

Tim laughed but then winced.

"Not...at all. Come on in."

"Thank you." Ducky walked over and sat down beside the bed.

"I thought you'd be at work," Tim whispered.

"Not yet, I'm afraid. They've insisted that I take some time off to deal with the trauma. Not that I faced nearly the problems you did."

"It must have been hard for you," Tim said. "I just...had to lay there...but you..."

Ducky waved that away.

"No, lad. I won't deny that it was hard to watch, but my troubles are tolerable."

Tim wasn't sure what to say. He felt strangely-calmed by Ducky's presence, but he didn't know how to tell him that.

"Ducky?"

"Yes, Timothy?"

"Where did you go?"

"Go?"

"When...on the...subway in London. I...thought you'd remembered."

"I did, but I didn't realize you heard me say that I had."

"I don't...really know when it was."

"No matter. It was a typical tourist destination. Piccadilly Circus. I believe we went to the Criterion Theatre...only don't ask me what play we saw. I dare say that it wasn't to my tastes at the time."

Tim smiled.

"Ducky?"

"Yes, lad?"

"Thank you." Tim regretted that his voice was so raspy right now. It wasn't much better than when he had been restricted to written communication.

"You've already thanked me once, Timothy. I promise. It's not necessary."

Tim sat up and shook his head. "No...you said that before. It's not true. Thank you...so..." He was embarrassed to find that he was about to cry. "...so...much. All last night...every time...I got to sleep...I dreamed of...of being back there." Tim took a quick breath and let it out slowly. "Only you weren't...there with me. I was...all alone. I couldn't...couldn't have done it alone. Thank you, Ducky."

Ducky leaned over and hugged Tim just barely shy of too tightly.

"Oh, Timothy. I would never have left you alone there...to face that by yourself."

"I know. Still...thank you so much."

"Anytime, Timothy. Anytime at all."

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

One month later...

Tim knew he hadn't been ready to go back to work up to this point, but that didn't mean he wasn't impatient to go back to work. He was home. Tomorrow would be his first chance to get back to NCIS...desk duty only, but that was okay. He wouldn't be sitting around his apartment, bored out of his mind.

As for tonight...

There was a knock on the door. Tim smiled because he knew who it would be. He walked over and looked through the peephole.

Yep.

He opened the door.

"Ducky, I told you. You don't have to keep cooking for me now. I'm feeling much better."

Ducky came inside, laden with bags.

"Nevertheless, I'd be remiss to discontinue until you return to NCIS."

"I'm going back tomorrow."

"Then, you have not yet returned."

Tim laughed, felt a slight twinge and rubbed at his chest. Ducky didn't miss the movement.

"Still some pain?"

"A little. The doctor said it takes time for lungs to heal completely. He also said that I'll never be allowed to go scuba diving. Good thing that wasn't on my list of things to do."

"Yes, I suppose so."

Ducky quickly opened his bags, pulling out various dishes. Then, he made Tim sit while he served. Tim didn't protest. He liked the company, and Ducky had not yet repeated a single tale. Tonight, however, they ate in companionable silence...until the meal was almost complete.

"Timothy, I've been meaning to ask you a question."

"What?"

"I wanted to know what you meant when you wrote that it wasn't the words I said that were important."

"Oh..." Tim looked down at his plate. Things that had been easy to say when he was seriously injured and partially drugged were harder when he felt normal. "It...It was just from a quote my dad said once."

"Really? I'm intrigued. What is it?"

Tim flushed a little and then looked at Ducky. "It's by Henry David Thoreau. 'The language of friendship is not words but meanings.'"

Ducky looked at his own plate.

"Timothy...I'm...I feel most privileged that you would consider me a friend."

Tim smiled. "I feel privileged to have you as a friend...and I never knew how right Thoreau was until that night on the train."

"Thank you, Timothy."

"For what?"

Ducky looked up and smiled. "For understanding."

Tim laughed a little. "I don't understand."

"For understanding what my words truly meant beyond the stories I was telling."

That was all. No words were needed.

FINIS!