(Well after a long wait I am submitting this. Hopefully it works for you and I will try to continue on my stumbling way with it.)

"Let me ask you a question Agent Gibbs? Do you think he is at any sort of risk of hurting himself or others?"

The Doctor waited quietly in anticipation while Gibbs considered what he knew of the young man who had collapsed in the men's bathroom earlier that day.

His first thought was that no of course Timothy McGee wasn't a threat to anyone but something had changed during his time in captivity. The man screaming in fury and bracing himself to fight those he had once considered friends bore little resemblance to the quiet, sweet computer specialist who had been a member of his team.

But then again they had barely scratched the surface of what had actually been done to him so how could he pass judgment? McGee had survived. That's all that had mattered in the beginning.

It looked like now the hard yards were to begin.

"I would like to speak with him Doc"

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Timothy McGee stared blankly up at the man he had once thought of as his Boss as Gibbs sat beside his bed. The room was silent but for the argument of opinions going on in Tim's head.

The silence stretched out until even Gibbs grew uncomfortable.

"Want to tell me what's going on McGee?"

Gibbs was straight to the point and Tim shifted his gaze to look him directly in the eyes.

Blue. Like the ball that was green.

Tim blinked as he considered what he should say. How on earth could he explain that for the last few months he had been like a computer program simply waiting for the final destruct command? A search engine gathering information on its environment without really understanding it use?

His body had been healing but his mind had effectively side stepped the entire issue. And if that was what he had had been then just what the hell was he now? Who was he now? Could you confront yourself in a psychotic episode? Was he even sure that it was Timothy McGee who won his sanity in the end?

Tim took a deep breath and tried to ignore the voice he heard in his head as he tried to work out what he should say to explain what he didn't understand himself.

You must always watch the eyes of your opposition in order to be able to assess any threat.

Gibbs was definitely a threat to him, even if Gibbs didn't know it right now as he sat silently beside him, offering him support. Tim knew with a deep certainty that Gibbs would be the one to end him completely, in a way Jarrod with his Machiavellian plans never had.

So simple logic dictated that he should kill him.

Not now when it was obvious but later when he could slip down into the basement of Gibbs' unlocked house, a warm smile on his face and gloves on his hands.

That would make sure that Gibbs wasn't the one to know the truth.

But didn't part of him yearn for his own final breath? To desire death and to succumb to peaceful endless nothingness? The part of him that had welcomed the flames and the rain on that awful night when he took his fate into his own hands only to be disappointed again?
What was left of Timothy McGee should have died that day. It would have been better for all concerned.

Perhaps he should kill himself and be done with it? Here in the hospital provided plenty of opportunity. Then he wouldn't have to remember those who died in his arms. Those that died because of him. Those that died from his hands.

Tim groaned as his head ached with possibilities.

Once Gibbs had been a good friend. He would be hurt by his failure to save Tim. Gibbs had already suffered enough for a good man.
Why was he thinking about killing Gibbs one minute and then worrying about hurting his feelings the next?

What was wrong with him?

Tim was tired and confused and he felt like he could argue all sides of any agreement his mind presented him with. The Truth had dissolved like flesh into a vat of dry cleaning fluids and the banal everyday had warped into a Salvador Dali painting.

Dropping his aching head into his hands Tim rocked like a small child as he searched for a pathway out of his own turbulent questionable sanity.

Once a long time ago a part of him had trusted this silver haired man deeply. If he couldn't trust himself now then perhaps he just had to trust himself as he had been?

Tim finally lifted his head and shrugged in answer to Gibbs question. Where did he start?

Gibbs tried for something specific as he saw the deep confusion in his Agents eyes.

"Why haven't you been eating McGee?"

"I wanted to keep myself weak Gibbs"

Tim was honest and waited for the next question. Question, answer. That was something he could do. He was a good student. Always had been. It was Gibbs's problem what to do with the answer.

Gibbs was surprised and took an instant to digest the answer.

"Why did you want to keep yourself weak Tim?"

"Because I didn't want to hurt anyone"

Again Gibbs sat in silence for a moment

"Do you think you could hurt someone Tim?" Gibbs asked quietly

"I have in the past Gibbs" Tim simply looked at him and Gibbs frowned. It was true that at times McGee's position as a field agent had called for violence but he wasn't sure if that was what McGee was referring to.

Gibbs decided to try a new line of questioning.

"Did you remember something about the time you were held captive? Is that what happened in the men's room?"

Tim flinched and his eyes started to dart around the sparse room as he thought back to the white tiled room splashed in his own bright red blood.

Gibbs instinctively wanted to give McGee some space as his breathing became erratic but they had given McGee plenty of space to heal since he had been found. His injuries had initially limited physical contact and they had all been hesitant to cause him further pain and awkwardness by pushing themselves onto him. Perhaps they had given him too much space? Tim had apparently been slowly drowning in front of them all this time. He needed to know he didn't have to do this on his own anymore.

Gibbs instead leaned forward and heard Tim's breathing grow ragged and desperate, his fists curling into the hospital sheets as his eyes tried to find an escape from the room he was trapped in.

Pain. Lies. Desperate hazel eyes. A man's life reduced to some words on a piece of paper. Burning flesh, screaming….

"It's ok McGee. It's ok to remember. That just means it is in the past. I know it's painful but it gets better. Feel it, grieve for it and then let it go. It's ok to cry"

Tim looked up a Gibbs with dry hard eyes and Gibbs felt uncertain.

"You don't understand at all"

"Then help me understand Tim"

"I can't feel anything anymore."

"What do you mean Tim?" Gibbs was gentle but persistent

"I mean I don't feel anything. I'm numb. Pain to me is simply ….information. I am not happy or sad. I recognize hot or cold because I know it effects how fast I can run not because I like it warmer or cooler.. I have no empathy towards others because I cannot feel anymore. Everything is changed.
You are Gibbs because that's what the shapes you make up are to me. You're almost not a person anymore. You're just an object like that table over there. I can't cry because I can't feel anything."

Gibbs frowned and after a minute dropped his head.

"You think I'm a table? I don't think I fully understand what you mean McGee."

Tim smiled sadly

"I know you don't Gibbs.

Gibbs wondered about how many times he and McGee had stood on the opposite side of the information divide when dealing with computers and part of him yearned to just be able to smack Tim on the back of the head and have him smile sheepishly at him again.

"What else can you tell me McGee?"

"His name was Jarrod."

"You remember?"
Tim just nodded and didn't bother to explain that he had always remembered Jarrod. How could he forget?

"I will tell you everything about him. "

"Good. I want to make sure he never does this again. Do you know what he wanted from you?"

"He wanted to turn me into a tool that he could use. "

"Use for what?" Gibbs tried to smoother his deep anger at the idea of one of his people being used and allow Tim to continue with his strange halting answers.

"Whatever he wanted. I wasn't the only one. There were others before me. The methods had been perfected already. He considered me his favorite. He chose me from a short list. He…..He deconstructed me. Took away who I was and left only what he could use."

"What did he take away Tim?"

"Everything" Tim whispered, his eyes wide "there's almost nothing left"

Gibbs squeezed his young agent hand and blinked to ease his aching eyes before he continued.

"Will you get help Tim? I mean are you willing to really try and get yourself better instead of just telling the doctors what they need to hear? Start eating again?"

Tim cocked his head and stared over Gibbs shoulder at something in middle distance.

"I owe him that much.."

"Owe who Tim?"

Tim shifted his glance back to Gibbs face again

"I won't hurt you Gibbs. I want you know that. I will get help. I want to come back to the team. The memories of the team are almost all I have left of me."

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Gibbs felt deeply unsettled as he stepped into the elevator. The strange conversation had continued on for over an hour although there were times when Gibbs couldn't shake the feeling he was talking to someone else rather than to McGee.

But what worried him most was not the glimpse into how damaged Timothy McGee really was but that Tim had lied to him.

Gibbs just didn't know what about.

I won't hurt you Gibbs…