Chapter 10
Gibbs tried to stay relaxed, sipping a coffee as he waited at the terminal. He’d thrown a few changes of clothes in an overnight bag. The other him dressed a little more formally than he did, his tastes were a bit more expensive, but the stuff looked and felt comfortable enough. He left a note for Kelli and went into the outbox of his email program, sending her an email as well. He was quite proud of himself for thinking of that. She might wonder what the emergency was, but he didn’t much care.
Gibbs watched the people, wondering if he might see someone he knew. As he waited for McGee to arrive, he kept hoping he wasn’t being stood up.
Shaking his head at this foolhardy decision, Timothy walked through the airport terminal, not really knowing what he was heading towards. Looking around, he was unsure of who he should be searching for, though he’d hope to somehow spot the man that went with the voice on the phone.
McGee walked almost right in front of Gibbs. He would have recognized this Tim, even though there were quite a few differences as well. The hair was a little longer than it had been at NCIS, the body a little more rounded, the face looked a little younger, less hardened. “Tim,” he said, standing and extending a hand. “Gibbs.”
Looking at the hand almost contemptuously, Tim looked up and regarded the man who’d made such a cryptic phone call. “Mr. Gibbs. Care to tell me what I’m doing here?”
“Like I said, need your help. I woke up here.” He pulled out his wallet and showed a picture of a younger man who looked like him and a girl, the date on the picture a week ago. “Instead of him. In my life, I’m a federal agent, you’re one of my agents at an agency called NCIS; Naval Criminal Investigative Service. Know it sounds crazy, but tell me how I changed that much in such a short time. Why I remember a different world.”
“You mean, other than the fact you could be suffering from a psychotic break and I came here on a fool’s errand, possibly putting my life in danger?” Tim knew the question was snippy and a little bitter, but that was a possibility he greatly considered. Only he wasn’t getting a dangerous vibe from the man, insane or not.
“You think that is the case?” Gibbs asked quietly. He handed the man his double’s cell phone. “Hit dial on the number that says Abby. She’ll tell you things she has no business knowing. True things.” At least he hoped she would. He sent out a silent prayer that the other him had fully charged this cell phone.
Pushing the cell phone back towards the stranger, Tim asked, “How can I trust a random woman on a cell phone any more than you, Mr. Gibbs? If what you say is true, then tell me something you have no reason to know, something that only a person close to me would know.” And heaven knows, there weren’t too many who were.
Gibbs regarded the young man in front of him for long moments, hoping he was right about this Tim as well. “At night, when no one is looking and no one knows, you put on jazz records and write on a manual typewriter. You always wanted to be a novelist, wanted to write thrillers. And you’re damned good, McGee.” He paused, swallowing.
“You’re scared of heights. You play an online MMRPOG where you’re an Elf Lord. When you were sixteen, you were given a brand new car by your parents and got into an accident with it on your birthday. You still don’t remember what happened that day.”
Working on instinct now, pulling impressions from his time with McGee, he tried to paint a picture. “Always been drawn to law, but you were never sure why. At some point, you made a choice between law enforcement and computers. You’re drawn to bad girls. You always wanted an older brother and to belong in your peer group. You’re a lefty but only those who have seen you write or draw a gun know that. You lack confidence but you have guts and good instincts.”
Done for now, he regarded McGee with a level stare.
“What in the hell…?” Turning away, McGee began to pace along in front of the tall window that covered a wall of the airport. How in the hell did this stranger know about his writing and about Elf Lord?! Granted some of the stuff didn’t apply to him. But the rest…
“Not taking shots in the dark here, Tim,” Gibbs said, coming up behind the man and squeezing his shoulder gently.
“God, there’s no way you could know that,” he replied as he shrugged off the touch, turning towards the stranger. “How do you know all that?”
“Because you and my McGee are related somehow. Just like I look like him, but I’m not him,” Gibbs said, showing McGee the license. “You won’t understand. I don’t either, but Abby knows and can help me get home.”
He regarded McGee with a level stare. “I need your help, Tim. You can tell I’m not him. He’s years younger than me. I’m not from this place. I’m from another place, somewhat like this one.”
“Well, time hasn’t altered all that much, maybe, what five years, no more than fifteen. Could be time travel… but you would have remembered jumping forward in the future. And other than a few facts, the rest about me is wrong. So that crosses out time travel.” Tim’s brain worked rapidly at the problem, trying to find a viable solution. “Perhaps cross-dimensional travel… but how is that possible?” he asked to no one in particular. Looking up, he added, “How can I possibly help you?”
“I’m not an NCIS Special Agent here, Tim. I run a company. A company I don’t remember. I have one ex-wife, not three and my first wife died and we never married. My daughter never existed. Not time travel. Something much…more.”
Gibbs gave the man a thin smile, answering his question. “Your mind. You’re brilliant. I need your scientific mind on this, Tim. I want to go home…”
“And you think this… Abby is going to be able to do that?”
“Don’t know,” Gibbs admitted. “Think you’re both pieces of the puzzle. And in my world you two work really well together.” He stared into Tim’s eyes, hoping he was convincing.
“And where is this Abby now?” Against his better judgment, Tim was drawn to this stranger, believed him despite his outrageous claims.
“New Orleans. Have a ticket for you, if you’re willing to go. What have you got to lose, Tim?”
“My life? My sanity?” Tim was sorry for his caustic attitude. But honestly, what could the other man expect? Sighing, he gave himself one more moment to change his mind, before he put his life into fate’s hands.
“The risk of not unraveling a mystery,” Gibbs said. He slipped out a business card. “Call your people and have them run traces.” He didn’t mention that L.J. wasn’t him, though he knew Tim knew that. “And I’m a federal agent, Tim. Before that, I was an MP in the Marines.” And in between those, a sniper, but Gibbs wouldn’t mention that.
Taking the card from the man, he didn’t tell the man he already had once that initial call from Gibbs had come through. “When does the plane leave?”
“Forty minutes. You packed a bag or we need to pick you up some stuff when we get there?” Gibbs replied. “What does Sarah do here?”
Tim gestured to the bag slung over his shoulder. “I always have a bag packed. Get called out on government work all the time. My sister, Sarah? She’s in charge of rare books in the Library of Congress.” In truth, he never really paid attention to his sister when she went on and on about her job, so he couldn’t describe it to the man. His mind was always somewhere else, solving some other equation. His sister knew. She understood, at least Tim hoped she did.
Gibbs smiled slightly. “Good. Glad she’s doing okay here. You have anything published here? Your name over there is Thom E. Gemcity, one book released, second you’re finishing writing now. Ran into some writer’s block.” Gibbs motioned to the security area. “Let’s get your ticket and go to the gate.”
Walking alongside of him, Tim considered his answer. “No, I’m not a published fiction writer. I’m published under mathematics. But not fiction. That was always kinda my hobby, but I never indulged.”
“You should. You’re good. Read your book, his book.” Gibbs shrugged. “Hard to think of you as not him, though I see it. Different body language, slightly different features.” Gibbs got McGee’s ticket organized and waited until they were through security to continue the conversation.
“You have a confidence that is still growing in him.”
All of this was almost too much for Tim’s advanced brain to process, but in order to do so, he had to accept some norms. One of which was the existence of a self that wasn’t him, a self that looked and sometimes acted like him, but who apparently made many different decisions about his life. “Perhaps we are not so similar, your McGee and I.”
“Probably no more similar than the other Gibbs and I am. Apparently he goes by L.J. or Jet and I go by Jethro.” From the pictures in the den at the house, Gibbs assumed the other man had been a Marine as well, but they had different lines of work now.
“Jethro? Really?” Tim was momentarily shocked at that. The name didn’t fit the gruff stranger. Though, in reality, Tim couldn’t think of a name that would work any better. “What does the “L” stand for?”
“Leroy,” Gibbs said, remaining impassive. “Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Most people call me Gibbs.”
“Gibbs works. You don’t really seem like Leroy Jethro, though more Jethro than Leroy I guess.” Looking at his ticket, McGee found the terminal they needed and proceeded to sit down to wait for their flight.
Gibbs hitched up a shoulder, giving the other man a faint smile. “You go by Tim or what?”
“What,” he tried to joke. “Tim works, or Timothy is fine too.”
“Buy ya a coffee, What?” Gibbs asked with a smirk.
Giving the older man a half smile, Tim nodded. “Sure, that would be great.”
Gibbs paid for their two coffees and then sat down at the gate. “First class tickets,” he remarked. “You want to talk, or you interested in getting a book or something?” They’d board soon, but the flight was at least a couple of hours.
At first, Tim faltered, not knowing what he wanted to do. In truth, he was drastically curious about everything the man had said. But the rational part of his brain continued to deny what he had been told. “Tell me more…about where you come from?”
Gibbs nodded, sipping his coffee and finding an out of the way place for them to sit down where they wouldn’t be easily overheard. “Don’t know what the fundamental differences are here, if any.” There could have been different wars fought, different presidents and leaders elected. Different lives, and he had no idea. He decided to start with himself.
“I was born in a town called Stillwater, in Pennsylvania. Joined the Marine Corps after high school, served in Desert Storm.” He paused when Tim looked confused.
“Desert Storm?” Tim asked, prompting him to explain further.
“Yeah…you…?” Gibbs arched a brow, leaning in close, whispering now. “You didn’t fight Desert Storm here? War in the Middle East, with Iraq. Was there a 9/11 attack? September eleventh?”
“September eleventh? What are you talking about? We haven’t fought in any battles since…since World War II. We’ve been in the Cold War with Russia and her allies for decades.” Tim was even more worried now, if that was possible, that the man who was taking him to New Orleans was truly insane.
Gibbs exhaled slowly, nodding. “Okay, looks like we have a different history then. We’ll talk about it at length when we’re in a quieter place.” He had to focus on himself then. “I was in the military, in the Marine Corps for fifteen years. I retired after I…” He paused. This was so damned hard to talk about. It should have been easier telling a stranger but that stranger wore McGee’s face. “My family passed away. I joined NIS, which became NCIS"Naval Criminal Investigative Service. We investigate crimes against Navy and Marine personnel and their dependants. I’m a senior investigator, I man a team of three other investigators.”
Tim didn’t know much about the federal agencies that seemed to run the country. He generally kept his head down and his nose in a computer program until some government agency with some odd acronym would need his help. “You said that you know this Abby we’re going to see. How? What importance does she have in all of this?”
“Don’t know,” he admitted. “I work with a girl named Abby Sciuto. She’s the forensic specialist, a good friend.” He didn’t know how to explain the relationship between himself and Abbs. It was too flirtatious to be explained away as father/daughter, too protective to be just friends, not romantic, despite their heavy flirtation.
“She’s brilliant,” he said instead, focusing on Abby’s intelligence. “And she worries about me. When I found myself here, I looked all of you up, my team members, the people I work closely with, my family. Most of them are dead or unable to be found.” Gibbs paused, drinking his coffee. He wasn’t used to, or comfortable with, speaking this much.
“Found Abby. She’s a psychic here. She knew I was from someplace else, invited me to come down. Sounds like the real deal.”
Swirling his coffee, Tim asked, “How do you know she wasn’t the one who brought you here?”
“Don’t,” he said with a shrug. “Guess you and me, we’re gonna find out.” Gibbs was fascinated with the idea that 9/11 hadn’t happened. And no Vietnam…all those American lives saved. “What does your father do?”
“My father? He passed away.”
Gibbs cocked his head, nodding. Sounded like the McGees had a fairly different life. “The other Tim"my Tim"“ he said, clarifying, “was the son of a career Naval officer. Don’t think his mother worked at all.” Gibbs paused. “Just you and Sarah?”
“Yeah. Dad was in the Navy for about five years. There was another, a girl, who died when she was eight. I think I was four or five at the time. Mom had named her Ziva; some name she read in a romance novel, probably. Some maniac came on the base with a gun. His wife had been cheating on him with a Navy Seal. Mom had taken Ziva and me to the park, Sarah was in the stroller. Ricochet went right into the carriage, passing over Sarah’s head and hitting Ziva. Mom was never Mom after that.” Tim froze then, realizing how much he’d just told this complete stranger.
Gibbs closed his eyes, shaking his head. “Ah, hell, Tim…. Hell…” This one hit him particularly hard. Ziva had been related to Tim in this place…and she’d died.
Gibbs pulled in a deep breath, nodding. Tony and Ziva were dead, Tim was the only one left of his team here. The fact that they weren’t his team here didn’t matter, they were still his.
“Damned shame. I put dirtbags like that away… It’s what I do.” Gibbs paused, knowing the man was astute enough to want more. “My core team consisted of three investigators. Tony DiNozzo, Tim McGee and…Ziva David. Tony in this place died of anthrax poisoning. And Ziva…” Gibbs shrugged, knowing his eyes were extra bright, knowing the emotion had to be swimming in them.
“What do you mean? Are you telling me that somewhere, wherever it is that you’re from, Ziva is still alive? That she hadn’t been killed by that bullet?” Tim sat up straight then, his coffee forgotten as he’d tried to process what the man was telling him.
He could still remember his older sister, tanned dark from the summers by the lake. She would laugh and bring him flowers, even though he pretended to hate them ‘cause he was a boy. But for four years, she had been his. Then she was gone. And he’d never been able to understand why.
People were starting to look. Gibbs slung an arm around Tim’s shoulder. “Come on, son,” he said gently. “Let’s go to the gate.” There would be more privacy there. Gibbs grabbed both of their bags in his free hand, leading Tim gently but firmly to a gate across from theirs, one that was abandoned.
“Ziva isn’t your sister in my world. She’s an Israeli national, the daughter of the director of Mossad. But yeah…she’s alive, Tim. And if we can figure it out, you can come back with me and see her for yourself.”
“She’s Israeli? Mossad? How can that…” But Tim knew. Nothing was the same between the two places. Without thinking about it, almost like it was natural to be led by this man, being called “son” by him, Tim walked towards the gate.
“Damned if I know,” Gibbs said quietly. “Why are most of you gone? Only Tony was in law enforcement… Why are you a special agent at home and…what the hell do you do here, Tim?” He pulled in a breath. “Abby is the key. My gut is telling me that. Let’s get down there, figure things out as we go.”
“I work in a think tank funded by the government. I work out puzzles, riddles, whatever they need me to. Sometimes I design new technology, experimental for the D.O.D.” Nodding his head, Tim stood there shaking, knowing he’d be haunted for the rest of his life by what this man had told him. Ziva was alive. She hadn’t been killed by a madman’s bullet. Hearing the boarding call, he turned to Gibbs. “If this is a joke, some sick way of messing with me, I will kill you. I’ll do whatever I have to, to make sure you don’t do this to someone else. But if it isn’t…”
Gibbs waited until they were seated in first class and then turned to McGee. “Tim, look me in the eyes and trust your gut. I am not lying to you. I wouldn’t lie about something like that. It isn’t a lie. I work beside Ziva every day… Tim, I don’t know if it is the same Ziva you know, but I suspect it is.”
“What...” he started, hesitantly, vulnerability slipping out. “What is she like?”
Gibbs reached over, squeezing Tim’s shoulder gently. “Passion, and fire, and…” He struggled for words to describe her. “She’s smart but guarded, she has great instincts but a hair trigger temper, sometimes she reminds me of a wild horse running free. She came to me a Mossad operative but she’s turned into a hell of an investigator. She’s got long, dark curly hair and deep brown eyes, thin but muscular, very exotic looking. She takes no prisoners in any aspect of her life and she can be one of the boys.”
Gibbs gave Tim a gentle smile. “What do you want to know specifically?”
“Is she happy? Is her life…good?” There was so much he wanted to ask about her, but he just couldn’t form the words.
That was a complex question. “Her life is fairly good. She likes what she’s doing with NCIS, but her family ties to Mossad are…thorny.” That was the best way to put it. “Think she’s seeing a guy, a fellow operative. She seems happy.” At times. “But I don’t think she’s found what she needs from life yet, Tim.”
Nodding his head, Tim tried to absorb all the information Gibbs had given him. It was almost too much to process. Luckily, at that moment, the plane was revving her engines and the stewardesses were reviewing the emergency procedures.
Gibbs stayed quiet, leaning close to Tim. When they’d taken off, he reached over, patting the other man’s knee. “She’s a hell of a woman, Tim, and if I have the chance, you’ll get to see her again.”
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