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It was hard to make someone proud when they couldn't see you. Not impossible, but hard.
Tim had initially tried to communicate with his family by putting his computer to good use, but that had just led to Sarah screaming and dumping her (salted) potato chips on it.
Tim hadn't been in it at the time, but the computer could have been damaged by the grease, so he didn't try that again.
If he was going to make his father proud, he would need something impressive, he knew. Something really impressive and preferably at least somewhat physical in nature.
. . . That last one could prove difficult, all things considered.
He'd heard that ghosts could shape shift, but he wasn't having much luck with it, so there went his plan to give himself huge muscles.
It was hard to do a lot of stuff actually, and the more discouraged he got about impressing his dad, the harder it got to do anything.
Tim retreated glumly to his computer. It wouldn't give him answers, but at least it was something productive to do with his time.
Tim's family went on vacation. For lack of anything better to do, Tim went with them.
In hindsight, he really should have checked their tickets.
They were headed to an island. There would be salt water everywhere.
If Tim had realized, he would have refused to get off the plane. Unfortunately, he'd stowed away in his sister's luggage bag, a decision he regretted for more than one reason.
Now they were all at the beach, and he was stuck at the hotel. Typical. Just typical. He could never catch a break, could he?
"Are you a ghost?"
Tim jumped backwards and spun around. "No. Absolutely not."
The boy who'd made the comment grinned broadly. "You are, aren't you?"
"No, I'm not!"
"Your elbow's sticking through room 310's door," the boy pointed out.
Tim checked. It was.
This was probably the point where he should run.
The other kid was practically bouncing. "I've been here for years now, and I've never met another ghost kid. What's your name? How'd you die? You're staying here, right? What am I saying, of course you're staying. I can show you all the best places to get food, don't worry. I know this place like the back of my hand."
Tim hadn't felt hungry since he died, but at the mention of food, something in him ached with something very like it. "We can eat?"
"Can we eat, he says." The kid rubbed his hands together. "Allow me to introduce you to the wonders of room service trays, my friend. People leave the best stuff outside of their rooms. You've got to be careful what you pick, of course, but at this point I've pretty much memorized what's safe."
Tim hesitated. His family could come back while he was gone.
"Oh, come on," the kid pleaded. "You can't tell me you don't want to. You're wasting away!"
"Fine," he relented.
The kid's answering grin almost made him regret that. "Excellent. Well, my new best friend, come with me. I'll introduce you to the wonders of five star dumpster diving. I'm Tony, by the way. Tony DiNozzo."
Tim probably should have volunteered his name at that point, but all he could think about was how his death had been plastered all over the news. If he told Tony his name, the other ghost might recognize it, and he got a weird feeling in his stomach when he considered that.
"How'd you end up here?" he asked instead.
There was a flash in the other kid's eyes like he'd caught the deflection, but he started chattering brightly anyway like he respected Tim's right to privacy.
(Looking back in later years, Tim was pretty sure Tony didn't know what the right to privacy meant and figured that Tony had just been smart enough to know pushing wouldn't get him anywhere.
Or maybe he was lonely enough he didn't want to risk it, a small voice in his head said, but Tim pushed that thought away pretty quickly. Tony didn't need anyone or anything, especially not Tim.)
The food was good, Tim had to admit. And it was nice talking to someone who understood.
It was less nice when Tony followed him back to his family's room and tried to steal Admiral McGee's wallet so he could check for Tim's last name.
"Tony, no!" Tim hissed.
Tony looked at him innocently. "What? I'm just looking. I won't steal anything, pinky swear."
Yeah, like that was reassuring.
Tony started rifling through it. Tim grabbed for it. Tony held it over his head, just out of reach.
The door creaked open. "What in the world," his mom breathed out.
"What?" the admiral said irritably before turning to see his wallet hovering in midair.
He grabbed Mom's wrist and started backing out into the hall. "Sarah, don't come in," he ordered. "I'll get management."
"Oops," Tony breathed.
"Oops?" Tim demanded. "They're going to track us down and salt us!"
Tony waved it off. "Nah. They've been ignoring accounts of a minor haunting for years. No one got hurt, so it's cheaper for them to just give your parents a free night's stay or something instead of calling in hunters. Do you know how many ghost hunters there are out here? None. They'd have to import some from the mainland."
That made Tim feel slightly better. Slightly.
"You can't just go around doing stuff like that!"
"Sorry." Tony hung his head.
A moment later, he slowly peeked back up at Tim. "So I saw that your last name begins with 'Mc'."
Tim threw the room service menu at his head. It sailed right through it and banged against the wall.
Tony just grinned. "So what is it? McCormick? McDonald?"
"None of the above." Tim stalked through the nearest wall.
"Bad idea," Tony advised even as he followed him. "You never know when someone might be changing. McHardy? McGraham? McSkywalker?"
"Now you're just making names up," he grumbled.
"Yep," Tony admitted cheerfully. "McRumplestiltskin? McGhost?" He paused. "Huh. I like that one."
"No."
"McBond? McHungry? McDead?"
"McAngry?" Tim suggested.
Tony paused to consider that one. "Nah, doesn't suit you. McGoo? McGlare? McStalking? . . . "
"What are you doing?"
"I'm working on my computer."
"McGeek," Tony breathed.
Tim sighed. "Go away, Tony."
Tony ignored him as per usual. "So, I've been wondering. Why are you here?"
"My family's here."
"They don't know you are," Tony pointed out.
"Well, why are you here?" Tim said defensively.
Tony leaned back against the wall casually. "My dad left me here. I got sick. He came back, buried me in the garden, and then left. But he's coming back," Tony added quickly. "And I want to be here when he does."
"Shouldn't you be watching the garden, then?"
Tony shrugged. "I tried that for a few years. I got bored."
Years?
"Anyway, my dad loves this hotel. I'm sure when he comes back he'll be here for a few days. Plenty of time for me to see him."
Tim was reminded of the time he'd been in the school talent show. Everything had gone horribly wrong, including the fact that he'd insisted, right up until he was actually on stage, that his dad would be there.
He didn't think that comment would be appreciated though, so he said instead, "Hey, wanna see something cool?"
Tony flashed him a grin like he was having the time of his life and said, "Is it a line of code?"
"No."
"Does it involve explosions?"
" . . . No."
"Shame. Show me anyway."
Tony bounced into the hotel room the same as he had every other morning. His grin slowly faded though, when he saw the suitcases being packed up.
And, more importantly, when he caught Tim slipping a piece of his disassembled computer into the luggage.
"You're leaving?"
Sarah probably could have dissected the look on Tony's face, but there had been a reason Tim had struggled socially at school. He opted to ignore it.
"Keep your voice down," he hissed.
"It's not like they can hear us. Why are you leaving? Is it about the name thing? Because - "
Tim shook his head. "They're my family, Tony."
Tony stared at him for a long moment. "Right. Right." His megawatt smile slid back into place. "Sorry, should have thought that through a little bit sooner."
Tim was relieved he was taking it so well. "Yeah. Well."
"Think you'll be back next summer?"
Tim shook his head. "I doubt it. It's a miracle they're not suing the hotel."
"Most of the guests like the element of danger," Tony grumbled.
"My dad's not most people."
"I've noticed."
His parents were grabbing their bags. Sarah was already out the door.
Tim hesitated. "Here." He gathered up his will enough to pick up the complimentary pen and scribble down his email address on the matching pad of paper. "If you can get your hands on a computer . . . "
Tony's grin grew. "I'm a DiNozzo. We can do anything."
"Right. Well. Bye, Tony." Tim walked, somewhat reluctantly, towards the door.
"Hey, McSecret!"
Tim turned around to see Tony looking unexpectedly serious. "Be safe."
Tim nodded. "Yeah. You too."
He slid through the door.
"And eat something, you're as frail as my great-grandmother!" Tony hollered.
"Am not!" Tim yelled back.
A woman exiting her hotel room looked around in confusion. Tim winced and hurried past. His family was already in the elevator.
It was a good thing Sarah couldn't hear that reply, he decided. 'Am not' didn't exactly make for much of a comeback. She would never have let him live that down.
Well. As much as he could live anything down these days.
Figures of speech got a lot more complicated once you were dead, Tim decided.
His mother's hand went right through him so that she could press the button for the ground floor.
Most things got more complicated once you were dead, he corrected. But some of them, like making his dad proud, were worth it.
Right?