Title: Fear Factor
Rating: T
Classification: Angst/General
Spoilers: The Boneyard, obviously.
Disclaimer: I spend money on NCIS – I don't get paid from it.
Summary: A missed scene that I thought should have happened on The Boneyard. Takes place at the end of Act Two.
"Fornell is a bastard." Kate's voice was blunt. "But he's a good bastard."
Tony turned from where he stood next to the Autopsy doors. "What?"
"He's a jerk, Tony. But killing that kid?" Kate gestured in frustration to the body of Agent Gera. "That's like you ending up murdered and saying Gibbs did it."
"That was something I never got used to on the force." Tony turned back to the window as Agent Charles stepped into the elevator with Fornell. "People who'd knowingly set another person up for a crime they'd committed. Especially when they knew them."
"DiNozzo!" Gibbs' voice cut through the window between them. "Are you two waiting for an invitation?"
"Actually, I need Anthony to help me with something," Ducky called as the two agents stepped out into the hall. Tony stopped in his tracks. "Don't worry, it won't take long."
Gibbs simply nodded and headed for the stairwell with Kate. Tony watched the Autopsy doors close again before turning to face the M.E.
"Have a seat, Tony." Ducky's voice was jovial and Tony looked over in suspicion.
"The last time you told me to take a seat in that tone of voice after you asked me for help, you put me in the body cooler."
Ducky chuckled. "Don't worry, this'll do for this time." He patted the top of a freshly cleaned Autopsy table.
"Terrific." Tony walked over and slung himself onto the table. "Okay," he said, swinging his legs in front of him. "What is it you want my help with?"
"Actually, it's something that I want to help you with," Ducky replied. "Do you remember Holly?"
Tony shook his head slowly. "Holly?"
"Holly McInnes. No, I guess you wouldn't. She was my assistant before Gerald Jackson. Left around the same time Stan Burley transferred out." Ducky smiled. "She worked with me for four years, and went on to become a Medical Examiner herself. She works for the FBI now, at Quantico."
The young agent whistled. "Good for her."
"Yes. She was a lovely girl. She had to work hard to get where she did." Ducky smiled fondly. "Harder than most."
Tony stared at him, his interest caught. "Why?"
"She would get overwhelming attacks of nausea, the sudden feeling that she was about to throw up, sometimes four times a day or more." Ducky shook his head. She had to keep a bottle of Gravol on her pocket, although I would rarely actually see her take one."
"What was wrong with her?" Tony asked. Ducky looked him in the eye.
"Generalized anxiety disorder and random panic attacks," the older man said slowly, carefully enunciating each word. Tony blinked.
"And she got into this lien of work?" Tony asked. Ducky chuckled.
"After working for three years as an EMT." Ducky shook his head. "She was actually one of the steadiest people I've ever known under an emergency. I remember one case, when we'd just pulled up to a crime scene and someone started firing at our vehicle. I think Holly was calmer than I was." Tony laughed. "No, the job wouldn't trigger her panic attacks."
Tony rubbed his forehead. "I'm sorry, Ducky. I don't understand why you're telling me this."
"One of the things that would trigger her attacks were when people talked about severed limbs, even jokingly." Their eyes met for a moment. "She did okay with dismembered bodies, but if you talked about an actual limb being lost?" He shook his head and sighed.
"McGee talked to you?" Tony asked quietly. Ducky smiled at him.
"No. Abby. She came down earlier. Said she was worried."
Tony exhaled slowly. "I heard so many dumb stories like that when I was a cop―I didn't think he'd actually believe it."
"Isn't that the purpose of such stories, to scare someone because you got them to believe it?" There was a half-smile on Ducky's face as he said it, but his eyes were stern. Tony took a deep breath.
"Yeah. But I thought he'd just..." Tony broke off and looked up at the older man. "McGee's got panic attacks?"
Ducky shrugged and pulled out a bottle of solution to start sterilizing the instruments. "I don't know."
"You don't know?" Tony bounced off the autopsy table and took a step towards him. "Then why did you..."
Ducky looked up at him. "Do you know for sure that he doesn't?"
"What kind of question..." Tony rubbed his face with his hand. "No, of course he doesn't get panic attacks."
"How do you know?" Tony shot Ducky an exasperated look.
"Because we've been working together for long enough―I think I'd have noticed if he were having panic attacks."
"Ah." Ducky nodded. "Then, tell me, how long do you think it took before I knew about Holly's anxiety?"
Tony snorted. "Second week after you hired her."
"Try three years." Ducky's voice was short. "Tony, a panic attack is very easy to conceal from others, especially when the person having it doesn't know what's going on."
Tony rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, Ducky. How would she not know she was panicking?"
"Because her panic attacks weren't simply feelings of fear. She was nauseous, in her throat and in her stomach. She'd think she was getting sick," Ducky explained. "Now, she'd had a fear of vomiting since she was a child, so those feelings did frighten her. But it was a long time before she learned that the nausea itself was caused by fear."
"How long?" Tony asked, his voice serious.
"Twelve years," the older man replied. The younger man nearly choked. "And by the time I found out, I'd already made several asinine comments that inadvertently triggered her."
"Okay." Tony held up a hand. "So let's say McGee has these panic attacks and doesn't realize it. And most people don't' realize it. I was a cop! Trained to look at people's body language. I'd have seen something!"
"So, if I were to tell you that someone you've worked with has also had panic attacks, you would know immediately who I was talking about."
There was a long silence as Tony ran his coworker's faces and body language through his mind. Finally, he smiled slightly and shook his head.
Ducky stepped forward and put a hand on Tony's shoulder. "Tony, we become close n this job because we have to. Close enough to confide in each other. Close enough to have fun and tease one anther. But you need to make sure that the teasing remains fun."
0
That night, Tony caught up to McGee as the younger man stepped into the elevator on his way home. Quickly he flipped the emergency switch."
"McGee, there's something else I need to tell you." Tony took a deep breath. "About that probie I was telling you about at the E.O.D. range."
McGee rolled his eyes. "Trust me, Tony, you've told me enough already." He reached for the switch, but Tony stepped in front of it.
"That probie who walked into that explosives range was a cocky little jerk. Thought he knew everything. Didn't think he had to take anyone's advice." Tony swallowed. "Didn't think about the consequences his actions could have."
Their eyes met for a long minute. Finally, McGee smiled.
0
At home that night, a pair of eyes looked over at the clock. The nausea had hit while still at NCIS headquarters, two hours earlier. Another hour and it would settle, if everything went according to pattern. Unless the nausea wasn't part of the pattern this time.
A hand clenched the blanket as another wave of nausea hit. The person swallowed. And focused on getting through one more hour.
THE END
A/N: Everything I've said regarding anxiety and panic attacks are true. I have worked in both a police detachment and on a medical unit in a hospital without anybody realizing I had anxiety and panic attacks. Including me.