Title: Living the Nightmare
Pairing: None.
Rating: T
Genre: Angst, Casefile (sort of), Drama, a hint of Supernatural
Cat: Gen
Spoilers: Alludes to some season 10 happenings, but very vague ones. Skip the Vance part if you don't want to read them. :)
Warnings: None.
Summary: It is one thing to live the dream, but entirely another to live a nightmare.
Author's Note: Written for dewgoddess for the White Elephant Exchange on NFA, using her 3rd prompt: "Team!fic with a slightly supernatural twist. After a rough case, everyone on the team has bizarre dreams in which they must confront and defeat their own perceived weaknesses. Must feature all the main characters including Jimmy and, depending on the time frame, Vance or Jenny." I really hope it works with the prompt, but I took some creative liberties, so I'm really not sure. I just hope she likes it. And just a warning, the subject matter may be difficult to read, but Hannah wanted a happy ending, so you just have to trust me. :)
"Go home. Get some sleep."
Tony, Ziva and McGee moved quietly and sluggishly at their desks, packing their things away into bags and heading for the elevator as a group. None of them said anything; it didn't feel right to say anything right now. It had been a long day – week, really. None of them were sure what to do with themselves now this case was over. Going out for drinks seemed . . . inappropriate, unless they were going to drink away their sorrows. That seemed more appropriate.
Gibbs sat back down at his desk, staring at a photo of a little girl. He only looked up when he felt a presence, and saw Vance standing there.
"You can't save 'em all, Gibbs," he said, his voice sounding as grave as Gibbs felt.
Gibbs looked back down at the photo in his hands, waiting a few moments before saying, "It's my job to keep people safe." He put the photo back into a file folder, knowing he didn't have to look at it to remember the 7-year-old's face – big brown eyes, dark brown hair in curls. He knew he wouldn't be the only one affected by the case, and he planned on checking on his team once they got some sleep.
If they could sleep.
Gibbs had a few stops to make before he left the building, though. Vance had returned to his office and the team had left for the night, but he needed to check on Abby . . . and stop by autopsy. He knew Ducky had dealt with children before, but it didn't get any easier over time, and he really wasn't sure how Palmer would handle it. He wasn't the closest to Ducky's assistant, but the young man had become a part of his family, and he wasn't about to leave him behind right now.
As Gibbs rounded the corner to Abby's lab, the lack of music made him frown, but he knew she would be upset. She was a compassionate person, and these types of cases always hit her hard. He stopped in the doorway of her lab, waiting for her to notice he was there. He didn't have to wait long, as Abby sat up straight and slowly turned around.
"Hi, Gibbs." Her voice was timid, and one look at her face told Gibbs he was right about her not handling the case well.
He crossed the lab, stopping next to her and dropping a kiss on top of her head. "You gonna be okay for the night?"
She nodded and turned back to her station, retrieving her faithful stuffed hippo. "I've got Bert to keep me company," she said, squeezing the plush animal and eliciting a farting noise from it. Gibbs smiled slightly, running his hand over her head. "It's just not fair, Gibbs. She didn't deserve to die."
"I know, Abby," Gibbs said, his voice quiet. There was a moment of silence, then he asked, "You sure you'll be okay tonight?"
"If I'm not, don't be surprised to see me at your house later," she said, and Gibbs chuckled, her response satisfactory to him. He cupped her cheek for a moment before turning to go, wanting to catch Ducky and Palmer before they left.
The walk down the hallway leading to autopsy was just as quiet as the trek to Abby's lab had been, something Gibbs normally appreciated, but tonight it just felt ominous, and sad. The doors to autopsy opened for him and he looked in, his figure silhouetted between the darkness of autopsy and the false brightness of the hallway.
Ducky looked over at the sound of the doors opening and forced a smile onto his face, as Palmer hurried to put his instruments away, assuming Gibbs wanted to be alone with Ducky.
"You two okay?" he asked, and Palmer looked over at him in surprise, making Gibbs smirk a bit. "Yeah, I'm talking to you, too, Palmer."
"I will be fine, Jethro," Ducky assured him. He walked over to his desk, slipping off his lab coat as he did so. "What happened today was . . . a tragedy, to be sure, but we have a duty to serve to the deceased's parents."
"Melody," Palmer said, and Ducky turned to him. Palmer cleared his throat. "Her name was Melody."
Ducky's expression hardened, then softened almost as quickly. He nodded. "You are right, my boy. She is not just a body in our morgue, she was a child, gone much too soon." There was a moment of silence, then Ducky turned back to Gibbs. "You cannot blame yourself for this, Jethro. What happened. . ."
Gibbs nodded. "I know. Palmer?"
Palmer looked at him, eyes wide. "What?"
"You gonna be okay?" He held the younger man's eyes, letting him know he wasn't judging, if Palmer wanted to confide in him, now was the time.
"I. . ." Palmer started, then he swallowed and tried again. "I don't know, Agent Gibbs. It doesn't seem right, to go home after this. She isn't going to be able to go home ever again." He let out a deep breath and wiped the back of his hand across his face. "Sorry. I know I should be able to. . ."
"There is no need to apologize, Mr. Palmer," Ducky said. "I think I would be more upset with you had you not shown any emotion." Palmer just stared at him and he continued. "It shows you are a human, and that to me is more important than professionalism."
Palmer nodded and looked back to Gibbs, who gave him a brief nod in return. "I'll tell you two the same thing I told the team – go home. Get some sleep. I'll check in in the morning."
He was gone before Ducky or Palmer could say anything in return.
When he got home that night, Gibbs didn't go to bed. He wasn't sure he'd be able to sleep, certainly not without seeing the face of that beautiful little girl. He headed to his basement, pulling a sheet off his latest project – a memory box. He'd started making one for every member of the team, planned as a Christmas gift for the next year. It felt unusually sentimental for him, but he'd almost lost them in that explosion, and he felt he needed to let them know what they meant to him.
Now, looking down at the still smooth box in front of him, he felt the need to make one for someone else, and thought back to the little girl he'd tried to save. As he started to sand the wood, his thoughts drifted. . .
"Agent Gibbs, where are you?" The tiny voice broke Gibbs' heart. He couldn't give away his position, but he didn't want to leave Melody alone, either. "Gibbs?"
The tears in her voice were too much for him, and he stepped forward, only to hear Ziva's voice in his ear. "Gibbs, it is not safe to move. We have a bead on Orison, but the little girl is in the way. If you say anything, you may be risking her life."
Gibbs swore under his breath. She was right, of course. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to decide what to do next, when he heard a gunshot. His eyes shot open as he attempted to make contact with his team. "Ziva!"
"I am fine, Gibbs! I have visual on Tony and McGee, as well. They are not hurt."
"The girl?"
"I . . . do not know. I lost visual on Orison."
"Dammit." Gibbs paused a moment, then ran out from his hiding spot, despite Ziva's screams in his ear. But once he was out in the open, it was like everything around him had disappeared. The buildings, the people, the noise. He turned in a circle, then saw it.
Melody.
She was walking toward him, calm, but as she came closer, he saw her torso was full of bullet holes, and blood ran down her body.
He just stared, unable to move or speak, until she stood just a few feet in front of him and spoke.
"You killed me, Agent Gibbs. Where were you? I needed you, and now I'm dead. Where were you? Where were you?"
Gibbs slammed his palm down on his workbench, scrunching up his face in anguish. Another little girl he couldn't save. Every time, every victim, it all came back to Shannon and Kelly. He wasn't there when they needed him. He wasn't there when Melody needed him.
He turned to retrieve the near empty bottle of bourbon on a shelf on the wall, pouring a healthy amount into an empty coffee cup, then taking a long swig. He didn't even grimace at the burn of the alcohol as he swallowed, just turned back to his workbench and picked up a chisel.
It was going to be a long night.
And he wasn't the only one struggling with the idea of sleep. At each of their respective homes, the members of Team Gibbs sat in their living rooms, wandered their kitchens, turned to their computers or chapters of their favorite books, anything to dispel the thoughts that threatened to haunt them long into the morning, and likely longer than that. When they finally did try to sleep, no one had a restful night.
"Come on, Probie. Get your hacking together and get into that house." Tony spoke to himself as he waited for visual on the little girl and her kidnapper.
The whole case made him nervous, and he wanted it to end as soon as possible – but only if the little girl was safe. He could only think back to Baltimore, the choice he'd made back then, how he wasn't able to save them both, and how if he could save this little girl, bring her home safe to her parents, then maybe he could stop feeling so guilty.
He picked up his binoculars again, focusing in on the apartment across the street. A loud noise sounded behind him, though, and he whipped his head around to see what it was. His mouth dropped open and he blinked, sure he was seeing things, as he watched the door of the empty office he sat in come crashing down in a blaze of fire. The smoke came soon after, and he raised his arm to his face to block his mouth and eyes from it, while he looked around the room, desperately seeking a way out.
That's when he heard it. The screams.
He jumped to his feet, calling out, "Who's there? Where are you?"
"Tony! Help!"
"Ziva?" That . . . that didn't make sense! She was on the roof, scoping out Orison. "Ziva, where are you?"
"Tony!"
McGee. What. . . He wasn't even supposed to be in the same building!
"Help me!"
He swallowed. That one was both of them. What the hell was going on. He took a deep breath, then steeled himself . . . and ran.
Through the smoke and into the hallway, Tony found himself spinning around as the smoke and fire disappeared, as if it was never there in the first place.
"DiNozzo! Do you copy?!"
Tony ran back to his station by the window, picking up his binoculars again as he answered Gibbs. "Yeah, Boss, what's going on?"
"She's dead."
Tony jolted up in his bed, breathing heavily. He blinked a few times, trying to wake himself, and patted the mattress, as if to make sure he was in bed and not back in his stakeout location, watching and waiting. He let his head drop back against the headboard as he remembered how the case had ended, how that part of it was very much real, no matter how much he wanted it to be false.
The little girl had died, and no matter what Gibbs or anyone else said, he knew he was at least partially responsible. He'd lost contact with McGee and freaked out. As soon as he reached the door on the ground floor, he heard the shot. He'd ran as fast as he could to McGee's station, and McGee looked up in shock at Tony's arrival. He was fine. Of course he was. He could hear Ziva babbling something in his ear and Gibbs yelled something, so he knew. . .
McGee gave him a grave look. "The girl."
Lines and lines of coding covered the walls, scrolling and morphing into different numbers, letters and symbols by the second. He didn't even know where to look. Everywhere was just . . . more.
"Come on, Probie!"
"Do you have anything yet, McGee?"
"I need that information now, McGee!"
He sat down at the keyboard and started typing, but nothing made sense, it was all gibberish, and he typed more frantically, trying obvious things, his name, NCIS, the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog, but nothing came out how it should.
"We're gonna lose him, McGee!"
"I know, I'm trying! There's something wrong. . ."
"You're not fast enough, that's what's wrong. If we can't get audio. . ."
"It is not McGee's fault, Gibbs."
"You wanna do his job, Ziva?" A pause. "Didn't think so."
"Hold on, I think I got. . ."
A shot rang out, and he nearly fell off his chair. No. No no no, they weren't done with this guy yet, they had to save the girl. . .
"Boss? Tony? Ziva?"
No answer. No audio. He glanced up at the wall and scrambled backward at the message he saw, flashing at him in neon green letters:
ALL DEAD. ALL DEAD. ALL DEAD. ALL DEAD.
He couldn't do anything but stare and shake his head, unbelieving. After a few minutes, he realized it could be a trap, a figment of his imagination, and he ran to the door, pushing it open and stepping out into the street.
He saw . . . Ziva. She was alive.
He ran to her, his heart beating so fast he was sure it would beat right out of his chest, but when he reached her, saw she looked distraught.
The sun was beating down on the city street, a beautiful day, so her words seemed so out of place when she spoke.
"He killed her."
McGee thrashed about in his bed, trying to dispel the nightmare he was having. He couldn't escape the tendrils of sleep that wrapped themselves around him, though, and even if he had woken, the nightmare would go on.
This was real life. He had blamed himself the whole ride back to NCIS. If only he had been a little faster, gotten audio a little sooner, been able to set up contact with Orison. . .
He knew he wasn't the only one blaming himself. Tony kept saying something about having to make a choice, and Gibbs didn't have to say anything for McGee to know he felt responsible. When he looked at Ziva, though, he could tell there was only one thing she was seeing when she saw the lifeless child. . .
"You got visual, Ziva?"
"I do. I have no shot, though. The girl is in the way."
"Hold back."
She rolled her neck as she kept her sight on the suspect. Holding a child captive. That was the lowest form of scum she could think of. Screw shooting him. She wanted to march into that room and. . .
"Ziva!"
"I am here, Gibbs. And . . . I have lost visual." She sighed. He kept going back and forth from what she assumed was the kitchen to the living room, where the girl was being held. It had been going on like this for hours. They'd been out on the scene since just after sunrise and it was now hitting midday. The sun was almost unbearable, but she was used to the heat. That didn't mean the brightness didn't affect her vision, though.
She gave a hard blink and allowed her eyes to focus back on the apartment, and what she saw made her blink again. She waited for the girl to look up, so she could see her face, and when she did, Ziva let out a soft gasp and muttered a few Hebrew words, followed by a name:
"Tali."
No. She was seeing things. The girl young and had dark curls, much like the ones her sister had, and so of course there was a passing resemblance, but it was impossible! Her sister had died years ago, and even if she were still alive, she would be an adult, not a young child!
She shook her head free of her thoughts and focused again, refusing to let herself be drawn into her past. She couldn't be distracted from her job, and thinking about her sister right now was dangerous, because she could not get emotionally involved.
Once she had forced herself back to the present, she focused on the apartment again, but the little girl was gone.
She jumped to her feet, calling out, "Gibbs! Gibbs, I have lost visual on the girl!"
"I know, Ziva."
She froze. "You know?"
"Look down."
She didn't have to follow his instructions to know what had happened. Suddenly, she felt faint. . .
Ziva jolted awake, but remained curled on her side, staring at the bright numbers on her digital alarm clock. She felt wetness on her cheek and lifted a hand to wipe her face. Today had been . . . difficult. From the moment the case had begun, she couldn't help but think of her sister, her best friend. She had vowed she would do whatever it took to keep the girl safe, but everything she had wasn't enough.
She could see how much the case affected everyone. Tony had a perpetual sense of guilt over virtually every case that went bad, Gibbs clearly saw his daughter in the girl and McGee his sister. She hadn't seen Ducky and Palmer, but she couldn't imagine they were in the best of moods, either.
But she had seen the Director, and the expression on his face when told of the girl's death proved to her that he was far more than just a person of power. He was a father.
He entered MTAC, taking a seat in the front row and speaking to one of the techs. "What do we know so far?"
"Not much yet, Director. We're working with Agent McGee to set up video of the scene."
He nodded and settled in to watch. It wasn't customary procedure during a case, but this wasn't just any case. This girl was the daughter of a high-ranking Navy officer, someone who was well-known in military circles, and the SecNav was breathing down Vance's neck about bringing her home safely.
He had talked to the officer earlier, had assured him he had his best team on the case, and that his daughter would be brought home soon. He just wasn't prepared for the level of crazy of this Orison guy.
"We're up," the tech said, and Vance turned his attention to the screen, watching as a DC neighborhood came into view. Apartment complexes and office buildings. Nothing special about it.
The picture changed then, to McGee's face, and he informed Vance of what was going on. "I'm going to switch the feed to the apartment. It could get graphic, just a warning."
The picture on the screen shook for a moment as McGee switched over to the hostage situation, and Vance nearly stood up at what he saw.
Rather than the little girl with curly brown hair and fair skin, he saw his own dark-skinned daughter, shaking in fear, teardrops rolling down her cheeks.
"Getting audio. . ." McGee's voice said, unaffected, as though he wasn't seeing what was going on in that room.
"You gonna scream for your daddy, Princess? He can't help you, not now. You're mine."
Kayla let out a sob and moaned, "Daddy, please. . ."
He did stand then, staring at the screen, wondering why nobody else seemed to be shocked at the turn of events. "I have to get to the scene," he said, and the tech he spoke with earlier turned to him, looking confused.
"I know she's the daughter of an important guy, Director, but Gibbs' team has things under control," he said, then added a, "Sir," as an afterthought, quickly looking back to his monitor.
Vance stared at the back of the tech's head for a few moments, then looked back to the screen. Kayla was gone. Orison was gone. The apartment was empty. McGee's voice came over the feed.
"She's dead, Director."
Vance's eyes shot open at the nightmare, and he rolled over in the bed that seemed too big for just himself, his heart aching at the action. He patted the mattress, then paused a moment before slipping out of bed and walking down the hallway, carefully opening the door to his daughter's bedroom. Kayla slept peacefully in her bed, unaware of the horrors her father had conjured in his head.
He'd do anything to keep his children safe. They were all he had left. His kids and his surrogate family at NCIS. Gibbs' team really had become more than his employees. He thought about the case, how everyone had looked after coming back to NCIS, and how the only person he had to talk to about it while the team was out in the field was a certain forensic lab technician. . .
She paced her lab, hands nervously knocking together, as she waited for news from the team. Gibbs said he would call if they had anything, and it had only been an hour or two, so she couldn't really expect it to be over yet, but every minute that ticked by that she didn't hear from them, her worry grew.
She grew tired of pacing and returned to her computer, fingers flying across the keys as she sought a way to look in on the scene, make sure the team was okay, and that the little girl they were trying to rescue would come out of this alive.
That was the scariest part. The victim here really was helpless – she couldn't overpower her kidnapper, she couldn't trick him or convince him to let her go. She just had to wait, allow Gibbs and Tony and Ziva and McGee to do their jobs, and Abby knew that feeling all too well.
"I hate waiting," she muttered to herself.
"So do I, but I've heard patience is an admirable trait to have," a voice sounded from the doorway, and she turned around to see Director Vance standing there.
"Have you heard anything from Gibbs?" she asked, not bothering with small talk. She had to know if her team was in danger!
Vance shook his head. "Still waiting it out. They'll be okay. Gibbs is the best agent for this job."
She bit her lip. "I know, but I can't help but think of that poor little girl, how scared she must be. . ." She turned back to her computer. "Maybe there's something I can do."
"Just be yourself, Abby," Vance said. "That's the best thing you can do right now." He looked at his watch. "I'll let you know if I hear from Gibbs. I have a video meeting with SecNav."
She turned back to him, hesitating a moment before rushing over and giving him a hug. He didn't move as she hugged him, and when she pulled away, she quickly apologized. "Sorry, I just . . . needed to hug someone, and since nobody else is here. . . Sorry."
But Vance just smiled. "It's alright, Abby. I think we could all use a hug today."
"I sure hope Melody gets a chance to hug her parents tonight, or sooner."
Vance's face turned serious again. "She will. I have to go."
She waved as he left the lab. "Bye, Director."
Once he was gone, she returned to her computer, but didn't try to access the scene again, just sat down on her desk chair, letting out a sigh. It really sucked being kept out of the loop, but maybe she could help in her own way, by planning something for when the case was over.
She smiled to herself, and her smile only grew when she heard her phone ring and saw it was Gibbs calling. She picked up, not having to fake the cheer in her voice. "Hey, Gibbs! What's going on?"
"We're done."
She bounced out of her chair. "You did it? She's safe?" Gibbs didn't say anything right away and her enthusiasm died a little, but she just repeated herself. "You got the kidnapper to give himself up, right?"
"No, Abbs." He paused again, but she didn't say anything, just waited. "She's dead."
She felt the phone drop from her hand as she collapsed on the floor, sobbing.
"No, no, no, it can't be true, no. . ." Abby mumbled to herself in her sleep, until she felt someone shaking her, and a voice above her.
"Abby, wake up! You're dreaming, it's just a dream, come on. . ."
She opened her eyes, letting them focus before taking in Palmer's worried face. "Jimmy?"
"You were having a nightmare, Abby," he repeated.
Abby raised her hand to her head and sat up. "It seemed so real. Melody?"
The name made Palmer swallow, and he looked away, not wanting to confirm that maybe her nightmare hadn't been just a dream, and maybe she hadn't been the only one having them. . .
"Mr. Palmer, could you prepare the van?"
"Doctor Mallard?"
"We are needed."
He hadn't said anything in response to that, just did as Ducky ordered and got everything ready to go. He'd really been hoping Gibbs and the team would be able to get the little girl out safely. What had gone wrong?
He kept quiet the whole way to the scene, and he could tell this case bothered Ducky more than usual, as well, because the normally talkative man hardly said a word the entire drive.
When they arrived at the scene, Ducky turned to Palmer, who hadn't moved yet from the driver's seat. "Mr. Palmer?"
"I-I've never autopsied a child before," he said softly, then looked up to meet Ducky's eyes.
Ducky's expression softened upon looking at his protégé. "It does not get any easier, no matter how many you do."
Something in his words piqued Palmer's curiosity, but he knew now wouldn't be a good time to ask, and he wasn't sure he really wanted to know the answer. He finally gave a nod and pushed open the door, stepping out and walking to the back of the van.
Just the few feet to the back doors seemed to take ages, and he rolled the gurney out, staring at the smaller than usual body bag resting on top of it.
"Do we really have to do an autopsy?" he whispered.
Ducky didn't respond with words, just laid a hand on Palmer's shoulder. They walked to the crime scene, lifting the tape, to where a white sheet covered a body in the middle of the street.
Palmer squatted down beside the body, letting out a deep breath before he removed the sheet. Okay. This was okay. She didn't look that bad. She looked like she was sleeping. Gibbs had said they'd disappeared from the video feed of the apartment, and just as they were preparing to leave their stations and go busting in to the apartment, Orison had appeared through the front door of the apartment building, dropping the girl on the pavement. He didn't have time to even think about running, as Ziva gunned him down as soon as the girl was out of his arms.
As Palmer stared down at the girl, her eyes suddenly flicked open and he jumped, but couldn't take his own eyes off her.
"Are you going to cut me open?" she asked, and Palmer nearly shrieked, but held himself back, instead turning to Ducky.
"Doctor. . . Doctor Mallard," he said, his voice shaking as he tugged on Ducky's jumpsuit.
"Yes, Mr. Palmer, what is it?" He turned to face Palmer, but instead of the face of the kindly doctor he expected to see, he saw the face of the kidnapper. Ducky/Orison gave Palmer a smug smile. "Something wrong?"
"Oh my God!" Palmer exclaimed as he woke, blinking and looking around to figure out where he was. A shiver ran down his spine as he realized he was in autopsy. Not on one of the tables, thank God, but on Abby's air mattress, which she'd lent him a few days ago. He'd found himself having a hard time sleeping since the case ended, and being alone in his apartment hadn't helped, so he was sleeping at NCIS until these nightmares stopped.
The doors to autopsy opened then, and Palmer froze, not sure who it was. When the lights flickered on and he saw it was Ducky, he let out a breath. Ducky dawdled around for a few seconds, taking off his coat and hanging it up, then doing the same with his hat, before he looked over, jumping a bit when he saw Palmer.
"Oh! I didn't see you there, my boy. Are you still sleeping down here?" He tsked at the younger man, showing his displeasure at his recent activities. "I have already offered you the guest room at my house, if you are still having nightmares."
Palmer lowered his head, feeling grateful and ashamed at the same time. "I appreciate the offer, Doctor Mallard, but I couldn't impose. . ."
Ducky waved away his words. "It is not an imposition, Mr. Palmer. It is an offer," he lowered his voice a little, "and to be honest, I would feel more secure knowing someone else was there."
Palmer looked up at that, surprised. He smiled, then gave Ducky a small nod. "Okay. You just let me know if I'm being a nuisance."
Ducky returned his smile, but behind the genuine emotion, there was a sadness in his eyes. If only Palmer knew the depths of his own nightmares. . .
He walked down the hallway, pausing before the dark room before standing in front of the doors, triggering them to open. He stood in the doorway for a moment, gathering himself, before flipping on the lights and stepping inside. He went about his normal activities, taking off his outerwear, putting on his lab coat, gathering his paperwork and instruments. Just as he was about to walk toward the bank of refrigerated drawers, the phone on his desk rang.
He picked it up with a, "Doctor Mallard," listening for a few minutes before sighing and saying, "No, it is fine, Mr. Palmer. I am sure I can function alone today. No, no, if you are ill, then I certainly do not need you here. Yes, get well soon." He hung up and sighed as he walked over to the drawers, pausing before opening one.
Inside was the little girl they'd tried to save. Thankfully for everyone, her cause of death seemed to be from poisoning, a shot of some sort, rather than a gunshot or something that would have left her body disfigured.
"A true angel," he said softly. He usually didn't let himself get so sentimental over victims, but this case was different. Children, he felt, should be treated with extra care.
After a few moments, he snapped himself back to his professional self, sighing a bit as he realized he would have to move the body to the table himself, something Palmer usually did. But the girl was not as heavy as his usual bodies, so it took only a few minutes to get her situated.
He had just set up his tape recorder and picked up a scalpel to start the Y incision when he heard a noise, causing him to pause in his motions. He looked around, and when the noise didn't continue, turned back to the body.
Suddenly, one of the drawers flew open and Ducky stumbled in surprise, dropping his scalpel on the floor as he did so. It clinked against the tile, the noise deafening in the otherwise silent room.
He kept his eyes on the drawers, waiting to see what would happen next. The body within slowly sat up and Ducky stepped backwards, trying to reach his desk and the phone, to contact Gibbs or someone who could help.
He was so focused on the body in the drawer that he didn't realize the little girl lying on his autopsy table had also sat up and was looking around, her gaze finally settling on him.
"I just wanted to go home," she said. "Just like everyone else."
"Let us go home," the other body still in the drawer said, and more drawers opened, with the bodies within echoing Melody and the other nameless body.
Meanwhile, Ducky cowered at his desk, horrified. "You can go home," he said. "You can go home. You can go home. . ."
"Doctor? Doctor Mallard, can you hear me?" Palmer shook Ducky gently, wanting to wake him from his dream. He was surprised the older man had fallen asleep at his desk, but it had been a rough couple of days, so it really wasn't too unusual for anyone to allow sleep to sneak in on their workday.
Ducky mumbled something else and slowly came to, yawning and blinking as he turned around, noticing Palmer. "Oh, Mr. Palmer. What are you. . ." He looked around and chuckled to himself. "Oh, dear, it appears I have fallen asleep on the job. At least I was not in the middle of an autopsy."
Palmer returned his chuckle, but it was unsure. "I caught McGee asleep at his desk when I went to give your report to Agent Gibbs. Gibbs wasn't there, but uh," he frowned, "Ziva was doing something to McGee's computer and told me not to say anything to anyone."
Ducky smiled at him. "My lips are sealed." Palmer looked confused and Ducky rolled his eyes. "You were not meant to tell anyone?"
"Oh! Oh, right. Well, uh, thanks for not telling anyone."
Ducky chuckled again and stood up. "I believe we have a little girl to send home now, my boy."
Palmer turned serious again and nodded, following Ducky from autopsy. They were meeting Melody's parents up in the squad room, and it promised to be an emotional reunion.
When they stepped off the elevator, they saw Melody's parents standing by Ziva's desk, talking with her, and Ducky cleared his throat as they approached.
"You must be Doctor Mallard," Melody's father said, reaching out to shake his hand. "I'd like to thank you for taking care of my daughter."
Ducky gave him a soft smile. "She is truly an angel," he said, then looked over her shoulder as he saw someone approaching. "Ah, there is Agent Gibbs now. I believe he is the man to whom you would really like to speak."
Melody's parents turned around, her mother letting out an audible sob as Gibbs came into view . . . holding the hand of the little girl, who ran to her parents with a cry of, "Mommy! Daddy!"
"Oh, Melody," her mother sobbed, gathering the girl close to her and kissing the top of her head as she hugged her. She looked up, meeting Gibbs' blue eyes as he smiled at her. "Thank you so much, Agent Gibbs. Thank you for keeping her safe. When your Director told me he had his best team on the case, I knew she would be okay." She kissed her daughter's head again, unable to stop smiling.
Vance appeared then, as if summoned, to see the family out. The rest of the team – Ducky, Palmer and Abby included – watched them leave, happy the case had had a happy ending. It wasn't such a sure thing the whole time, but in the end, they were successful.
Ducky thought back to the dreams he'd had every night Gibbs' team had been working this case. Odd ones, at that, focusing on every member of the team, with every dream ending the same way – the little girl died. But dreams were just dreams, even if they were nightmares, and now that Melody had been reunited with her parents, he knew he would be able to start living his life again, and stop living the nightmare.
THE END!