A/N: for the White Elephant Exchange this year, I wrote a story for DNAchemLia. She likes ghost stories. I know almost nothing about ghost stories, but I wanted the challenge. I will post it a chapter every 2 days until it is done. Sheila
The Nature of Evil
Chapter 1
There was enough of a breeze so that his suit coat kept flapping despite securing all buttons. He tried to ignore it as he stood in front of her grave. He concentrated on it, trying to figure out what proper procedure was when visiting a cemetery. More than that, he had to figure out what she might want of him.
It was 50 degrees Fahrenheit, but the wind was cold and wet, previewing the rain he'd read about in the forecast. He folded his arms against the cold, and stared at the granite stone. There was nothing unique about it. It was similar to all the others, and that bothered him. He remembered Kate's drive and sense of duty being remarkable, and it felt wrong that there wasn't something marking that. She'd always been a soldier in the purest sense of the word.
The bouquet he placed in front of her stone was impressive, and he had the credit card receipt to prove it. No funky colors for Kate. Just deep, blood red roses. Unlike Abby, Kate never colored outside the lines. She would want her flowers to be a color found in nature; something that echoed her classic beauty.
The wind picked up, but he didn't move. He'd come all this way to make it right- if only he could figure out what that meant. He noticed weeds tugging at the edges of the stone, and he dropped to his knees and pulled them. He gathered them up, dirty roots and all, and stuffed them in his suit coat pocket. Then he sat back on his haunches and worried his lip. "Kate, is this going to help? Is this what you needed? I have to guess, you know. It's not like you're helping me out or anything. Do you feel like we forgot about you? We didn't. None of us have. Just last month an old friend from the Secret Service stopped by. He'd gone to Afghanistan after 9/11 and had just retired. He didn't know you'd passed. He stopped by because he'd been thinking about you. We had to tell him and that was hard, and you could just feel the mood drop after he left. Tony disappeared and didn't come back for three hours. Boss, he just kept staring at your desk, and I know he wasn't looking at Ziva."
A fine mist blew in the wind and he knew a downpour was imminent. "I feel ridiculous. I don't know what I'm doing, but I'm scared. I don't sleep. I don't eat right. My hands tremble all the time, and as much as I don't believe in ghosts, this was the only thing I could think to do- even if it's only symbolic."
Big, wet drops hit his face. "Your mom is only a few miles from here. Will it be too weird to visit? I feel like I should. If honoring you is the antidote to this thing, then this has to be part of it. I just hope she doesn't think it's too random."
….
He sat stiffly in the Todd home, perched upright on the couch. He hadn't taken time to change and his suit was slightly damp and wrinkled. She'd insisted on taking his jacket and returned with an old Indiana State sweatshirt- undoubtedly Kate's father's.
Her fussing embarrassed him, but he was too polite to object and he accepted the hot tea with thanks. She'd just hung his suit jacket in the laundry room, and he worried it would be hours before he could make a gracious exit.
The living room was solid middle class frugality. It was crowded with family heirlooms, and furniture that was decades old, but carefully maintained and spotless.
Amanda Todd sat down finally and smiled. "It's so sweet of you to stop. What brought you to town?"
"I have a case in Indianapolis," he lied. "I just thought it would be nice to stop by and pay my respects. I apologize for not calling ahead. I should've done that."
"Of course not! You're a very busy agent. As it was you drove at least two hours away to stop in on an old lady. I couldn't be happier to see you."
"Thank you, Ma'am."
She smiled. "I'd ask you to call me Amanda, but I remember you well, Agent McGee. You're too polite for that. Kaitlyn spoke of you often."
"She did?"
"All of you. My dear girl called me 3-4 times a week, and while she didn't discuss cases, she loved talking about her team."
"I don't know," he said, sipping from his cup.
"Oh yes. I heard about all of you. The enigmatic Gibbs who inspired loyalty like no one she'd ever known. The goofy but big hearted DiNozzo with his amazing instincts. Sweet, brilliant Abby who taught my Kaitlyn to be a little less buttoned up. And then there was you, the impossibly young and earnest agent with the sharp intellect. You were all her family away from home."
"I never knew. It's makes me sad it took so long for me to stop and pay my respects."
She shook her head. "You're all too busy. And you're doing God's work. I say a prayer for all of you every night."
He reddened. "We appreciate it, Ma'am."
"How is the team doing?"
"We are all good. We've stayed together for a long time. More than most teams. Don't know why that is exactly, but I know I'm exactly where I am supposed to be, and I can't really imagine leaving."
She nodded. "Most people never find what you've found in a work environment. I'm glad you haven't let ambition sully it."
"Never thought about like that, but I think you have a good point."
For a moment, neither said anything. Then Amanda Todd got up and returned with a couple of albums. "It's always unclear what one does when they stop to visit. People are always so worried about bringing sadness and pain, but honestly, it's such a treat to talk about my darling girl. It's doesn't hurt me a bit. Can I share some pictures with you?"
"Of course."
She sat down next to him, and opened one of the large books. "I know everyone else keeps pictures on the computer these days, but I'll always prefer my books. Let me show you some pictures of Kaitlyn in high school. She was so young and pretty, and all she wanted to do was change the world."
McGee got lost in her narrative of Kate through the years, and he was grateful that she took charge. He enjoyed watching Kate grow up in the albums- every picture a testament to her passion and goodness. He lost track of time, and was surprised when she pointed out that it had gotten dark out.
"I'm sure you're hungry, and I've put nothing on the stove."
Blinking back to the present, he said. "I wish I could stay longer, but I have a plane to catch."
Another lie. A quick glance at his phone told him that he'd missed his flight back to D.C. She eyed him and he could tell she could sense the truth, but she didn't push. She just fetched his coat, but insisted he keep the old sweatshirt. He squeezed her hands, and uncharacteristically leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Thank you so much for sharing all of these stories with me."
It was still drizzling when he walked out to the car, and he saw her standing at the living room window watching him as he drove away.
….
He sat up, breathing hard. It took a moment to remember his surroundings. The hotel room was cheap and stale, but it was near the airport. He glanced at the clock. It was 2:30 a.m. and he groaned. He still had a couple of hours he could sleep before boarding the 7 a.m. flight.
He rubbed at his face with shaky hands. She was back as big and three dimensional as anything in his waking life. The dreams themselves were not important and he rarely remembered details. All he remembered was Kate Todd watching him with worried eyes.
"Kate," he said into the darkness. "Why are you here all the time? I can't seem to get you out of my head."
He felt pressure at the end of the bed and he sucked in breath.
"You're in the room, aren't you?"
"I am."
"Please God no. I can't handle this."
He couldn't see her. There was no ghostly apparition, but her presence was clear. His hyper-logical mind should've rebelled but something about it felt natural as if she'd been there all this time, but was only now acknowledging it.
"Why Kate? Why is this happening?"
He felt the pressure of her hand on his thigh, but it inspired nothing but a feeling of comfort. "I don't know, Tim."
He shook his head. "Please. You have to know why. You came to me."
"I am here, but I don't know the reason."
"Am I crazy? Have I lost my hold on reality?"
"No."
"Do you come to others too?"
"I have."
"And you spoke to them?"
"Only a five year old girl named Carly. I was with her for a year."
"Why?"
"She needed me."
"Do I need you?"
"Yes."
"Why? Is someone going to hurt me? Are you a premonition? If you are, consider me forewarned. You can go now. I can watch out for myself."
"I'm not a premonition."
"Kate, your presence is destroying my life. I can't function."
Her touch shifted and he felt a warm presence on his shoulder. "I'm not trying to hurt you."
"You're scaring me."
"You're scaring yourself, Tim. Your lack of sleep is happening because you refuse to accept what you can not explain."
"I don't believe in ghosts."
"Therein lies your problem. Carly was willing to accept me as I am. I ended up being tremendous comfort for her. You are unwilling to tolerate my presence. That's why you're struggling so much."
"What did she need you for?"
He felt a sense of outrage in her touch. "She was being abused by an uncle. She is what you would term as autistic, and she didn't have the language to understand her pain or ask for help. She needed me."
Her emotion surged through him like a bolt of lightning. "Is this why you're here? Tell me something- anything! I'll find her. I will protect her. You have my promise."
The shape of her fingers squeezed his shoulder. "Her mother noticed that something was off. She installed a camera, and Carly is safe now. They caught him and he's is in jail."
He shook his head. "What are the parallels? I'm not a helpless little girl. I can take care of myself."
"I don't know, Tim. I only know that Carly was the last person to need me- before you."
"And I'm just supposed to accept your presence without any understanding of it."
"You'll sleep better."
"I don't think I can do this, Kate."
"But you have to. You need to."
"I don't need you. Please understand that. I will be fine. Please give me some peace."
"It's not my decision to be here. I don't get to choose to stay nor do I get to choose to go. I only know that I am for a reason."
"Who chooses, Kate? Who?"
"It's not a who or a what or a thing. What this is, is not tempered by time or space or anything linear. I am here because I am meant to be here. Why that is will be revealed when it is meant to be revealed."
"Why me?"
"That will be revealed to both of us when it's time.
McGee looked at the digital time. "It's only 3 a.m. and I've slept less than two hours. I'm not going to be able to sleep after this. I'm going to have to get on a flight in four hours, then grab a cab to work, and then try to explain to Gibbs why I'm three hours late for work without revealing that I spent the weekend at your graveside begging you to leave me alone."
"Lying to Gibbs isn't going to work for you." He could sense some akin to amusement in her voice.
"Telling the truth is going to land me in a hospital."
"Relax, Tim. There are people in your life that will understand this. I can feel it."
…
He tumbled out of the elevator and glanced at the clock across the room. It was almost noon. He still wore yesterday's clothes, and despite ironing them, he couldn't rid them of the mustiness of the previous day's rain.
He rushed past his teammates and slung his backpack behind his chair and then he sat. Ziva and Tony watched him wordlessly. He knew that but he ignored them as he powered up his computer. His trembling fingers wouldn't cooperate, and it took three tries to get his password right.
"McGee."
He closed his eyes. "How mad is he? I mean, I couldn't really call from where I was but I texted you both."
Tony studied him carefully. "It's not a crime to be late or it wouldn't be if this wasn't the morning when we were doing our quarterly file review with Vance."
Bile rose in McGee's gut. He'd completely forgotten. The quarterly file review was an event similar to the Spanish Inquisition, and it involved not just Vance but several department heads. Being the organized one, it was his job to prepare the cases for review. "What happened?"
Ziva shrugged. "We don't know. When you didn't show, Gibbs went up alone and we haven't seen him since. Are you okay? You look even worse than you did last week."
"Actually, you remind me of an old detective I knew back in Baltimore. Drank like a fish. Eyes like pissholes in the snow. Trembling hands."
McGee swallowed. "I'm not drinking, Tony."
"I know. Almost wish you were. Then I'd know what needed doing. Something is very wrong with you."
"Trouble sleeping."
Tony slammed a fist on his desk. "You said that last week and the week before! This is more than insomnia and you know it! I'm tired of the lies."
"Well, I don't what the truth is anymore," he said softly. "So don't ask me any more questions."
"We're worried, McGee."
He looked down at his desk. "I'm not sick and I'm not in danger. For right now, that's going to have to be good enough."
"Well, it's not, Tim."
McGee looked up into the penetrating eyes of Leroy Jethro Gibbs.
He jumped up. "I am so sorry, Boss."
Gibbs walked past him and dropped a large sheaf of files on DiNozzo's desk. "Our file review is rescheduled for tomorrow morning at 7 a.m. Have these ready by then."
"Come on, Boss. This is McGee's thing."
"Are you the senior agent, Tony?"
He nodded.
"Then make it your thing."
Gibbs turned and looked at McGee for a long moment. "Grab your gear and come with me."
Gibbs didn't wait for a response as he headed for the elevator. Tim grabbed his backpack and followed. Neither said anything in the elevator or in the hallway as he followed his boss into Autopsy.
Ducky and Jimmy looked up as they entered. Gibbs gave Palmer a hard look and the young man scattered. Gibbs pointed to a chair and McGee sat. Gibbs leaned against a table and regarded him. "You look worse than you did last week."
"Boss, I am sorry. It won't ever happen again."
"I don't want to hear it."
Ducky frowned. "Jethro."
"In the last two weeks, I have watched you deteriorate. I gave you a week to figure it out. Last week, I knew I had to get involved. I talked to you twice. Told you we were here for you. Told you take time off. You said all you needed was a little rest. You told me that a quiet weekend would fix everything."
"Boss-"
Gibbs shook his head. "I don't think you had a quiet weekend. In fact, I understand that you are working on a case in Indianapolis. How's that case going?"
McGee closed his eyes. Ducky looked at Gibbs. "I don't understand. Is Timothy working on a special project?"
"I don't think so. I asked Vance. He said no. But it must be true. You told Kate's mother that."
"She called you?" McGee whispered.
"No, she didn't. She called her daughter, Rachel. You remember Dr. Cranston. Said she'd had a nice visit from one of Kate's teammates. But it left her worried. She said you seemed worn out, distracted. She wanted Rachel to talk to your boss and tell him you needed a rest."
"I shouldn't have visited her."
"Tim, I'm tired of guessing. If you can't talk to me, then talk to Ducky here. I don't even have to be here if you're uncomfortable."
"I'm so sorry."
"You know I don't care for apologies. I want the truth. I want to know how to help. And I'm telling you right now that you're not working on my team until I understand what's going on."
McGee hung his head. Ducky came over with a blood pressure cuff. "Let me check you out."
While he was pumping, McGee looked at Gibbs. "I was embarrassed. I didn't think you'd believe me. I didn't believe me."
"What's going on, McGee?" Gibbs' voice was soft.
"I'm not sleeping."
He chortled. "We know that. You look like a ghost these days."
McGee winced. "I'm having dreams- very vivid dreams. I can't shake them."
"175/130." Ducky shook his head. "Not acceptable, Timothy. How did these dreams bring you to Kate's hometown?"
McGee sighed. "She's in all of them. She's looking at me, shaking her head. She's sad."
"You went to her gravesite, didn't you?"
McGee turned to Ducky and nodded. "I thought the dreams were telling me that I'd forgotten her. I thought it would help to visit and pay my respects. Somehow, it made sense to do the same with her mother."
Ducky leaned forward. "Timothy, it's natural to worry about moving on. It happens to all of us. Right, Jethro?"
Gibbs was looking at McGee. "Yeah, it happens to all of us, but this is different, isn't McGee?"
"I just think I need some sleep."
"Come on, Tim. You're doing good. Tell me the rest."
McGee looked down at his hands. "It doesn't just happen when I'm sleep. She's there. I really think she's with me. She's talking to me...she touched me."
"What is she saying?"
He shook his head. "Ah, not much. She says she protects people now, and she says I need her."
"Why?"
He shook his head. "I know it's not real. Ghosts aren't real. I'm fighting it all the time. When she touched me last night, it felt every bit as real as any of you. That makes me a crazy person, doesn't it?"
Ducky exchanged looks with Gibbs and came over, checking McGee's irises. "Timothy, when you deny yourself sleep, psychosis can set in. I don't think you're crazy. I think you're hallucinating because you're so sleep deprived."
McGee let out a sigh of relief. "Really? You think that's all it is?"
"Absolutely! I'm going to prescribe you some sedatives. You need to sleep for a few days and when you wake, I think you're going to feel much better."
"Thanks Ducky. I mean it. I've been so scared."
"We could've avoided a lot of this, Tim, if you'd told us this a week ago."
"Sorry Boss, I thought it was something I could fix. Besides, I didn't want to bring up any painful memories of Kate for a you."
He shook his head. "For a smart guy, you sure are a bonehead."
Ducky handed him a script. "You're off for the next three days, but I'm going to want to check in with you tomorrow."
"Got it. I'm going to fill this right away and go home." McGee started for the door.
"Hold on there. We're not unleashing you on area roadways with your lack of sleep. I'm driving you home. I left my car outside of the evidence garage. Meet me down there in ten minutes."
Gibbs was gone before McGee could protest. Ducky put an arm around his shoulder. "Timothy, we are always here for you. Never worry that something is too stupid or sensitive for us ever."
…
McGee walked into the elevator nodding at the two agents from Terrorism and was surprised when it lurched upward. He hadn't paid enough attention to wait for a down elevator. He found a spot in the corner and leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. The elevator stopped at 3 and the agents got off. There were a number of people that crowded in, but he was too tired to do more than nod briefly as he waited for the car to hit lower level.
The feeling came in a rush like one might feel when someone jumps out of nowhere and grabs you from behind, steel gliding across your neck. His eyes flew open but no one was touching him. Two women and a man were discussing GAO reports in a folder. Fear flooded his gut and up through his throat and he gripped the railings inside the car tightly. It was as if every danger he'd ever faced had crowded into the elevator, but he couldn't spot the threat.
One of the women turned and her brows furrowed in concern. "You're Special Agent McGee, right?"
He nodded curtly.
"Got a headache?" She cocked her head in sympathy.
They were all looking at him now, and it was all he could do to croak the word, "Migraine."
The man shook his head. "Horrible things, migraines. Have you tried a beta-blocker? My doc prescribed one to me, and I haven't had one in years."
His heart was beating so fast as to explode, but he did nothing but nod. "Thanks."
The elevator stopped and the three of them left, one of the women turning to give him a sympathetic smile. The doors closed and he let himself slide to the ground, landing on his knees. His gut lurched and he had to work to keep from vomiting fear all over the floor.
The door opened in the sub basement with McGee on his hands and knees struggling to catch his breath. He reached for a railing and pulled himself upright.
"Tim? You alright?"
He looked up sharply and found Gibbs watching him. "Boss, I tripped. Just too tired, I guess."
"You sure?"
There weren't words to describe what had just happened so he just nodded. "Let's just get the sedative, okay?"
….
The car ride with Gibbs was misery. Those wizened blue eyes studied him at every stoplight and it was all he could do to keep his breath steady. The naked fear rippled through him to the ends of his nerves. At the pharmacy, he handed Gibbs his script and insurance card, mumbling something about a migraine. He didn't trust that he could stay on his legs for any length of time. The minute Gibbs disappeared inside, McGee stumbled out of the car and ran around the corner. He leaned over and vomited everything onto the asphalt. He dry heaved for a few minutes more and then made his way back to the car. A few minutes later, Gibbs returned. The wary looks continued but he asked no questions.
McGee got into his apartment and locked the door behind him. His hands were shaking as he wrestled with the prescription bottle. Gibbs told him he could take one tablet every 8 hours, but he needed more than just sleep. He needed to erase whatever was happening to him. He opened the refrigerator and opened a bottle of wine. He swallowed three of the pills, tipped his head back and swigged the wine.
He pulled off his clothes and climbed into bed, staring up at the ceiling fan. He tried to get lost in its rhythmic motions, but the fear still surged through him. It was only when his eyes got heavy that he thought about the dangers of tripling his sedation.
….
TBC