Written for the Ducky/Scottish Group Challenge
Warning: spoiler for Season 9 finale "Till Death Do Us Part"
Lyrics from I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles) by The Proclaimers (the Scottish band of my choice :) )
*beep* *beep* *beep*
"Doctor? Can you tell me how he's doing?"
"He's stable. This being the first time he experienced a cardiac attack and your getting to him in time to call for help and make him comfortable in the meantime has been primordial in stabilizing him. He should make a good recovery. Of course...considering his age...and my understanding he's still professionally occupied as a medical examiner..."
Jimmy Palmer nodded in agreement. Of course he knew. They'd talked about this before. In fact, they'd had this similar conversation not that long ago. Had it been only days ago his mentor had talked about cutting down on the workload?
He blinked to clear his vision which had suddenly gone all blurry.
He let his gaze settle on the still form of his friend and mentor. The man who was like a father to him. The man he could share his secrets with, ask for help.
"I should've been ready so I could take over some of the tasks he did. Maybe talk him into doing a part-time."
*beep* *beep* *beep *
Jimmy started as the doctor continued.
"This is a wake-up call Dr. Mallard can't ignore. From this moment on, he'll have to listen to his body telling him when it's enough."
Jimmy gave a wan smile. As if anyone could tell Ducky to take it easy. As a doctor, Ducky wouldn't waste time in telling others in no uncertain terms how they had to take better care of themselves. He would put his foot down and make absolutely sure his charges wouldn't over exert themselves when recovering from an illness or an injury. But when it came to his own well being?
With a pang, he remembered one instance when Ducky had slightly stumbled and mumbled something of suffering an indigestion. He'd gone into his office and locked the door behind him. Could it be? Jimmy now realized, in hindsight, that he should have taken it upon himself to ask Ducky about it. He should've helped him.
"I understand some bad news triggered this episode? An emotional upset can do this."
Jimmy mutely nodded. What could he say to that? When he heard the horrid news...literally dropped like a bomb shell...he'd felt his own heart skip a few beats. He'd never been shaken more than when he was passed on the news of the bomb attack on the Naval Yard. His second home. His second family.
He'd picked up the phone from Ducky's limp hands... Seeing the number, he'd made sure to call them back after attending to Ducky first.
-o0o-
*beep* *beep* *beep*
Ducky slowly drifted to awareness again. Not for long. He was so immensely tired.
Yes, a wee nap couldn't harm, could it?
Soft, muted voices, as if from the distance, penetrated his hazy brain.
Jimmy.
He smiled. Or he thought he was smiling. Was he really smiling?
Either way, hearing his trusted assistant's young voice helped to lull him back to healing sleep...
To sweet dreams...
...about the girl with the golden hair.
His beautiful Morag. His love. His life.
And when I'm dreaming, well I know I'm gonna dream
I'm gonna Dream about the time when I'm with you
When I wake up, well I know I'm gonna be,
I'm gonna be the man who wakes up next you
And dream he did.
Young Donald Mallard, falling head over heels in love with the chancellor's beautiful and much talented daughter and, like him, at Edinburgh University Medical School.
Morag.
She was all he wanted for his dream woman: a natural beauty, an easy manner, caring and, above all, one of the most intelligent people he'd ever met.
But Morag was born in a wealthy family and they didn't take too kindly to their daughter, who was the most eligible girl in the upper class Edinburgh society, dating a student from inferior birth.
The Mallards lived in Leith and Donald had spent most of his time at school at Docky Bell's.
Moreover, the chancellor, a widower, couldn't have it that she didn't devote more time to her study instead of "frolicking" with another student.
Upon her father's insistance, Morag promised him she would be a good student and no longer see Donald.
She promised...but never meant it.
The two young people took great care to keep meeting in secret. After all, they both were among the brightest at Medical School. Seeing one another didn't much interfere with their studies anyway.
Until that fateful day when disaster struck and young Donald Mallard's life turned topsy-turvy.
Donald had treated Morag to a nice, fancy dinner – he'd saved every penny to offer her a memorable birthday – and then they'd gone to the Alabam; or the Alhambra cinema at Springfield Street.
Halfway through the movie, a thick smoke came from the spool room and before they knew it, the fire had quickly spread through the cinema. Panic set in. Pandemonium. People made for the nearest exits in the darkness and both Morag and Donald were caught in the stream of people.
They'd linked hands in an attempt to stay together as the panic stricken mass rushed for the exits, carrying Morag and Donald with them.
The smoke made it hard to breathe and soon they were coughing. People started to fall to the ground.
Suddenly, Donald lost Morag's grip and, to his utmost fear, they got separated.
He could just make out her desperate calls for him through the din and, contrary to his logical thinking, he tried to push his way towards her.
All around him, people were getting trampled upon as they piled in front of the locked fire doors.
He heard her one more time...so close...and yet so far far away.
He coughed and started to feel giddy.
Recognizing the signs, he took his handkerchief and covered his nose and mouth with it as he frantically continued his search for his love. His Morag.
It was not to be...
By the time the fire brigade had managed to break open the doors...many young people had died.
Morag...was one of them. Suffocated. Crushed as she was run underfoot of the panicked mob.
When he was recovering from the smoke inhalation, her father had paid him a visit...to curse him for killing his beautiful and only daughter.
The man had even threatened to kill him if he ever lay eyes on him again.
After graduating from Medical School, Dr. Donald Mallard visited her grave.
I'm gonna be the man who's lonely without you
He would never be able to wake up next to Morag. All alone.
He left his home to start a new life, one without Morag, in the United States. It was his due punishment. He'd deserved that; doomed to live a solitary life. No loving wife. No bairns.
Much later, when his father died, his mother flew over from Scotland to move in with him.
-oOo-
Waking up was not what he had expected.
In fact, what had he expected?
For one, the first memory as awareness returned, had been of the crushing pain he'd felt in his chest before collapsing to the sand, the water of the ocean lapping at him as if eager to engulf him utterly.
Then, the regular and, to him, familiar sound of the machines which registered his vital functions. As a doctor, he knew only too well what that meant.
He turned his head towards the monitors hoping to learn how bad it was.
How did he feel?
But I would walk 500 miles
And I would walk 500 more
Just to be the man who walks a thousand miles
To fall down at your door
Not too bad, considering. He was, maybe, feeling a little drowsy. No strength left.
Of course he realized as no one else how he'd be winded before he got his feet on the floor beside his hospital bed; let alone walk out of that door!
Ducky gave a short cynical chuckle which he immediately regretted when the heart monitor's beeps increased as he felt the telltale squeezing of his chest; a sure sign he should abstain from any exertion. And that included even laughing! Well I never!
The pain slowly released and he was gratified his heart rate had returned to almost normal by the time the ICU nurse hurried towards him, checking the readings on the monitors and the lines attached to various parts of his body.
"In all seriousness," Ducky thought. "Would that I could find a nice lady to spend the rest of my days with. I would do that for her. I can't do that for my sweet Morag anymore. Alas. But I would be very willing to run to hell and back to be with her..."
If his body allowed him.
He was a man long past his prime. He was a man in the fall of his life. There was still beauty and happiness; like the warm, glowing and golden colors of the trees in that transition between summer and winter. But, he had to face his limitations.
However, he refused to believe he was an old man. But he sure as hell wasn't a bumbling old man! He still had a job.
His job...
His heart grew heavy again. That infernal tightening sensation again.
Much as he liked Jimmy, and thought him worthy to take over the task of ME at NCIS, or any place, Ducky simply couldn't just give up. Not yet. Not for as long as he was still capable of doing his job.
He'd had a couple of cardiac episodes before. Not to this extent. This one, was the worst so far.
He'd have to be more careful.
Until now, he'd been able to cover them up. Sometimes, the episodes would just come and go. Sometimes, they lasted long enough to worry him, and during such episodes, the intensity would wax and wane like the tides. He'd talked to his doctor and got medication plus the suggestion to take it easier.
Easier? What for? His work was his life. What else did he have?
When I'm working, yes I know I'm gonna be
I'm gonna be the man who's working hard for you
-o0o-
Ducky awoke to the soft, comforting touch on his brow.
He felt no pain at all and he heaved a contented sigh.
Nice.
The hand shifted from his brow to his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
Opening his eyes, he found himself looking into Jimmy's worried ones.
He fumbled for the lever but the younger man was faster and raised the bed so he was sitting at a better angle.
Jimmy leaned towards the side and held a glass of water to Ducky's lips.
Upon Ducky's request, Jimmy briefed him about the casualties of the bombing at the Yard, and how Team Gibbs had been affected.
Before the good doctor would become too agitated, Jimmy quickly went on to reassure him none on the team had lost their lives.
Somewhat relieved at this news, Ducky was still worried about their injuries.
Both Gibbs and Abby had needed treatment for chemical inhalation. It was more a matter of making sure the fumes hadn't caused too much damage to their lungs. The blast, though, had rendered Gibbs unconscious and with his medical history, the doctors thought it wise to keep him under close observation.
Tony and Ziva had been a little banged up when the elevator made a sickening jolt by the shock of the detonation. They'd mostly suffered from bruises and after being treated at the hospital could soon return home. They'd be a little stiff for the next couple of days. Ziva would need physical therapy for her shoulder. Tony was advised to keep to his house as well to recover from a concussion, especially since it had been his second in a year's time.
Director Vance and Agent Dorneget had both made it out of the building in time.
Without wasting any precious seconds, the Director had coordinated the evacuation and subsequent rescue of people still trapped in the building with the Fire & Rescue Department. At the staging area, his assistant Pamela, went over the checklists with the Emergency Coordinator.
Tim...was the one who had sustained the worst injuries. He hadn't made it out of the squad room, along with three other employees, two of which were dead. He was currently at the ICU . He hadn't regained consciousness, yet. The blast had knocked him off his feet. He'd been rushed to the hospital with internal injuries but the doctors were confident he would make a full recovery.
His anxiety for the team somewhat alleviated, Ducky let himself be pulled back under.
-o0o-
Two weeks later.
At the ringing of his doorbell, Ducky's feet shuffled for his slippers.
After he'd been released from the hospital, he had returned home to his 'humble abode' at Georgetown, making a little detour to Bethesda to see how the team were doing.
He was glad they were all recovering nicely and they had expressed their own relief at seeing him doing well, too, considering what had happened to him on that beach.
He got up and opened the door to Penelope Langston giving him a look-over. Satisfied, she smiled.
Ducky held out his hand and took hers as he led her inside.
Penelope had been such a dear and she had made it quite clear to him she would see to it that he failed nothing during his recovery.
So, she had been over every day since his return back home. She had cooked and cleaned and kept him company. And, since she had been spending so much time with him, they'd both come to the realization they had more in common than they'd thought before.
Every day, she stayed longer and they didn't grow bored with each other's company. Quite the reverse.
Every day, he looked forward to her arrival. If he could, he would've been counting down the minutes.
With every new day, they grew closer.
Could he...?
Would Penelope...?
What if...?
So many questions and no real answers.
He needed time. This was too delicate...too impetuous to encourage her.
With Penelope by his side, would he have the chance to spend the rest of his days in happiness with her.
Was there still hope for this old boy?
Had he finally found his special someone in Penelope?
I'm gonna be the man who's coming home with you
I'm gonna be the man who's growing old with you
Maybe it was finally time to let Morag go.
FIN
This oneshot was written during a particularly hard and weird week for me: a man committing suicide by jumping in front of the train I was on, from which we were evacuated; the next day, I was called to check on a dying guest (my first) at the hotel where I work; and at the end of that week my beloved cat Nelson died as he was hit by a car...