I was...bowled over (hope this also works for 'positive' surprises) by the response to this story. I has never happened before that I had this many nice reviews, not to mention the sheer number of alerts!

THANK YOU ALL! You've all made me so happy.

On with the story.

Chapter 2: Boss, We Have a Problem
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"Okay, Houston, we've had a problem here."
- Swigert / Lovell -

~o~

"So, Mr McGee, all you'll be asked to do is just rest while we wait for the results of the echographies of your abdomen. We'll also need to perform a radiography of your chest, back and head. No other places you experience any pain?"

"N..no. Don't think so."

"Good. Just remember you let us know when you feel anything's not right, okay?"

She put a clean kidney tray on the stand next to the bed. "Just in case... And don't be scared to call us."

He nodded, already feeling his stomach's content rise.

The nurse was about to close the curtain of the cubicle when the ER doctor on watch made his entry, holding Tim's medical notes.

"Ah, what do we have here... The result of a collision on the ice rink..." He was interrupted by the sound of heaving and moaning coming from the bed.

"...The echo didn't show any major internal damage which is a good sign. You may feel some discomfort for a while, though, Mr McGee. You fell with quite a smack."

Tim made to sit up, but the doctor quickly laid a restraining hand on his shoulder.

"Wo-hoa! You're not going anywhere, Mr McGee. We want to keep you here for a while yet. You've suffered a mild concussion which needs following-up, bruised ribs, and your internal injuries, while minor, still necessitate bed rest. So I suggest you stay put until you're moved to your room for the next few days.

The doctor clapped his clipboard shut and turned to leave when he was arrested in his tracks by a groan.

"Sir?"

"You're not serious, right? I can't stay away from work over...over..."

"Oh no? Can you walk? If you can honestly trust yourself to get off the bed and walk out the door without trouble, you're free to go." With a slight bow, he waved his hand towards the door as an invitation.

Tim regarded him warily before bringing his legs over the side of the bed and planting his feet on the ground.

The doctor couldn't believe his eyes when his stubborn patient with a grunt and a sigh made to stand.

"What the...? Oh, come on! What I meant is that I insist you are not fit to leave the hospital, Mr McGee! Please get back in bed!"

Tim was swaying dangerously, a sheen of perspiration on his pale face giving evidence of his pain and discomfort. The doctor quickly, yet gently, helped him back down on the bed.

"You said..." Tim protested weakly.

The doctor sighed. "I know what I said. Just didn't expect you to take it this literally. Trust me: you need to lie down and let your body..."

Whatever else the young doctor had wanted to say, was broken off by a commotion at the farther end of the room. He excused himself to Tim and was about to go and see if his colleagues needed an extra hand for a difficult, maybe aggressive, patient. He was, however held back and stared in surprise at the hand that had gripped his lower arm. Then his gaze went up to meet his patient's eyes. Tim subtly shook his head.

Tim, through all his accumulated experience, had recognized the signs which set off some alarm bells. Besides, he couldn't ignore this tingling that crept up his spine when sensing danger. Maybe his current condition, the injuries, had made him more susceptible to an imminent crisis.

There was more shouting followed by a gun shot which had the young doctor wanting to go and check it out, but common sense seemed to prevail and he leaned in closer to his patient who seemed to know more.

"How did you...? Did you actually pay attention to what was being said?"

Tim shook his head and smiled nervously. "The man's tone... Didn't hear all of it, but I did catch some words... Was enough for me. Not good." He sighed with frustration.

A short moment later, he licked his dry lips. "Doctor..."

"Morse."

"Dr. Morse. I...I'm a Federal Agent. NCIS." Tim whispered with some urgency.

Dr. Morse, a little surprised at this information, stared long and hard into his patient's eyes as if sizing him up.

A painful wince spurred the doctor to insert an IV in Tim's arm.

The fact that Tim didn't protest, said enough. He was in pain and did need medical care.

There was another reason, though. Both men were of the same mind and realized it might be necessary to keep Tim alert just in case they might need his experience as an agent to get out of this situation.

There was more yelling and stumbling and something, or somebody, crashing into a trolley...

A yelp of pain and a curse.

"Get down! Sit!"

Whimpering, and whispering...what might be words of comfort.

"Anyone else moves and I'll..."

Tim and Dr. Morse locked worried eyes.

Soon.

Soon they'd be found. How could they not be?

There were angry steps approaching.

Tim swallowed hard and tried to stop the trembling which was taking over. He was unarmed and hardly in any condition to do anything.

Dr. Morse instinctively laid a protective hand on Tim's bare shoulder for which Tim felt somewhat grateful as it steadied him.

The curtain was brusquely drawn aside, revealing a dishevelled man.

In that instant, Tim recognized underlying fear and...something else, in the man's dark eyes as he looked directly into Tim's.

Grief. Unfathomable grief. He'd recognize this look anywhere, anytime. He'd seen it too often when he'd met family members of murder victims.

Knowing this, he was confused. Torn, too, since the man obviously wasn't in his right mind, consumed by grief... And that grief was most probably the cause of his actions.

This was a normal everyday citizen who now found himself caught in a hopeless situation he'd caused himself.

The man broke eye contact and motioned both Tim and Dr. Morse out of the cubicle.

"Sit with the others and don't try any funny things."

Tim blinked and Dr. Morse opened his mouth to protest.

"Move it! Now!"

Dr. Morse stood firm, though, and tried to plead, keeping his voice soft as he tried to mollify the troubled man. "This patient can't be moved. Surely..."

Keeping his weapon trained on Tim, the man called over his shoulder. "Somebody. Get over here and help to get this man. Any wrong movement and I'll shoot him."

A nurse scrambled to her feet and, with great caution, stepped forward to stand beside the bed Tim was lying on.

He closed his eyes. This couldn't end well. No way was this going to end well...

He felt hands try to raise him by his shoulders and into a sitting position, more or less.

It was pointless to let the others do all the hard work and carry him over to where the other hostages were huddling together in various stages of fright an unease.

Tim opened his eyes and with a grunt levered his legs over the side as he had done earlier on when he tried to get up and walk out.

"Ready...Timothy?" Dr. Morse asked, measuring up his patient to see if he would be able to walk the 20 odd steps to the little group in the far corner.

Tim cleared his throat before giving a hoarse: "I think so."

The nurse and the doctor helped him stand and it became soon very clear he couldn't walk two steps, let alone 20, without aid. They took a firmer hold on his arms and held him up under his armpits, drawing with them the stand on which the IV bag was hooked.

It was a slow procession and by the time they lowered him to the ground, he was exhausted and sweating profusely. The palor had become alarminly pronounced.

Dr. Morse and the nurse shared concerned looks. They had their confirmation that their charge had suffered internal injuries, but to what extent?

The short walk had intensified the pain and Tim wondered when the meds would do their numbing job. He hoped the doctor hadn't given him a dose which would make him too drowsy to the point of dragging him into sleep!

He slowly and painfully positioned his arm so he could rest his head on it, in such a way he could still keep a wary eye on the clearly agitated and unstable man. It's never a good idea to turn your back on your captor!

A sudden sharp pain twisted his gut bad enough to make tears spring to his eyes and he brought his other fist to his mouth to stifle a moan. He momentarily closed his eyes until the spasm passed. When he opened them again, he was gratified to notice nothing had changed.

He'd have to keep a cool head, even if he was still sick with pain and disomfort.

Taking the time to look around at the others, he found they were all staring at him.

There was nothing he wished to do more than close his eyes and drift off, but that was totally out of the question and he stealed himself to stay awake.

Before too long, he got the cogs in his mind turning, hoping he'd find a way to get them all out of this dire situation.

PS: this story's already been finished and I hope to update daily