Aftershock I: Doctor's Orders

McGee was still sprawled across the conference room table when he heard the door behind him open quietly. He buried his face farther into his crossed arms, blushing furiously at being found sobbing.

'Ah, Timothy. How are you doing, my boy?'

McGee felt Ducky's fingers against his neck as he checked his pulse, and he tried to stifle his crying. The kindly ME was apparently satisfied, mumbling something to himself and ruffling his embarrassed patient's hair.

'I thought you might need these.'

Tim looked up at the sound of something being placed near his head, then pushed himself painfully upright before reaching gratefully for the box of tissues. His ass still hurt like hell, and the simple movement made him wince. He blew his nose several times, choking slightly when a stray sob escaped his determined efforts to pull himself together. He watched while Ducky pulled a handkerchief from his pocket – only Ducky would still carry an actual handkerchief! – and moistened the square of cotton from the bottle of water he'd carried tucked under his arm. McGee accepted the cool, damp cloth and passed it over his tear-streaked face before pressing it against his swollen eyes.

When he emerged a few minutes later, Ducky held out the bottle to him.

'Small sips, Timothy.'

McGee took the bottle and held it to his lips, his eyes searching Ducky's face for the judgement he expected to find there. It was bad enough that he'd almost been responsible for Abby's death, and that he'd finally managed to provoke Gibbs into giving him the first strapping of his life. Now it was also obvious that he couldn't even take his punishment without being reduced to a whimpering mess.

Instead, he saw only concern.

'Right then. Let's get you home.'

'I'm alright, Ducky. You don't have to... I mean, I appreciate your... uh... help... but I can...'

'Timothy. You are in no shape to drive. Now, I am taking you home, and that is final.'

McGee desperately wanted to be left alone but realised that he was not going to win this argument. Sighing deeply, he allowed Ducky to lead him to the parking lot. To his relief, the team's area of the squad room was empty when they passed it. He really did not want to deal with whatever smartass comment Tony would make about 'Probie's first spanking'. And he didn't think he could face Gibbs so soon after being whipped by him.

Standing next to the passenger's seat of the vintage Morgan, McGee paused, dreading the pain that he was sure would accompany any effort to sit down. Seeing his reluctant charge warily eyeing the car seat, Ducky encouraged him kindly. Tim baulked, taking a step backwards and shaking his head.

'Uh, I don't think I can, Ducky. I think it's gonna... well... it's going to hurt... to... uh... sit down.'

'Yes, it is. I imagine you're going to be feeling it for a few days.'

Ducky suppressed a smile at McGee's horrified expression, and allowed him a few moments to process the information.

'Best to just get it over with, Timothy. In you get.'

When McGee hesitated, Ducky continued with a gentle smile, 'I don't think today would be the best time for you to discover the consequences of defying a direct order, lad.'

McGee flushed deeply at the implied threat. He didn't think that Ducky actually would spank him for stalling, but he had to admit that postponing the inevitable wasn't going to make it any easier. Taking a deep breath and gritting his teeth, he stepped into the car, gasping loudly when his ass made contact with the seat.

He was still squirming, trying to brace himself with his hands and feet to keep most of his weight off of his butt, when Ducky slid behind the wheel.

'Seatbelt, Timothy'.

McGee stared, horrified, at the older man, realising that he could not maintain his precarious position of minimal discomfort while he fastened the belt. Ducky continued to prattle on about something, his voice barely registering in McGee's consciousness. Fortunately, he didn't seem to notice that his reluctant passenger made no effort to secure his seatbelt, and McGee started to wonder if he'd get away with not moving after all.

'That was not a suggestion, lad.'

The steely tone of Ducky's voice startled McGee and, in his haste to comply, he forgot about the unaccustomed need to minimise contact with his backside. He reached instinctively for the shoulder harness, and the burst of pain the action caused made him cry out in surprise. His face was flushed with embarrassment at the display of weakness as he choked out a quiet 'sorry'.

'There's no need to be embarrassed, Timothy. There is no shame in admitting that you are in pain. And I've no doubt that you have suffered an emotional as well as physical trauma.'

McGee squirmed uncomfortably. He was hurting, confused, embarrassed, and desperate for the quiet solitude he needed to start to deal with the day's events. He didn't particularly want to discuss what had happened to him. And he really didn't want Ducky doing one of his 'psychological autopsies' on the experience.

Ducky, being Ducky, inevitably continued.

'I know full well how painful a thrashing can be, and I expect that Gibbs was quite hard on you, given the circumstances. I'd be surprised indeed if you weren't having difficulty sitting, after a session with his belt. I know I always had great difficulty enduring dinnertime after I'd been punished for some childhood indiscretion and, on a few occasions, school the next day was most unpleasant. I remember one time, during my last year of school before I went away to Eton, when I had taken some money from my mother's purse for a film at the local cinema that I'd been forbidden to see because, in her opinion, it unduly glorified war. It was the first time she spanked me with anything other than her hand, and it was weeks before I could even look at a wooden spoon without shuddering. And only the fear of the tawse kept me at my desk in the morning. In those days, children were expected to sit still and pay attention during lessons, you know; there were none of the 'activity stations' or 'child-centred learning models' that seem to have infested the education system today. More than once, some unfortunate lad who was unable to bear hours on a hard wooden seat without squirming the morning after a particularly severe spanking acquired a red and swollen hand as well, for his fidgeting.'

Tim was unsure what to think about Ducky's reminiscences. He was mildly horrified, and profoundly grateful that he was too young for corporal punishment to have been in use in any of his schools. He had never been in trouble with his teachers, but he was sure he would have spent his entire childhood in abject terror anyway, if there had been any possibility at all of being paddled. It was, at least, a bit reassuring to know that he was not alone in his inability to achieve the unflinching stoicism that he'd imagined was expected. But, on the other hand, it didn't help very much to be told that he was reacting exactly like child.

'Great,' he mumbled, more convinced than ever that he had 'failed' his first serious spanking. 'I can't even handle a ten-year-old's punishment.'

'Nonsense, Timothy. From what I've seen, you've 'handled' it, as you say, perfectly reasonably.'

'I cried, Ducky!'

'Oh, for heaven's sake! A spanking is supposed to hurt, and you are supposed to react to it. Being an adult doesn't change that.'

'Yeah, well, it changes how I feel about it...' McGee muttered, before lapsing into silence.

'Ah, I see,' Ducky began, and, stopped at a red light, he stole a sideways glance at his red-faced passenger before continuing. 'Do I detect a touch of embarrassment, not just about admitting that what you call a 'child's punishment' hurt, but about being subject to that punishment in the first place?'

'Sort of. I mean, I know it's not just me... Gibbs... uh... you know. But, seriously... how many adults get spanked?!'

'I think Abigail might be better qualified to answer that than I...'

'You know what I mean, Ducky!' Tim croaked, blushing even deeper red. This was so not a conversation he wanted to have with Ducky... in fact, he didn't even want to think about how Ducky even knew to hint at it. He'd played a bit with Abby when they were dating, and he knew that she liked things a lot heavier than what they'd done together... oh, God, how could she possibly enjoy something like what he'd just been through?! Horrified, he wrenched his mind away from that train of thought and focused back on what Ducky was saying. Fortunately, the ME had moved on, rambling slightly as was his wont.

'I can, in fact, relate somewhat to what you are feeling, dear boy. It was my final term at Eton – not at all the same thing, of course, but I was at that age when boys like to think of themselves as young men, you know. And I was a prefect, so I was used to having a certain authority, and being accorded a degree of respect, both by the other lads and by the teachers. And I was caught smoking with a few of my friends. Yes, yes, a foolish thing, but we didn't know as much about the evils of tobacco in those days, and it was an act of youthful bravado to sneak off for a forbidden cigarette. Unfortunately for me, being found smoking meant an automatic birching. During morning assembly. I practically begged the headmaster to punish me privately, but he told me that the public disgrace was part of the punishment, and meant as a deterrent to the other boys. So there I was, a prefect, with my trousers around my ankles, being held down over the block by two of my favourite teachers while the headmaster thrashed me in front of the entire upper school. I thought I would die from embarrassment, let alone the pain.'

'What happened? I mean, how did you face your classmates, after that?'

'Oh, there was a certain amount of ribbing, to be sure. Especially when I had to discipline some of the younger boys. But, ultimately, it didn't really change how anyone thought of me... if anything, I gained a greater acceptance as one of the lads. And you, dear boy, have nothing to worry about in that department, since Anthony is in no position to say anything about you being punished by Gibbs.'

Tim smiled a little at Ducky's perceptive comment about his real concern.

'No, I guess not. But I still have to live with it. Knowing that I... you know... and that I'm not really... well, the person I always thought... I don't know how to explain...'

'You are uncomfortable with the idea of no longer being the good child who has never needed to be punished.'

McGee recognised himself in Ducky's words. He had never been seriously punished, had never done anything to merit significant punishment. He'd always been the quiet, obedient one, had always seen himself in those terms. He was devastated by the memory of being whipped, by the pain he was still feeling, and by the knowledge that he'd never again be able to enjoy the distinction of not having been disciplined by his boss.

'Uh... yeah... I guess it's something like that...'

Ducky smiled kindly and patted him affectionately on the knee.

'I can certainly relate to that feeling. I remember very vividly the first time I was caned at school. I had resolved to avoid ever experiencing the infamous Eton cane, but that was, of course, a completely unreasonable goal. Nonetheless, I was devastated when I heard the dreaded command to report to the headmaster's study. It wasn't just that I was afraid of the pain, although, naturally, I was simply terrified. I was also humiliated to find myself in that position, and very upset by the effect on my self-perception. I knew I deserved it, but I found it very difficult to really believe that I'd done something to deserve it. Childhood mischief didn't carry nearly the same feeling of wrongdoing, and the formality of the situation made the punishment, and the offence that gave rise to it, seem so much more serious. Recovering from that psychological blow took much longer than getting over the physical effects of the experience.'

Despite himself, Tim felt himself being drawn in. He was still a bit uncomfortable with the entire conversation, but he found it oddly reassuring to know that he wasn't doing something wrong, reacting as he was to one of the most traumatic experiences of his life. 'What had you done?' he asked.

'I'd cheated on a homework assignment.'

McGee turned his head to stare, open-mouthed, at the older man.

'Well, actually, I'd helped one of the other boys in my dormitory to cheat on a homework assignment. The poor boy was struggling, and he knew he'd be punished if he got another failing grade. In desperation, he asked if he could copy my work. I felt sorry for him. I knew intellectually that it was not allowed, but it didn't feel wrong at the time. And it was a set of maths problems, so I foolishly thought that there'd be no way for anyone to know that he'd copied my paper, since there was no personalising element to distinguish one right answer from another, as there would be in an essay or something of that nature.'

McGee almost laughed at the obvious problem with that logic.

'But if you both had the same wrong answer...'

'Exactly! Anyway, it was discovered and instead of one of us being punished for failing, we were both punished much more severely for cheating.'

'But...'

'And rightly so, I might add. Oh, I certainly didn't enjoy it at the time, but I'm grateful that my upbringing was in the hands of people who cared enough about me not to "spare the rod," as they say.'

McGee pondered that comment for a few minutes, during which Ducky, sensing Tim's need to work through what he'd said, was uncharacteristically quiet. After a while, the ME prodded gently, 'What's troubling you?'

'I'm just... surprised... I guess... that you... uh... approve... of... well... this.'

'Why on earth wouldn't I approve?'

'You're a doctor... aren't you supposed to have a problem with someone deliberately causing this much pain?'

'It's "do no harm," Timothy. And I assure you, you haven't been harmed. Mere pain is not a problem. Indeed, the practice of medicine often requires the infliction of pain to achieve some greater good. A surgeon wielding a scalpel is certainly going to cause a great deal of pain, as is a doctor setting a dislocated shoulder. And a bone marrow transplant is exceedingly painful for the donor as well as for the patient. Every young medical student has to learn to accept that he will have to cause pain in order to cause healing...'

'Uh... ok... but I'm not really seeing the healing...' Tim muttered, cutting off Ducky's monologue just as they pulled up in front of his building.

'Healing the conscience is a perfectly legitimate purpose, my boy. And I promise you that appropriately severe punishment is the very best cure for guilt. Now then, would you like to be alone, or shall I stay for a while?'

McGee managed a trace of a smile as he answered, 'I think I need some time to think, Ducky. But, thank you for the offer. And the.. uh... pep-talk.'

'Not at all, lad, not at all. And do think about what I just said, won't you?'

Tim struggled out of the car, finding the effort almost as painful as getting in.

'Uh, sure. Thanks again. Uh, bye.'

Finally on his feet, he shut the car door gently on the avuncular older man and turned towards the apartment entrance, very much looking forward to spending the rest of the evening face down on his bed.