Once they reached autopsy's floor, Tony switched the elevator button that would hold the doors open, and went to fetch Ducky. Gibbs knelt down in front of McGee, who was now still and silent in the corner.
"Tim?" he said softly. Slowly, McGee lifted his head and looked around. He seemed confused.
"Boss? H-how did I end up on the floor?" Gibbs raised his brows.
"You don't remember?" McGee shook his head. Gibbs stood and held a hand out to help him up, which Tim hesitantly took, and stood as well. "You started to have some kinda panic attack," he told him. "What happened in New York?" Tim shook his head.
"Still trying to figure that out, Boss," he explained with a furrowed brow. Tony returned with Ducky.
"Are you alright, Timothy?" he asked as he approached him. Tim took a hesitant step back and hit the wall. Ducky straightened a bit and took a cautious step back. "Perhaps we should take this into my office," he said to Gibbs. They all piled out of the elevator and turned to McGee, who seemed relieved to be out of there. "Now, as I was saying, how are you feeling?" he asked again as they walked into autopsy.
"Have a headache," he said, suddenly feeling the fatigue catch up to him.
"Yes, Anthony tells me you have a concussion. And that you don't recall how you received it." Tim glanced around the room, noting that Gibbs and Tony seemed worried as they stood a good distance from him. He turned back to Ducky.
"Well," he started, "The only thing we can seem to figure at the moment is that I was apparently drinking. And obviously I hit my head on something."
"Perhaps I can take a look?" he asked, stepping cautiously toward him, noticing when the agent began to tense up. "Do you trust me?" he asked. Tim flinched and blinked a few times.
"'Course, Ducky," he replied.
"Perhaps you should lie down," he suggested. McGee looked behind him at the empty cold table and hopped onto hit, maneuvering himself to lie on his back. "And could you point out where the laceration is?" he asked, mostly to assure the man where he intended to examine.
"Boss," Tony said quietly. "I've gotta bring this stuff to Abby." Gibbs noticed for the first time, the evidence kit in his hand. He quietly followed him out of autopsy.
"Tell me what you know," he demanded.
"He called me at four this morning. Said he didn't know where he was or what happened. He was confused...which is why he called me, I'm guessing...anyway, I told him to get to a hospital and took the first flight I could to go up there. Checked out his room before picking him up. There was blood in the bed. Mostly dry. Brought the sheets back with me," he motioned to the kit. "Nothing else in the room. Except an empty bottle of cheap vodka in the trash. I bagged that too."
"No one else in the room?" Tony shook his head. "You talk to anyone?"
"Receptionist said she saw him last night at the convention. Didn't recall if he'd left with anyone. But McGee remembered giving an extra ticket to a woman...said she was with some other guy by the end of the evening. Doesn't remember anything past having a drink at the bar."
"Gotta be an answer in between that drink, and the empty bottle you found in his room," he said. "Go on," he told him, motioning to the elevator as he went back into autopsy.
"Abby, I need you to not freak out when you look at the sheets," Tony said as he handed her the evidence. "He had a mild laceration on his head that bled heavily, but he's been seen by a doctor and he's fine, okay?"
"Geez, Tony, I'm a forensic scientist," she defended. "I don't get squeamish around blood."
"I know you don't. But you do tend to worry when it comes to blood that came from your friends." He set the box down on the table. "Two things; blood on the sheets, and an empty liquor bottle. Call me as soon as find anything," he told her, and glanced at Ziva before heading out.
Ziva followed him and got in the elevator with him. "Is he really okay?" she asked with a hint of disbelief.
"No," he said once the doors closed. She furrowed a brow.
"What do you mean?"
"He wigged out when we did this," he flipped the emergency switch, bringing the elevator to a halt.
"When you...stopped the elevator? Like Gibbs does pretty much regularly?"
"Yeah. Exactly, Zi. That doesn't make sense." She thought for a moment then turned the elevator back on.
"Were there elevators in the hotel?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said passively. Then looked down in thought. "There was one shut down for maintenance," he picked up his cell.
"What is it?" she asked.
"I should've checked that elevator," he said as the doors opened and he put the phone to his ear. "Hi, Vanessa, this is Agent DiNozzo. I was there earlier this morning...yeah. Could you tell me why there's an elevator out of order in the building?"
"I believe the E.R doctor may have made an error in Timothy's diagnosis," Ducky said as he stepped out of autopsy with Gibbs. McGee had fallen asleep on the cold table. "I don't believe his memory loss is solely due to a concussion. I think his mind is protecting itself."
"What do ya mean?"
"Something happened to him, Jethro," he said quietly. "Something he does not want to remember. And judging by his reaction in the elevator, I think we need to figure out what it was, before it manifests itself in a much more dangerous way." Gibbs looked at Ducky for another moment, as if he could somehow answer the riddle. "I assume you've given your other case to another team." Gibbs nodded. "Good. Perhaps you should go see Abigail. I'll keep an eye on McGee."
Gibbs walked into the lab with a Caf-Pow in one hand, and coffee in the other. "Hey, Gibbs," Abby said without looking away from her computer. He set the drink down in front of her. "I don't have much for you yet," her voice wasn't as enthusiastic as normal, but she was trying to play it cool. "I lifted a few prints from the bottle, but haven't found a match yet. And the blood on the sheets definitely belongs to Timmy..." her gaze seemed to shift a bit.
"You okay, Abs?" he asked.
"There's way too much blood for it to have come from just his head," she replied. "And why would it be on the sheet instead of a pillowcase?"
"Maybe he didn't sleep on a pillow?"
"McGee sleeps with a pillow, Gibbs," she turned to him. "Where is he? Why can't I see him?"
"You can," he said. "But he's sleeping. And right now, he needs you to figure out what happened to him." Her expression didn't change. It was steady; tired and worried...and uncertain. She turned back to her computer.
"What I know for sure, is that Tim didn't have anything to do with that vodka. None of the prints were his. And no DNA indicating anyone drank out of it. I'm running a tox screen on the blood from the sheets, but I need a sample from McGee to run now...'cause I don't know how long that blood was there...I mean, it's mostly dry, which means he could've bled before he went to the convention...or after he went to his room and went to sleep...I just don't know..." The computer beeped as well as the machine behind them.
She typed on the keyboard to bring up a match. "Two of the prints match one person," she clicked. "Bradley Deberoh, lives in NYC. Civilian. Single, no kids." She spun around to attend to the machine as Gibbs squinted at the picture on the screen. "Blood alcohol level way under the legal limit," she said. "No..." he heard her say and turned around. "No, this...this can't be, Gibbs," she looked up at him with glassy red eyes.
"What is it," he approached her and looked down at the paper in her hands.
"There are traces of Rohypnol in his blood..." Gibbs clenched his jaw. "Gibbs...the blood on the sheets..."
"You got DiNozzo's photos uploaded?"
"Yeah," she went to the computer and pulled up the pictures and Gibbs stood in front of the big screen. "There's the bed," she said. He squinted at the picture, his stomach churning at the sight.
"You find anything besides blood on those sheets?" he sounded angry now.
"No. And I already looked through his overnight bag. But whatever he wore last night is gone. Like he threw it away." Gibbs' cell rang.
"What?" he yelled as he answered.
"Uh...Boss, I just got off the phone with the hotel security in Buffalo. They said one of the elevators was shut down because someone discovered blood in it this morning. They're sending the report and pictures to us right now. Buffalo PD is working the case right now."
"You call them back and tell them to pick up Bradley Deberoh. His prints were on the bottle. And tell them to bring the son of a bitch HERE." He ended the call.
By the time Gibbs got up to the bullpen, Ziva and Tony were viewing the hotel elevator picks on the big screen. "What do we got?" he asked.
"Think we found where McGee hit his head," Tony told him, changing to a close-up shot of the handrail in the elevator. There was a small amount of blood and hair on the sharp top of its ledge. "And in the corner...a few drops of blood on the floor," his eyes grew distant as he recalled Tim's outburst earlier. Gibbs could read the expression on his senior agent's face.
"Any word on Deberoh?" he asked.
"No...uh..." he shook his head as if trying to shake something from his concentration. "Cleaning staff found bloody clothes in a dumpster outside the hotel. Said they'd send them here with Deberoh once they pick him up. They're gonna take pictures and send it to my email first." His eyes grew distant again, and he barely registered when Ziva's phone rang. She glanced at Gibbs before answering.
"David," she said. After a moment of listening, "Of course, Ducky, I will be right down," she hung up and glanced at Gibbs. "Ducky is on his way up. He wants me to come sit with McGee, even though he is asleep right now." Gibbs nodded and turned back to Tony as she left.
"What do you think, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked after a few moments. Tony swallowed.
"You don't even wanna know..." he turned off the screen and went to his desk.
"Abby tell you what she found in his blood?" Tony nodded silently, clenching his jaw as he sat.
"Got security footage of the convention being sent as we speak," he added. Ducky entered the bullpen then and went to stand between both men.
"I gave him a mild sedative," he began. "He's sleeping restfully, I can only hope."
"You come all the way up here to tell me that?" Gibbs asked.
"No. I took the opportunity to take a closer look at him. What I can see of his skin seems to have been scalded and scrubbed... It seems he showered after whatever happened. Desperate to get something off of him. I can only assume at this point, Jethro, but the only evidence we have at this time seems to point in one direction..."
"Don't gotta say it, Duck," Gibbs said. "I think we all have the same feeling. But we can't make that assumption yet..." A beep sounded from Tony's computer, causing them to look over in his direction as he sat up straight to click open his email.
Gibbs watched all color leave the agent's face and quickly made his way over to the desk to look at what he'd seen. Pictures... two of them. Both of a tan-colored pair of pants. The front and then the back...blood between the back pockets and down...
Tony pushed violently away from his desk and stood, heading for the bathroom, and Ducky went to Gibbs' side to view the photos as well. "Oh my," he said. "Unfortunately, it seems that our feelings may have been accurate after all..." Gibbs stepped away and looked at his friend.
"Go back downstairs and tell Ziva I need her up here. Security footage is attached to that email, and I need her to go over it."
Tony splashed cold water on his face over the sink. He was trying desperately to fend off a wave of nausea, but as much as tried, it came anyway.
Gibbs walked in just as his agent began heaving into the sink. He cringed a bit at the clear liquid that fell into the basin and washed away with the running water. But he remained silent and stood against the wall, allowing Tony some space as he waited for the heaving to end.
"Can't believe this..." Tony said with a broken voice. Gibbs squinted as Tony's head settled on the edge of the counter as he breathed.
"Might not be what it looks like," he replied, and Tony stood and turned to look at him.
"Really?" he asked with a bit of anger evident on his face, "'Cause I thought you were there in the elevator and saw the way he acted, too," he accused. Gibbs remained silent. "I've worked with victims like this before...so have you. You know exactly what that looked like," he turned back to the sink and splashed more water on his face, taking some of it into his mouth and spitting. "I should've stayed...found this son of a bitch," he turned off the water and grabbed for a paper towel.
"There's no way to be sure who we're even lookin' for yet," Gibbs said.
"Well if I'd known, I would've checked out that elevator and found the fuck out," he said angrily.
"You brought McGee home," Gibbs stepped closer to him, with an equal amount of anger in his voice, "He called you because he needed you...trusted you. And you brought him home. That's what you were supposed to do, DiNozzo. You couldn't have stopped it from happening. No one foresaw this. So let Buff PD run the scene and do their jobs. 'Cause right now, what Tim needs are his friends."
Tony looked at him as he considered his words. "I don't know what to do," he said quietly.
"You just be there to listen," he said simply. "We don't know what happened...and until we find the SOB who did this, McGee is the only one who does."
He watched his boss turn and leave the bathroom as he stood there against the sink counter. He was right...they didn't know anything. But everything pointed to a sick and devastating possibility...
