Three Crow Road
Chapter 2
Gibbs leaned back in his chair and looked up at the large glass panes overhead, trying unsuccessfully to erase the day's collection of unpleasant images from his mind. The rest of his team had left hours ago, but he had remained, needing the relative quiet and solitude to get his head on straight. His team knew that cases involving children always bothered their boss, but they had no idea just how much. Every young innocent face reminded him of the daughter he had lost, every expression of pain and terror he saw during the course of these investigations stabbed through his heart like a knife. The image of Kristi Zickert, wide blue eyes suddenly obscured by a spray of blood, had haunted his thoughts and while he had managed to hide his emotions, as he always did, he knew that image would not go away for a long time.
Gibbs was also troubled by the fact that another one of his team had been witness to the events and, in the aftermath, he had not been able to provide the support he knew was needed. McGee had never been one for accepting such condolences, but Gibbs knew he should have made more of an effort to ease the younger man's pain. He'd have to talk to McGee tomorrow, under the guise of professional concern, to make sure he was really all right. He knew McGee wouldn't accept any other type of comfort, as he feared showing any sort of weakness, but the lead agent would make sure McGee knew that he wasn't alone in his grief.
Gibbs slowly sat up in his chair and looked at his watch. Ducky would probably still be down in Autopsy, and right now he needed the quiet comfort of his friend's presence. Sometimes he required a different type of solace, one gained by seeing the woman he often treated like his daughter, full of energy and life, but Abby was away at a conference. He wouldn't be able to see her until tomorrow, but he knew he needed something to help lift the pall that hung over his thoughts, so he rose from his seat and headed for the elevator, hoping to catch the M.E. before he left for the evening.
When he reached Autopsy, he saw, much to his relief, that the tables were empty and Ducky was at his desk typing up his own report of the day's tragedy. As Gibbs stepped through the sliding door, Ducky looked up and gave him a weary smile.
"Jethro, I had a suspicion I'd be seeing you yet this evening."
"Know me too well, Duck."
"Indeed. I also suspect that it is not just your own issues that have brought you here. You're concerned about Timothy."
"He'll bounce back. He always does," Gibbs replied, as much to reassure himself as his friend.
"True, but one begins to wonder how long that will continue. He has taken in quite a lot over the years, and had internalized much of his anguish. Rather like someone else I know."
"Your point, Duck?"
"Perhaps it is time you discussed this with him…before he is no longer able to keep everything 'bottled up' as everyone expects."
"McGee isn't much for talking about that stuff, Duck. Neither am I."
"Then maybe it is time for a change."
"What brought this up?"
Ducky sighed. "Just a feeling, if you will. Timothy seemed uncommonly affected by today's events. I am worried about him, and I believe he needs the support now."
"I'll talk to him tomorrow. I was planning on it…but you already knew that."
"Yes, I did, but I think both of you need to discuss these issues, really discuss them. Before what you have been holding back reaches critical mass."
"Don't think that will happen. McGee's not gonna talk to me, not like that."
"You won't know until you try, Jethro."
Part of Gibbs knew what Ducky was saying was true, that McGee, as resilient as he was, might need more than the usual curt assurances and silent support but it was, if not easier, more comforting to fall into his normal routine.
"I'll keep it in mind."
"You do that. Now as for—"
Ducky was interrupted by the ringing of Gibbs' cell phone, and he gave a weary sigh as Gibbs answered.
"Yeah, Gibbs."
"Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs?"
"Yeah?" he replied, an uncomfortable tension rising in his gut.
"This is Emily Phillips calling from Suburban Hospital. You're listed as an emergency contact for Timothy McGee—"
"What happened?"
"He was brought in to our Trauma Unit about twenty minutes ago. They've managed to stabilize him and have taken him up to the O.R."
"What happened to him?"
"It appears he was shot. Maryland state police found him on a rural highway, about five miles northwest of Burkittsville. He was Med-flighted in."
"Where was he hit?" Gibbs glanced at Ducky, whose eyes were wide with alarm, as he steeled himself for the answer.
"In the back, twice."
Gibbs rubbed a hand over his face as he tried to control the rush of fear he felt for his agent. "I'll be there as soon as I can." He snapped the phone shut and turned to his friend.
"Who?" Ducky asked before Gibbs could say anything.
"McGee. He's at Suburban Hospital. Someone shot him in the back." Gibbs opened his phone and hit a number on speed dial as he remembered a conversation that had taken place in Autopsy just a few hours ago…
How did this happen? You were supposed to save her…
I'm sorry for your loss…
Not yet, you're not. This isn't over…
Gibbs barely managed to control his anger as a voice on the other end answered.
"DiNozzo."
"I need you back at the Yard, now," he barked as he headed for the exit with Ducky on his heels.
"Boss? What's going on?"
"Call Ziva and have her meet you here. I need the two of you to track down Lieutenant Zickert."
"Zickert? Why? What happened?"
"McGee's been shot."
There was dead silence for a few seconds. "Boss, is he-?"
"In surgery. We're on our way to check on him."
"How bad?"
"He was Med-Evac'd to Suburban's Trauma Unit."
A pause. "Bad."
"Yeah. Get a move on, Tony. We need to find the son of a bitch that did this."
"On my way, Boss."
XXX
The drive back to the Yard was silent.
Ziva had not said a word since the two of them had climbed into Tony's car and left the restaurant where the two of them had been having a late dinner and discussing their teammate. To hear that said teammate had been seriously injured while they were relaxing had been painful, like a knife in Tony's gut, and he didn't think he'd forget the expression that had surfaced in Ziva's eyes any time soon. The fact that she hadn't insisted on driving gave further evidence to her distress, but Tony had been unable to broach the subject which occupied both of their thoughts, and he had lapsed into silence as soon as they were on the road.
They retrieved the Lieutenant's file and headed for his residence in Quantico, still unable to openly discuss McGee's situation. Tony tried to tell himself that his probie would be fine and that Gibbs' standing order to them all that they weren't allowed to die would be followed by the younger man. They'd find the Lieutenant, get him to confess, and then they could focus on helping McGee recover. Tony didn't want to admit how worried he was for McGee. He understood that he was in denial, but he also knew there wasn't really anything he could do about it.
When they reached the lieutenant's house the lights were out and the driveway was empty. If the lieutenant had attacked McGee, he was likely on the run and had chosen to vanish rather than return home to avoid suspicion.
"He could be at the hospital with his wife," Ziva said softly, the first words she had spoken since they had left the restaurant. Just as she finished, headlights pieced the night and they saw a car approach, which soon slowed and turned into the driveway.
Tony and Ziva climbed out and waited for the driver, who soon emerged and turned in their direction.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Lieutenant Zickert? NCIS. We need to speak to you."
"What do you want?" he asked as he slammed the car door and headed for the front steps of the house.
"Where were you tonight?" asked Tony as he followed the lieutenant, his hand on his service weapon. The man turned and glared, nearly shaking with anger.
"Where was I? At the hospital, with my…" His voiced cracked. "With my wife. I went there as soon as I left NCIS, and… I needed to tell Liz…" The man's face twisted with grief. "She's gone. My family is gone."
The man's anguish was palpable, and Tony's instincts told him it wasn't an act. "I'm sorry for your loss-"
"I don't want apologies from any of you. If you had done your job… Just get the hell out of here. Now!"
Tony glanced at Ziva who nodded in understanding. They climbed back in the sedan, but Tony didn't start the engine.
"We should check at the hospital," Ziva said softly. "And then we may go check on McGee."
Tony could only nod in agreement as he turned the key in the ignition. The engine roared to life, and he guided the sedan back towards the gate entrance.
XXX
As soon as they arrived at Suburban Hospital, Gibbs and Ducky found the ER and searched for the information desk. The nurse on duty informed them that McGee was still in surgery, and Ducky volunteered to go get more information from the doctors while Gibbs was directed to the waiting area. He found the small room, occupied by another man who looked up as he arrived.
"Are you Gibbs?"
"Yeah. Who are you?"
The man stood and held out his hand. "Sheriff Alan Lurquin. I was waiting to transfer the evidence into our custody when I overheard the nurse talking to you. Recognized your name. NCIS, right?"
Gibbs took the offered hand and gave is a quick shake. "What can you tell me?"
"One of my men found your agent on the side of County Road 30, probably only a few minutes after he'd been shot. Wasn't a robbery, since his car was still there, and his wallet and ID were still on him." A strange look crossed the sheriff's face and he lowered his voice. "My officer was out patrolling that area because this isn't the first shooting like this we've seen. I was thinking I'd have to call in the FBI before I realized this latest…victim was an agent, and well, your reputation precedes you. We'd appreciate your agency's help. I have my people at the scene now, but with this storm..."
"Not much is going to be left. What about the other cases?"
"Most recent was two weeks ago, and the other was three weeks before that. They all happened on nights where there were bad storms in the area."
"I'll need to speak to the other victims."
"Unfortunately they were both dead at the scene, found the next morning. I'll contact our local lab about having the evidence transferred to your agency, and I'll get the autopsy reports sent over as well. We haven't had a lot to go on so far. Frustrating as hell."
"I'll send my people to supervise the transfer. Anything else you can tell me?"
"No connect between the first two victims that we've been able to find, but maybe your agent will add another piece to the puzzle. One big question we haven't answered was why they were pulled over in the first place. The other two men weren't local, just passing through as far as we can tell. Any idea why your man was out there?"
"Not yet." Gibbs heard the sounds of footsteps and turned to see Ducky walking toward them, his expression grave. "How is he, Duck?"
"They're still trying to stop the bleeding. Timothy has had two transfusions already, and they are running low so I am headed off to donate blood. We're the same type."
"Can I help?"
"I'm afraid not, since you are neither Timothy's blood type nor a universal donor. I've called Mr. Palmer to come and donate as well, since he is. Unfortunately none of the rest of the team can help either."
"How bad off is McGee?"
"Well, the good news is that the bullets missed both his spine and his heart, but unfortunately they did cause a great deal of internal damage. At this point all we can do is wait for the surgeons to do their job. Now I must get downstairs to the blood bank. The doctors have promised to let us know of his chances as soon as they know."
"I hate waiting," Gibbs muttered as Ducky walked off and Lurquin winced in sympathy.
"I understand. Listen, I'm going to go make sure the evidence from your agent gets transferred to you. I really hope he pulls through, Agent Gibbs. He might be the best chance we have of catching this bastard."
"Thanks."
Lurquin left as Gibbs sat down in one of the hard plastic chairs and sat back to wait, hoping that McGee's injuries weren't as bad as he feared.
XXX
Tim felt as if he'd stepped off a cliff. The impossible yet horrifyingly familiar face that had haunted his dreams was staring back at him, the hint of a smile now visible in sharp contrast to hatred Tim had always imagined that this man would feel towards him.
"Lieutenant B-Benedict?"
The man's smile grew and he nodded. "Call me Benny. Or John, if you prefer. Mind if I call you Tim?"
"B-but…you're dead." He glanced around, unsure of what other horrors he would see, but the bar was empty. "Am I dead?"
"Not exactly, no. Now sit down, have a drink. This one's on me."
"Y-you…you w-want me to drink w-with you… But I killed you!"
"Yes, I want you to sit down and drink with me, and no, you didn't kill me." A dark look crossed his face. "That was my no-good bastard of a partner…ex-partner."
"I…I'm dreaming."
"That's zero for three, kid. Probably should quit while you're ahead. No, you're not dreaming, and you're not dead, but you're not exactly alive, either. You're here with me now because we need to talk. Sit."
Tim slowly walked to the bar and, after another glance at Benedict, carefully pulled out one of the stools and sat down. Benedict slid a glass over in front of him and filled it from a bottle that had been resting on the bar in front of the former detective. Tim stared at the glass and Benedict chuckled. "It's not poison, I promise."
Tim picked up the glass and took a cautious sip, his eyebrows rising in surprise when he recognized the taste. "It's water."
"Hey, I was an alcoholic and swore off the stuff in life. What makes you think I'd want to go back down that road again?"
"I, uh…" Finally something Benedict had said earlier registered. "What do you mean, I didn't kill you? We could never tell which bullet was the fatal shot, and—"
"You think I wouldn't know? I'm dead, of course I know who killed me! And it wasn't you." He studied Tim for a minute. "But that is something we need to discuss. You've been carrying that guilt for way too long, Tim. It's time to let it go."
"B-but…if I hadn't been there, yelled at you, then…"
"Archer would have shot me and left me in that alley. Probably would have gotten away with it, too." Benedict downed the rest of his drink and turned to face Tim. "You were doing your job. End of story. Now, there are a few other things we need to talk about, and there are a few things I need to show you. Finish your drink and we'll get started."
Tim picked up the glass again and poured the rest of the water into his mouth, swallowing as he set the glass back on the counter.
"Better?"
Tim managed a small nod, and then shook his head. "Where am I?"
"Not sure what its official name would be. I suspect you'd probably call it 'Limbo', but that's not really right, either. It's a half-way point between life and death, and you'll have to decide, eventually, which direction you'll ultimately go."
Tim felt a chill down his spine. "So…last night, when I stopped to help that woman, she…?"
"Yep, but that's not your concern. Your team will handle that. That's their job, after all."
Tim glanced around but they were still alone. "I'm sorry, but this is just…"
"Hard to accept? I can imagine. But what matters is that you listen to what I have to say…and learn from what I show you."
"Show me?"
Benedict clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on kid, let's go for a walk." He rose from his seat and headed towards the door, and after a moment's hesitation, Tim followed. As they were leaving, Tim noticed that the juke box had changed songs, and he heard the last few lines as the door closed behind them.
And if you listen very hard
The tune will come to you at last
When all are one and one is all, yeah
To be a rock and not to roll
TBC…
Lyrics are Stairway to Heaven, by Led Zeppelin ;)
Some of you may recognize the name of the town near where Tim was found, and yes, Tony will be making a comment about it.
