Through a Glass, Darkly
A/N: This has been percolating for a while, so it's headed in a slightly different direction. I'll be working a case file into the story, which will have an important part to play for all of those involved.
As this story was started long before Baltimore and Squall, it is very divergent from canon at this point.
Chapter 6
Jenny stepped off the elevator and was surprised to see Gibbs waiting near her office. Bracing herself for whatever issue he would be bringing her, she started towards her office with a stiff smile on her face. She walked past Gibbs into her office, knowing he would follow, and sat down at her desk before acknowledging his presence.
"Agent Gibbs. To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"McGee woke up. Last night."
Jenny's eyebrows shot up in surprise but she maintained her veneer of professionalism.
"That's wonderful news. How is he doing?"
"I want him back on my team. I need your word on that, Jen."
"Jethro, that young man has just awoken from a year-long coma. You have no idea if he will even be able to… walk again, much less pass the requirements to be a field agent."
"He will. On both counts."
"Why? Because you told him so?"
"No. Because that's what he needs to do. He's already lost his family. He needs this, Jen."
"His father is still alive, isn't he?"
"Yeah, and he abandoned him."
"It was my understanding that Captain McGee had a job to do and he found the best situation for his son, considering the circumstances. Have you contacted him?"
"Last night. He knows McGee is awake. It didn't sound like he planned on coming back here any time soon."
"Well, he is in the middle of a mission. I'm sure you can understand that." Gibbs said nothing, although she could see his anger simmering below the surface. She sighed. "Very well. If McGee recovers to the point where he can pass the required fitness tests, then I will be happy to expedite the paperwork so that he can return to your team."
"When."
"I imagine that will depend on—"
"Not if, Jen. When. He'll make it, as long as he has a goal, he'll get back to where he should be."
"I admire your confidence, Jethro, but the fact remains that we shall have to wait and see. Just make sure you don't complicate his recovery by pushing him too hard. You need to be realistic in your expectations and give him the time to properly recover. Is that understood?"
"Yes, ma'am."
She chose to ignore his sarcastic tone. "Good. Is there anything else?"
"No."
"Very well. Thank you for informing me of McGee's status."
Gibbs just nodded and left the office as Jenny breathed a sigh of relief. She had seen how much McGee's condition had affected Gibbs and his team, even though none of them would admit it, and she hoped that this would ease some of the tension she had seen in them over the past year. They needed some good news, for once.
Her phone rang and she left out another sigh before reaching to answer it. It was time to get back to work.
XXX
Ziva hung up Gibbs' phone just as he reached the bottom step and gave her a questioning look.
"That was dispatch," she began. "A Marine corporal has gone missing."
"And?"
"Elana Brody. Twenty-one years old, blond hair, blue eyes, five-foot-three inches tall. The base commander has already started a search, so we may know more when we get there."
"Damn it," he growled and marched to his desk to retrieve his gun. He turned to yell at the rest of the team and saw that he and Ziva were alone.
"Where's DiNozzo?"
"He called a few minutes ago. Metro needs him to clarify a few things from last night. I will tell him to meet us there."
"And Powers?"
"Here," the man called as he walked towards the bullpen from the elevator and checked his watch. "I'm not late, I am?"
"Call out." Gibbs threw the keys to him. "Gas the truck."
"Sure, Gibbs. Where are we going?"
"Quantico," Ziva replied. "Missing Marine."
"Is this like the others?"
"It looks that way."
"Damn…"
"Get moving. We'll meet you there."
"Got it."
He left and Gibbs headed for the elevator with Ziva on his heels.
When they arrived on the base, they were directed to an office where three young female corporals waited, the last three people to see the missing woman.
"Tell me what happened," Gibbs ordered as soon as they were seated. Corporal Markham, a tall brunette with hazel eyes and thin, pale features spoke first.
"It was our last night of a three-day liberty leave. We all went out to dinner off-base to celebrate El…Corporal Brody's birthday, and after dinner she said she needed to stop by and visit with her great aunt Meg before she returned to base."
"I spoke to Margaret Brody this morning, once we realized Corporal Brody had not returned," their Master Sergeant explained. "She says that Corporal Brody left around 2200 to take the bus back to base."
"Address?" The Master Sergeant handed Gibbs a slip of paper, which he gave to Ziva. "You and Powers go interview Mrs. Brody. And see if you can find the bus driver that would have picked her up."
"Yes, Gibbs." After they left, he returned his attention to the three women.
"Did you notice anything strange about Brody's behavior last night?"
"No sir," replied DeJorge, a petite olive-skinned woman with short black hair and brown eyes. "She was acting normal. Happy."
"How much did she have to drink?"
"Just one beer," said Jackson, a stocky woman with caramel-colored skin, curly light brown hair and pale hazel eyes. "She wasn't going to drink at all, but since she just turned legal…"
"We persuaded her to let loose a little," DeJorge finished.
"Did you notice anyone paying special attention to her?" The three exchanged glances. "What?"
"We thought a car was following us as we walked to the bus stop. It drove past once we got there, but…after Elana got on the bus, I thought I saw it pull out and follow," Markham replied, looking extremely worried.
"Description?"
"A dark sedan. Black or dark blue, I think…not that old. Virginia tag." She scrunched her eyes together as she tried to remember the plate number. "I think it had an R and a T. I didn't get a good look. No front plate, I remember that."
"Did you get a look at the driver?"
"Pretty sure it was a guy, but he was wearing a hoodie or something. I couldn't see his face."
"This is like those other cases, isn't it?" Jackson asked. "Those four women who were murdered." She paled. "Elana looks like those women. Is she…?"
"We don't know yet," Gibbs replied, although he knew all too well that what they were thinking could be true. "We're just trying to get enough information to find her."
"Alive?"
Before Gibbs could reply, the radio the Master Sergeant had clipped to his belt crackled to life. He excused himself and stepped outside to answer.
"Is this our fault, Agent Gibbs? We let her go off alone, and—"
"No. We'll find out what happened, but right now we need as much information as you can give us." They all looked at each other and nodded. Before Gibbs could continue his questions, the Master Sergeant returned and his expression sent a chill through the room.
"Agent Gibbs, the local sheriff just called. He needs to see you immediately."
"Sir, have they found—"
"We don't know for certain. Not yet."
The women said nothing but Gibbs could clearly see the devastation in their expressions. He felt his own anger take over. They needed to catch this son-of-a-bitch, and soon.
"Where is the sheriff?"
"Ten miles outside the main gate. I'll have one of my men escort you."
Gibbs nodded and went outside, unsurprised to see that Tony had finally arrived and was waiting for him.
"What do we got, Boss?"
"Missing Marine, now maybe not missing. Come on." They followed a corpsman to a nearby jeep and climbed in. After they had passed through the gates the driver made a left and headed away from the base, out into the less populated countryside. After the expected distance had been covered they saw a group of police cars parked on the shoulder of the highway. The driver guided the jeep over behind the group of cars, waiting for Gibbs and Tony to get out before catching Gibbs' attention.
"Do you need me to wait, sir?"
"No. We'll get a ride back with one of the LEOs." The corpsman saluted and drove off.
Gibbs and Tony approached the group of local police officer and were directed to a spot about 500 yards off the highway. A packed gravel road went past the spot so they followed until they reached another small group of grim-faced men.
"Sheriff?" One of the men turned, his expression stormy.
"You need to catch this bastard, Gibbs."
"Tell me what you found."
The sheriff just pointed to a now-familiar scene. The missing Marine lay on her back in a ditch, completely naked, her arms and legs outstretched and there was a large gash in her throat. The body was clean, with no blood in evidence. Her clothes were neatly folded and stacked a few feet away.
"Looks like she was dumped here. No tracks, no prints, nothing. This guy is a ghost," the sheriff declared, receiving a glare from Gibbs.
"No, he's human. And he'll make a mistake. They all do."
"Yeah, and how many girls will he kill before he makes that mistake?"
Gibbs said nothing and the sheriff finally left the two agents alone.
"Almost wish we could get McGee here," muttered Tony. "He seems to be able to figure things out."
"McGee doesn't need you making that public," growled Gibbs. "We need to accept that it was a one-time thing, and he needs to get back to normal."
"Got it. No talking about McMaybePsychic. What do you want me to do, Boss?"
"Get Ziva and Powers here, then start searching the area." He looked down at the broken body of the victim and sighed. "Guess I need to call Ducky."
XXX
As he stepped through the doors of Mercy Crest, Ducky felt a twinge of guilt when he realized that it has been at least two months since he had been there. He had tried to make regular visits, as a show of support to the other members of Gibbs' team if nothing else, but he had from the beginning agreed with McGee's doctors that the chances of Timothy regaining consciousness were slim at best. He was happy that the young man had proven them all wrong, but he was also aware of the challenges that Timothy faced in his recovery and rehabilitation.
After meeting with the team and listening to their firm believe that Timothy had gained a disturbing new ability after his awakening, Ducky had been understandably skeptical. He wasn't convinced that Timothy's 'predictions' were anything more that coincidence, or a result of his absorbing information while in the coma and synthesizing it into something that made sense to the people who witnessed it. He finally decided that he needed to see for himself how the young man was processing information and made the trip to Mercy Crest the following morning.
Ducky signed in at the reception desk and made his way to McGee's room. He stopped just outside the door to mentally prepare himself for the encounter before stepping through the doorway with a smile. He immediately saw that Timothy was asleep and he took a few minutes to study him, wincing at what he observed.
Before his accident, Timothy had looked younger than he was, but his time in a coma had robbed him of the extra baby fat in his cheeks and chin, making him appear much older than someone close to entering their third decade. The streak of white at his temple and the pallor of his skin gave him a washed-out appearance. He looked like a man that was barely on the road to recovery, and that whatever trip he was planning to make down that road would be slow and painful.
Ducky walked up to the head of McGee's bed and leaned into his line of sight so that he would be greeted by a friendly face if he was able to open his eyes.
"Timothy?"
He turned towards the sound of Ducky's voice, his eyelids slowly parting. Finally they opened all the way, revealing brilliant green eyes, seemingly darker than Ducky remembered, and they were a stark contrast to the paleness of his face.
"D-ducky?"
"Yes, lad. How are you feeling?"
He seemed to consider that for several moments before responding.
"Tired. Weak. What…happened to me, Ducky? Why can't I…I can barely move. Why?"
Ducky paused for a moment before deciding that of anyone, he was probably the best person to break the news to McGee.
"You were in an accident, Timothy. It's taken a long time for you to reach this point in your recovery."
"H-how long?"
"Long enough, I'm afraid. What do you remember?"
McGee's gaze shifted as he tried to retrieve those memories. "I…got on the bus. I was going to work…and then nothing. What happened?"
"Someone placed a bomb on that bus, Timothy, and when it went off…"
What little color McGee had vanished. "Oh, God… How…did anyone else get hurt?"
"You were the only survivor."
"No…" The look on McGee's face nearly broke Ducky's heart.
"The perpetrator was caught, and he will never be able to hurt anyone else, ever again."
"But why? Why would someone… It was a terrorist attack?"
"Domestic terrorist, with an ill-defined set of goals in mind. He was not after you specifically, though. Erase that thought from your mind."
"All those people…how many?"
"Fifty one people, from the bus and the surrounding cars that were hit when the bus driver lost control. It was a terrible tragedy, to be sure."
The devastation McGee was feeling was plain. "Why…did I survive? Why me?"
"I can't answer that, Timothy. Perhaps it was simply not your time." He placed a comforting hand on McGee's arm and Tim closed his eyes, clearly trying to reign in his emotions. Suddenly his eyes snapped open and he stared at Ducky in horror.
"A whole year? I've been…in a coma…for an entire year?"
"Yes, Timothy. I take it you were aware…" Ducky noticed that Tim was no longer looking at him, but whatever he was seeing was filling him with dread. Ducky glanced over his shoulder in the direction of McGee's gaze, but they were alone.
"My family…"
Ducky sighed. He hadn't wanted to break this news.
"Timothy, I am sorry, but—"
"Dead?" he whispered. "My mother and sister…they're dead?"
Ducky felt an inexplicable chill creep down his spine but tried to shake off the feeling. He must have heard that, somehow…
"I'm afraid so. They were—"
"Killed by a drunk driver. Hit and run…never caught him, did they?"
"No."
"And my father…he…" A tear slipped down McGee's cheek. "He abandoned me. He thought I'd never…"
"He believed what the doctors told him. That's all. If he had known, I truly believe he wouldn't have left you."
Tim looked up at Ducky and the older man was startled by what he was seeing. Timothy's eyes were…strange. Ducky felt as if the young man's gaze was boring straight through him. Finally the spell was broken by the ringing of Ducky's cell phone. He reached his free hand into his pocket to remove the device.
"Yes, Jethro? I see. Yes, I will be there as soon as I can." He ended the call and returned his attention to McGee.
"I am afraid that duty calls, Timothy. I hope that circumstances allow me to visit again, soon."
"OK. Ducky?"
"Yes, lad?"
"It wasn't your fault."
"What wasn't my fault?"
"Javid."
Ducky felt for a moment as though the floor had opened beneath him. It took him several moments before he managed to regain his mental footing.
"Timothy, how do you know that name?"
McGee didn't seem to have heard him as he continued to stare off into space. Finally he spoke.
"Javid didn't know anything. He knew he didn't know anything. He was using him to get to you. To stop your interference. He didn't want you to ruin his plans."
"Who?" Ducky whispered. "Who are you—"
"They called him Mr. Pain. It was supposed to be ironic. He couldn't feel pain himself, so he made sure others did. That was his job: to torture. But he wasn't just torturing the villagers. He wasn't just torturing Javid. He was torturing you."
Without realizing what he was doing Ducky backed away from the bed, breaking his contact with McGee. Timothy blinked and a look of confusion, then fear crossed his face.
"Ducky, what…how did I see…I don't…. Ducky, what's happening to me?"
It took Ducky several moments to respond.
"I…honestly don't know, Timothy. I really don't."
"But…"
"Timothy." He leaned in and spoke in a low voice. "Whatever this was, I think it's best if—"
"Don't tell anyone. What I saw. I won't. I promise." Hi eyes were panicked, and Ducky wanted to calm him with his touch…but he couldn't bring himself to do it.
"We will figure it out. In the meantime…"
McGee's energy quickly started to fade. "I'm really tired, Ducky."
Ducky managed a smile. "Then rest, lad. It will get better."
"OK… I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault, Timothy."
McGee didn't respond and Ducky to see that he had fallen asleep, clearly exhausted by whatever it was he had just done. He watched the sleeping man for a few minutes before finally deciding that it was time to leave. He still had a job to do, after all.
As he was leaving, Ducky's mind was on McGee's words, statements that had stirred extremely painful memories he thought he had long ago buried. Was what Timothy had said true? Was he really able to be absolved of the crime that had haunted his dreams for decades? And the most important question: how had Timothy known about the darkest period of his life? It was a mystery that most definitely needed to be solved.
But how?
TBC…
