Ducky and Gibbs entered the elevator. Ducky pressed the button for autopsy, and as it started its descent, Gibbs flipped the emergency switch, "Go," He said to Ducky.
"I don't have to ask whether or not you all were watching from the-"
"Of course we were, Ducky. What about Tim?" Gibbs asked impatiently. He couldn't afford to waste time with small talk.
"He's declining, fast. Faster than I thought he would."
"Yes, I can tell, but why?"
"Knowing Timothy, he probably has a fear of being buried alive, or trapped. That could make it a lot worse for him than it would be for someone without that fear."
"No one would want to be buried alive, Duck."
"Well, I know that Jethro, but there is a big difference between not wanting something and being afraid of it. No one wants to be bitten by a snake, but some people don't fear it. Those who fear snakes react very differently around them then those who just don't want to be bitten by one."
Gibbs placed his hand on his forehead, "I don't know what I'm supposed to do, Ducky. I've never been like that before. I don't even know what to tell Tony or Ziva to look for. I'm not gonna get anything from Trevor. All I can really do is wait for the people in cyber-crimes to get through the maze, wall, whatever it is, thing."
"Have they checked to see if any of Timothy's neighbors saw anyone leaving his apartment? Or why did no one hear them fighting? From what I heard the entire apartment was destroyed."
Gibbs sighed, "Tony and Ziva called all of his neighbors. All but two of them were gone at the time, one told Ziva he was so drunk that he couldn't have heard his grandma calling him from heaven. The other one is deaf. No one saw anything either."
"Jethro, even if you get Timothy out before… things become too serious," Ducky began, choosing his words carefully, "I fear that the emotional damage will have already been done."
Gibbs took a deep breath, "This just keeps gettin' better and better."
Ziva was typing away at her computer, yet she wasn't really focused on her work. She kept looking over at Tony, who seemed to just be staring off into space.
"Should you not be doing something, Tony?" Ziva asked.
"Like what?"
"Like trying to find McGee."
"You know just as well as I do that all we can do is wait for Derek and company to figure out his location."
Ziva shrugged, "So, what, you are just going to sit and do absolutely nothing?"
"I'm not doing nothing. I'm thinking."
"About?"
"You know what about."
"Thinking about helping Tim is not going to help Tim," Ziva replied.
"Actually, I was thinking about ways to torture and kill Trevor."
Ziva looked intrigued, "And what did you come up with?"
"Well, in one scenario I hang him by his feet and then swing him back and forth until he vomits and then chokes on it, dying in the process. Then the other one is tying him to a chair and forcing him to watch Staying Alive until he can't take it any more and begs me to kill him… Those are my most creative ones."
"Those are good… although I have never seen Staying Alive."
"It's the horribly awful sequel of Saturday Night Fever."
Ziva's eyebrows furrowed, "Does it have something to do with a mass breakout of some disease?"
"I wish."
Ziva got up from her desk and walked over to Tony, "Gibbs should not have told McGee that he had a knife with him."
"Oh yeah? What should he have said?"
"He could have made something up."
"Yeah, so then when Tim took the cover off of the knife and cut himself he would have realized Gibbs was lying, and then he would really believe he had no chance of getting out of there. That's a good idea."
"He might not have bothered it anymore. Then he never would have known."
Tony sighed, "He would have figured it out eventually, Zee."
"Do you think he would do it?"
"Do what?"
"You know what I am talking about, Tony."
"Are you asking whether or not I think that Tim will slice himself from ear to ear?"
Ziva lowered her head, "Never mind. I should not have asked." She turned around and headed back to her desk.
"Ziva," Tony called out, stopping her.
She turned back around, "Yes?"
"I don't know. Before seeing McGee this time, I would have said no way… But now, I don't know."
Ziva nodded, "I still wish I would not have asked."
"Yeah… and I wish none of us would be wondering the same thing you asked."
Derek came into the bullpen, "Where is Gibbs?" He asked.
"Right here," Gibbs said as he walked in.
"Just an update. We haven't gotten through the maze yet, but I think I can stop the time clock the next time the feed starts up. Don't ask me how because you wouldn't understand it. I just wanted you to know."
"We'll be able to be with him constantly then?"
Derek nodded, "Yes sir. Just let me know when the feed starts up and I'll get to work. Until then, I'm gonna go work on the maze."
Tim banged on the top of the box. It seemed to be all that he knew how to do anymore to get him to stop thinking about the knife.
"Just keep making noise, Tim," He said to himself, "Someone will hear you. They'll get help. You'll be dug up, and you'll be out of here in no time."
He began to laugh, "That's so stupid. No one's going to find me. Why would I even think that? I save up all of these high hopes when all that's going to happen is that I'm going to run out of food, and water, then I'll slowly die. If not by starvation, then by dehydration…" His laughing stopped, "Or, if I don't sleep, I'll die from not resting. How long would it take to die from lack of rest? I should know this! I can't think! I can't think in here!" He banged harder on the box, causing his already hurting hands to hurt, and bleed, even more.
The blood dripped from his hand and onto his face, causing him to stop pounding on the box. He felt the blood that lied on his cheek, "Blood. Just like if I had cut myself… You use knives to cut things. I have a knife… and no other way out. The teams says they'll get me out, but they're just saying that to make me feel better. I can hear the doubt in their voices. I'll end up here until I die a terrible, long death… I don't blame the team. I know they're trying their hardest to find me, but I don't want to be here for two weeks or longer."
Tim took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a moment, then re-opened them, "What are you thinking, Tim? You're talking to yourself, you idiot. You heard Ducky, you've only been down here for a few hours. Just a few hours and you've gone from trying to survive to trying to give yourself a reason to pick up the knife and kill yourself!… But, just think about it. Is it really killing yourself if you're gonna die anyway? Yes! Yes it is! Its only been a few hours. Give them time, Tim! Don't be weak."
He became quiet… He hated the quiet. It was horrible. Not being able to see or hear anything. There was no sense of time. Sure, he was being told that it was forty-five minutes in-between each fifteen minutes that he got to talk to the team, but to him it felt like hours. It felt like he had been trapped for days. It was the worst feeling in the world.
He raised his arms back to the top of the box and began hitting it again, "Help me!" He yelled as he began to cry, "Help me! Please, help me!"
Okay, so I'm trying to think of how I would react to being buried alive, and yet think of how I would guess Tim would react. I would go crazy within twenty minutes... probably sooner. I decided Tim would last a while longer than that. But, when you think about it, if you don't know what time it is and you're buried underground, you'd think a lot more time had gone by, right? I guess I'm doubting myself. I don't want to seem like I'm rushing his feelings of hopelessness and everything.
Please review to let me know what you think :) It'll make me smile with happiness!
