Chapter 9
At first glance, they thought it was simply a dummy. A doll, dressed all in black. ...and in a sense it was. A twisted, horrible sense.
It was a corpse. Any of the obvious injuries on it would have been fatal...eventually. Taken all together... The skull was crushed. There were signs of strangulation. The chest had a caved in quality that said the ribs had been broken...probably the sternum as well. The face was...hardly a face anymore. Even Ziva looked sickened by the sight.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"God have mercy," the EMT said quietly.
Gibbs couldn't help silently agreeing. Just what they could see was bad enough. There was scarcely an inch of Tim's torso that was not bruised or cut...or burned. There were small paired indentations all over him. Tasers burns. The cuts were infected, crusted with old blood.
Tim wasn't unconscious. In fact, his one eye was fixed on Gibbs, as if he feared that he would disappear.
"McGee, what..."
Tim's eye closed. He took a deep breath, opened his eye and stared at Gibbs again.
"I'm just going to start treating your injuries, Tim."
Tim made absolutely no reaction. He just stared.
Gibbs never had much to say...except when he got angry...but now, he wished he could think of something to say. He rather doubted there were any words that could make Tim feel any better.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
The room was long and narrow, the walls marked with occasional niches. There wasn't much else in it besides the corpse. It was all in black, but the clothes were ripped and torn...much like Tim's had been. The room smelled. It was the stench of decaying flesh.
"How much time do you think he was in here?"
"Too long," Ziva said and walked farther inside. She knelt beside the corpse. "Tony..."
"Yeah, it's gross."
"No. That is not it."
"What?"
Ziva looked up. "I mean...yes, it is gross, but I am not certain that McGee killed this man."
"He says he did," Tony said, in a tone that said he was willing to be convinced otherwise.
"McGee has also been missing for two weeks under circumstances shown here. He is not able to be clear enough to trust. Now, come and look!"
Reluctantly, Tony joined her at the battered body. It wasn't that he hadn't seen as bad or worse before. He just didn't like seeing the results of Tim's handiwork.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"Tim, I want you to follow my finger with your...eye."
The finger moved. Tim's eye did not. He stared straight ahead, to where Gibbs was standing just behind the doctor.
"McGee, do what he says."
Gibbs hadn't expected a response, but he got one.
"Why?"
"He's making sure you're okay." ...which you're not, but we won't talk about that part of it.
"Okay."
The doctor moved his finger again and this time, Tim's eye followed it...slowly. After the test was completed, Gibbs was surprised to see a small smile on Tim's face. It was a rather twisted smile...and would have been even if his face hadn't been hamburger, but it was at least an expression.
"So...am I okay? Did the magic finger demonstrate my continued survival?"
The doctor smiled a little uncomfortably. "You have a minor concussion, Tim, but even though it appears that you've had a few different knocks pretty recently, you're not doing too badly."
"Thanks for that," Tim said. He began clenching his fist. Open. Close. Open. Close. He swallowed and his body began to tense up.
"Doc?"
"Yes, Agent Gibbs?"
Gibbs was looking at Tim's hand. "I think you should back off just a bit."
"What?"
"McGee, you all right?"
"Why do you keep asking that?" Tim shouted suddenly. A moment before he had seemed semi-comatose. Now, his strange energy has resurged. "Do I look all right to you? Would you be all right?" He leapt off the bench.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"We found him, Ducky," Tony said...but his voice was not exactly excited about it.
Abby sat up straight and grabbed Ducky's arm.
"That is wonderful news, Tony."
"Where is he?" Abby asked, eagerly.
"He's...probably at the Lancaster Hospital. They'll be transferring him closer later...but...right now."
"How badly is he injured?"
A long pause. "Bad enough, but not too serious, I don't think. He looked pretty bad. Ducky...we're going to need you to come out here. We have a body for you to process."
"What body?" Abby asked.
"I don't know who...he was, Abbs," Tony said, but his words were a cover for something. Even Abby could tell that much, and it frightened her enough that she didn't ask him to elaborate.
"Very well. Send us the location and Mr. Palmer and I will set out."
"Thanks, Ducky. Soon as you can."
"Wait, Tony! What about Tim?" Abby shouted.
"He's alive, Abbs. He was...fighting when we found him...and...and I need to get back to work, Abbs." There was a click.
"He hung up! He hung up on us, Ducky!"
"Yes, that would seem to be the case. I believe I should prepare to leave."
Ducky stood and walked back to the elevator. Abby sat down and, almost against her will, she pulled up the photos documenting Dallon's injuries. She knew what was required to create them.
...and she knew who had done it...
"He was fighting," she whispered.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Gibbs caught Tim as his body slowly collapsed, turning an attack into a fall.
The doctor hurried forward to help ease Tim back onto the table, horizontally this time.
"We need to get him to X-ray. ...maybe it would be best if we left him unconscious for it?"
"He's not crazy, but he's had a rough couple of weeks. He just needs the time to adjust to the shift." Gibbs said the words but he wasn't sure if he was right.
"Mmm-hmmm..."
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
They were beginning to split up. Now, he had to decide which ones he would track. He dismissed the women without a thought. Craven, he might be, but he didn't think he could hit a woman...unless she hit him first.
He picked out two of the men. One of them had been the head, beginning the whole horror show. He'd go down first. The other looked weak...a bean counter...someone who had never really descended from the ivory tower and experienced how bloody the world can be.
That would change.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"You did not tell them," Ziva said. It wasn't an accusation, just a statement.
"No. No, I didn't." He began documenting the room.
"Do you think that is the best course of action?"
"Until I can think about it without wanting to puke, yes."
Ziva didn't respond.
"You think that's a mistake, huh."
"Well, it is...it will not make what happened not have happened, Tony."
"Until I hear McGee say it himself...when he's in his right mind and speaking in complete sentences, then I can pretend that it's not true."
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"He'll be groggy for a while. That was a nasty knock he got. Hairline fractures all around the orbital. He's lucky that the vitreous didn't leak into his sinus cavity."
That sounded unpleasant.
"What about when he wakes up?"
"As soon as we're sure there are no other major problems, we'll arrange for transfer to Bethesda. His injuries, while numerous, are not life-threatening."
That was apparently supposed to be a good thing.
"That's not what worries me."
"Yes, well...I'm sure the staff at Bethesda will be better equipped to deal with any other repercussions."
He wanted to curl into a ball and hide from the world. He wanted to pretend that his memory of being rescued was real...or better yet, that his memories of the last...span of time were all a dream...a nightmare. That would be better than facing the fact that he'd have to fight again. Since he was alive, he must have won.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Ducky looked at the house.
"Are you sure this is the correct address, Mr. Palmer?"
"You're the one who gave it to me, Dr. Mallard. I can't see any other place."
A man stepped out of the house. "You the NCIS guy?"
"I suppose I would answer to that description, yes."
"Great. This way. We've got the FBI ME headed in for a couple of other bodies we found, but I guess you have to keep your own stuff in house. We would do the same." The man was nearly babbling...and he wasn't a newbie. "Your area is going to be back this way, across the first lawn."
"The first la–?" Ducky's question trailed off into nothing when he saw the houses sprinkled here and there across a vast open space.
"The first lawn."
"They're all connected by tunnels. No one had to come outside if they didn't want to. Don't know why it's designed this way, but it is."
"And we are across the first lawn?"
"Yes. This house here. Well, that's using the term loosely. A house implies some sort of comfort...and these places. They don't have them. Not at all." The man paused and stared at another house.
"You found others?"
"Yeah. Seven others who were alive...using the term loosely. One of them was a woman. She started screaming when we came in, convinced that we were going to..." He stopped talking. "Anyway. This is where you'll be. Take a deep breath. It doesn't smell very good in there." Then, he turned and walked away.
Jimmy looked at Ducky with a little bit of apprehension.
"Doctor?"
"Yes...yes...Mr. Palmer, let us confront the unknown. Things are usually better that way...although I tend to think that in this case, it is a case of reality being worse than what can be imagined."
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"He's in here? He's right in here?"
"Abby, calm down."
"Calm down? Calm down?! Tim is in there and you're telling me to calm down?"
"Yes. Calm down. He's still asleep and the last thing he needs is you being like this."
Tim heard them. He was not asleep, but Gibbs was right. He didn't want to see Abby. Actually, he didn't want to see any of them. Since awakening a few minutes ago, his memory sharp and clear as ever, he had a growing desire to get away from them all. He didn't want to be laying here on this bed, being cared for. He wanted to be... He didn't know what he wanted, but he knew what he didn't want.
"Fine, Gibbs. I'm calm. I want to see him. I want to know that he's okay."
"Abbs...he's not."
No, I'm not.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"Well?" Tony asked.
Ducky didn't reply. Instead, he continued his preliminary examination.
"No sign of rigor. Lividity is complete. Skin is cool to the touch, body temperature has reached that of the room, perhaps, slightly cooler."
"There is a fridge through that door," Ziva said softly. "It is a large fridge...and empty, although I found some blood in it."
Ducky nodded.
"Ducky...did he do it?" Tony asked.
"Anthony, you and Gibbs both know that I dislike being forced to give a conclusion before conducting my full examination," Ducky said with some heat...but then, he sighed. "However, under the circumstances, I suppose I can understand your desire for information. I don't know...but I would guess that Timothy did not kill this man. However, the number of injuries present on this body means that I will not guess on cause of death. That will have to wait until I get him home. Mr. Palmer, whenever you're ready."
"Yes, Doctor." Jimmy looked at the body and tried to feel something about it...and found that he didn't. That was slightly disconcerting...even more than knowing that it was likely the damage done to the corpse had been done by Tim. That was wrong, but it didn't bother him as much as this affliction of apathy. He'd never been squeamish about bodies, not at any time in his life, but he'd usually felt something. He swallowed and got to work.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
The eyes were the worst part. You could always tell when someone shifted from living to dead by looking at the eyes. No matter how much they might have stared blankly before death, when someone was dead, there was a different look. ...and before they died, seconds before their lives ended, they knew it was happening...and whatever idea they had about the nature of death was reflected in their eyes.
The first man's eyes had been crazy up until that last moment. Death had come as a sweet release. His eyes had been brown.
The second man had been afraid...the whole time. Every moment the fight had lasted he had been terrified and when death came in on him, delivered by Tim's hands, he had been more frightened still. He had been one of those people with different colored eyes. One blue. One hazel.
The Marine had looked Tim in the eye the whole time. He had never looked away...not until his eyes had closed with that motion, that head-smashing motion. His eyes had been green. They had been large, expressive eyes. He hadn't feared death, but neither had he wanted it. It was just something else he had to deal with.
The eyes wouldn't leave him alone. They just wouldn't. He could see them, even though his own eyes were closed. Well, one was closed because he had no other option. The other was closed in an attempt to make reality go away.
What he really wanted to do was not allowed because he couldn't let them see how much it bothered him. He couldn't let them know that every breath, every moment he remained alive was a breath and a moment he shouldn't have.
I'm a murderer.
