Chapter 10
"Agent Gibbs! I didn't...expect you here. I thought you'd be..." Agent Adam Saunders trailed off awkwardly. He was the probie and still at the stage of being easily intimidated.
"Have you found anything yet?"
"Um...I'm not sure. Agent Lovitz just went down to talk to Abby. She said she might have pulled something...a fingerprint or a chemical or something."
"That's not very specific."
"She wasn't very specific," Geri Weaver corrected. She was Lovitz' senior agent and had never been intimidated by Gibbs. "You know how Abby gets when she's found something. She doesn't like to do it over the phone. Lara went down with Lovitz about five minutes ago. We've been tracking down the rental information on that building. Someone was paying for it...but so far we've hit nothing."
"Thanks." Gibbs headed for the elevator.
"Agent Gibbs?"
He stopped and looked back at Adam.
"How is McGee doing?"
"He's alive...and occasionally he's even aware of reality...but that's rare."
"We're all praying for him," Geri said.
Gibbs nodded and walked to the elevator.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"Hey, Gibbs," Abby said, with a shadow of her former sparkle. "You always know when I have something. How do you do it?"
"Jethro, any good news?" Agent Lovitz asked.
"Not much, Robert. What about you?"
"Abby was just about to tell us. I hope it's something...there's been nothing to give us a clue as to who took Agent McGee or why."
"The chair has a single partial print. It must have been an accident. I've got a match...but it's from prints taken thirty years ago. They belong to a man by the name of Gary Daniel Egner. The problem is that he hasn't shown up anywhere since he was pulled over for joyriding at age eighteen. He was in the foster care system and then seems to have disappeared."
"What about his family?"
"He was taken from his mom on charges of neglect. She was a drug addict, OD-ed two years later. No other family on record. He's never been on the grid since that one arrest. No credit cards, no driver's license, not even a parking ticket. The guy doesn't seem to exist anymore."
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Swirling blackness...blank spaces...darkness...and lacing it all...pain. Neverending pain. Only the pain is there all the time. He is shaking...shaking with pain...with the cold that he only notices in the rare quiet moments. The cold from the water that cascades over his body...heralding another bout, another period of agony. ...but he doesn't cry. Tears are not allowed. Tears are punished. They do not heal. They injure. No tears...only the water coming down...only the pain...
"Timmy? Timmy? It's Sarah. Can you hear me?"
The voice was young...nervous...afraid. He opened his eyes, staring straight ahead. The lights were dim but by no means out. He was not restrained...but he was shaking uncontrollably.
"Tim? Should I call the doctor?"
He knew the voice. He did. He was sure of it. He must.
"I don't know what to do! I don't want to leave you alone, but Tim. I'm afraid. What's wrong?"
"S-Sarah?"
"Yes, Tim. I'm here."
"C-Cold. W-Water...too much w-w-water. Cold."
He felt the presence withdrawing.
"S-Sarah?"
"I'm not leaving, Tim. I'm just going to the door."
"Cold. Cold."
He heard her voice, distant and soft, almost unintelligible...but he didn't pay a whole lot of attention. He was too cold.
"Officer David?"
"What's wrong, Sarah?"
"I'm...I'm not sure. My brother...he says he's cold and wet, but...well, he's not wet. Should I get the doctor?"
"No."
"What do I do?"
"I will show you." The voices came nearer. "McGee, I am going to touch you, is that all right?"
"Ziva?"
"Yes."
"N-N-Not dead?"
"No."
Arms, warm arms around him...like fire...only soft. He didn't speak. Ziva didn't either...nor did Sarah. My sister... He remembered, knew who she was.
"Are you still cold, McGee?"
"Little."
"You see Sarah?"
"No."
"Then, look at her."
"Don't look away," he whispered.
"You may look wherever you wish. No one will hurt you."
He wasn't sure he believed her...but he decided to look anyway. It was hard, but not as hard as last time. He moved his eyes, his head, and looked. Nothing happened. Sarah was standing near him, looking nervous and concerned.
"Do you see her?"
"Yes."
"I have to leave, but she'll hold you until you get warm again."
Sarah smiled and nodded...but she still looked nervous. Slowly, she walked to him and as Ziva slipped away, she put her arms around Tim and held him close. Again, Tim didn't speak and didn't notice when Ziva left the room. Sarah didn't speak either, not for a long time. Tim didn't sleep, but as the minutes passed, he began to relax, just a little. Sarah wasn't as good as Mom but she was comforting nevertheless.
"Are you still cold, Tim?" she asked an hour later.
"No."
"Do you want to sleep?"
"Dreams. Bad dreams." Tim tried to explain why he didn't want to sleep, why it frightened him, why he was afraid to be awake, but he couldn't. The only words he could use sounded like those of a child, and he knew it. "I'm afraid of the monsters."
Sarah didn't laugh, didn't tease him for it. Instead, she leaned close to his ear and whispered, "I'll keep the monsters away this time, Tim."
A memory, a real memory from over ten years ago welled up in his mind.
"Tim? What's wrong?"
Tim tried to hide his face in the shadows of his room. He had not meant to let anyone hear him crying. No one could help this. He was just being a baby.
"Tim?" Sarah asked again and she came into the room.
"Go away, Sarah. You're supposed to be in bed."
She was almost nine, and she had watched Tim recovering from the car accident, knowing that more was bothering him than just his leg. She didn't understand all the nuances, but she knew he was afraid.
"So? Mom's with Dad. They won't know unless you tell them."
"What do you want?"
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"You're lying, Timmy. Why?" She climbed onto the bed, carefully avoiding his still-weak leg. "Tell me. I won't laugh."
"You will...because everyone would."
"No, I won't! Are you having bad dreams? Are you afraid?"
Tim was quiet for a long time. He could see Sarah's eager young face, lit up by the light from the hallway. He felt so old...and yet so young at the same time.
Finally, he told her. "The monsters are back."
Sarah knew about the monsters. She had dreams sometimes and Tim had told her that those were just monsters trying to scare her and that he would keep them away. She didn't laugh. Instead, she clambered over beside him and wrapped her short arms around him. Skinny as he was, his shoulders were broad enough that her arms couldn't make it all the way around.
"I'll keep the monsters away this time. They won't get past me."
Tim laughed...and cried...and then wrapped his arms around her, enveloping her in an embrace that both gave and received comfort. She didn't tease him. They fell asleep that way and Sarah didn't ever tell their parents about it.
"I remember," Tim said. "I remember that."
"Me, too."
He couldn't actually see Sarah right now, only feel her arms.
"This is different."
"I know...but...no one is going to hurt you here."
Tim took a long breath. "I don't..." The panic rose for no real reason. He fought against it, knowing that Sarah wouldn't be able to deal with it. "...I'm afraid...it hurts."
"I can't stop it."
"I know."
"Are you going to be okay?"
"I don't know."
Sarah's hold on him tightened and he pulled back. It was too close to being tied down.
"Let me go, Sarah. Please."
The arms were immediately gone.
"I'm sorry."
He closed his eyes and tried to listen to his breathing, trying to determine how he felt. It was shaky...but not too fast, not very loud.
I'm not afraid? Or I am...but not terrified?
"Tim?"
The name sometimes felt foreign. People said it to him a lot and he knew that the name belonged to him, but it didn't seem to fit on him anymore. Tim was a person who could...think without having a meltdown. Tim was a person who hadn't killed people.
I didn't kill people, though...did I? They said I didn't...is that right?
"Tim? Please, you're scaring me."
Maybe the name really was his. Maybe he wasn't nameless like he'd been told. Maybe...
"Tim. Answer me!"
...but how could it be possible? How could he own that name when he had no connection to it? ...when he was so lost inside himself? The person who owned that name wasn't lost, wasn't alone, wasn't in pain...didn't hear the commands of someone who...
Do not speak!
Do not look away!
"Tim!"
He couldn't let it out, couldn't let out all the agony, all the fear, all the tears. They had to be buried deep inside, never released. Release meant only more pain.
"McGee...McGee, look at me. Remember? You thought you had killed us. You were wrong. You did not."
The voice cut through the remembered fear, but it couldn't get rid of it. There was something important...something they needed to know, but he didn't know why...or even exactly what it was.
"Ziva!" he said, desperate for someone to understand.
"McGee, it is all right. You are safe."
He opened his eyes wide, as wide as he could, not knowing how that made him appear. He needed her to understand. He heard his breathing, loud, uncontrolled, but that could wait. He forced himself to look right into Ziva's concerned eyes.
"I don't have a name! I don't have a name!"
"Yes, you do. It is Timothy McGee."
"No! You don't understand. I don't have a name! I can't have a name. No identity. Nothing to...no name!" He was starting to shake again, starting to hear the voices in his ears.
"I do not understand, McGee."
He shouted in an effort to make her get it, babbling words, repeating the same phrases over and over again, trying to make it clear.
"I don't have a name! We don't have names. No one has names. No names! Not me. No names!" He could see that she still didn't get it and he panicked, afraid that he would forget before he had the chance to explain. "You have a name! You're Ziva! You do. Sarah has a name. We don't! We don't have names. He takes them! He takes our names away! He doesn't have a name! Please! Please! I don't have a name!"
Things started to get confused in his head as the panic took precedence over the need for comprehension.
"I...I...I used to have...used to be...and...now...do I? I do... I do...but...but he takes it. He always takes it. Always...from everyone!"
He looked beyond Ziva and saw people standing the doorway.
"No! No! Not again. Please, no, not again. Not again. Please, no!" He pulled back on the bed, away from everyone, pulled back until he fell from the bed to the floor. His head hit the floor...hard...and things started to swim in his vision. The last thing he saw was Ziva. He tried to reach for her, tried to tell her one more time.
"No names...no names, Ziva..." Then, all was black.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Once upon a time...
He took his time as he removed her identity. It was easy to do. The more they set themselves apart, above everyone around them, the easier it was to make them no one. It wasn't as simple as taking away a wallet. That was just a symbol of who they were...an important symbol but a symbol nonetheless. People defined themselves by how they dressed, how they did their hair...how they saw themselves. Take away their clothes, their pretty hair...destroy their self-image. Then, all that would be left is a person. A person with no identity.
She had started out so confident, so sure. It had been a pleasure at first to remove her self-confidence...but the begging got on his nerves. He didn't like to hear weeping and begging. It was irritating. So he stopped her from speaking. Then, bit by bit, he took her away from herself. No name. No life. No job. Nothing. She was nothing.
He smiled. It had not taken long. Two days. He always watched them for a long time before he took them. He had to know what he was taking and the fastest way to do it. Now, as he watched her die, he saw her life fade away...into nothingness...
...and he exulted at adding another to the number of the nameless.