Chapter 10
"You seem rather subdued, Mr. Palmer," Ducky commented as he prepared to autopsy the body.
Jimmy shrugged and put on the face shield.
"I know it can't be the smell as we've had worse. This body is remarkably undecomposed."
"I'm ready, Doctor," Jimmy said.
"Very good, my lad. Let us proceed."
The autopsy did not proceed in silence...because Ducky was there and he was rarely silent.
"There. You see, Mr. Palmer? This rib cage has been completely crushed, but what do you notice about the injuries?"
Jimmy leaned over and, although he was worried that he still felt absolutely nothing about this, he allowed himself to be drawn into the conversation.
"No bruising on the skin. No sign of internal bleeding."
"Precisely! These injuries were done post mortem." He continued on. "See the sternum? It is also cracked, but again..."
"Postmortem. Probably done at different times."
"Yes!" Ducky said with a flourish. Then, he suddenly noticed Jimmy's weak smile in return. "Whatever is the matter, Mr. Palmer?"
"Nothing, Doctor!"
"Are you certain? This certainly must be a bit of a shock for you, seeing the damage inflicted by someone you know."
"It's not, Dr. Mallard."
Ducky just looked at him.
Jimmy looked down, staring into the chest cavity of this nameless corpse whose body now lay open to the world.
"That's what's wrong."
"What is, lad?"
"I'm not shocked. This doesn't bother me...at all." Jimmy paused for a moment. "...and that bothers me!"
"You've never been squeamish about working with gruesome corpses, Mr. Palmer. It's one of your assets."
"But shouldn't I feel something about this guy? I mean...if nothing else, McGee might have killed him. Shouldn't that bother me?" Jimmy burst out.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
There was a strange sort of disconnect which accompanied his next awakening. Tim didn't feel anything. Nothing at all. No pain. No guilt. No regret. No anger. Nothing. He was lying on his side, breathing slowly, not moving. He seemed to have successfully shut down his brain to all higher functions.
It was a relief and he intended to hold onto that numbness for as long as he possibly could. He didn't care what it took to maintain it. Anything to hold back the pain.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"When will you go and visit him?" Ziva asked.
"When he's at Bethesda and more conveniently located," Tony said with an airiness he couldn't quite carry off.
"And what will you tell him?"
"About what?"
"He will ask, Tony. He will want to know the details of the case. This is McGee. He will want to know why he was taken if he does not know already. He will want to know what happened."
"He'll ask about Jethro...unless he knows already," Tony added softly.
"Yes. I had not considered that."
"I don't know." Tony looked at the information they'd gathered...and that which had come from the FBI.
"Nor do I."
Tony rallied quickly. "It's Probie! He'll be okay. Sure, it must have been bad at first...all that fighting and stuff, but he'll be okay after he gets some sleep."
"I am not certain sleep is going to make everything better."
"It'll help."
"Enough?"
"I don't know, Ziva. Got it? I don't know. Can't you just let me pretend everything is okay for a while?"
"What is it about you and Abby? She wishes to freak out about inconsequentials and you wish to pretend that when things are bad that they are not. Can neither of you accept reality as it is?"
"Oh, because you always do that?" Tony shot back. "You who couldn't even see beyond your..." He stopped talking and looked back at the screen.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"What, Tony?" Ziva stood up. "What is it that you wish to accuse me of? You wish to say that I made a mistake? You wish me to tell you that I have occasionally made errors in my judgments of people? I have."
"Good."
"But I also can admit that whatever has happened to McGee might be the kind of thing that will be difficult for him to deal with, that his experience may change him, that, right now, things are not good. Captivity is a hard thing to deal with...for anyone. I can admit that. Can you?"
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
It would take time to get things right. He knew that. He also knew that if he got caught, he would be punished...arrested...imprisoned. What he planned required that he be free. After he found them and killed them, he didn't care what happened. His life was ruined already.
It would be worth it to take them down.
No matter the cost.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Ducky didn't answer Jimmy, who felt rather embarrassed at his outburst. He gave him a look, but he said nothing, allowing Jimmy to pretend the words hadn't been spoken at all. Instead, they continued with the autopsy.
...and they found something that not even Ducky could have expected.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
They had left the room. Tim was relieved. He didn't want them there, but he didn't want to open his eyes and tell them so. He didn't want to see them. He didn't want to try explaining it to them. Instead, he waited for a while...just until he was sure that no one was coming in. He opened his eyes. He was on a bed. It was comfortable, more or less. He had an IV in his arm, more than likely giving him important nutrients he'd been lacking for the last...period of time. He still had no idea how long he'd been in that place. He couldn't remember what he'd been given to eat there, although logic dictated that he must have eaten something...and had water as well. He'd more than likely be dead otherwise.
Since he wasn't...
A soft laugh escaped his lips. He guessed that there was something in his head which had engaged, allowing him to think these pseudo-rational thoughts. He didn't kid himself that he was thinking clearly. That was one thing he hadn't been doing. In fact, he had intentionally not allowed himself to think clearly. Reason and logic would have gotten him killed.
Thinking about how close he must have come to being killed made him anxious. He sat up, looking around, certain that there was someone just out of sight, waiting to cause him more pain. His chest tightened and he couldn't help it. He had to move, had to get away from this feeling...but that IV...
He looked at it. Tim was sure that it was probably important, but he didn't want it right now. Right now, that IV was nothing more than a tether, a shackle, preventing him from moving, preventing him from escaping. Escaping what didn't matter. All that mattered was that he was being held captive.
Without another thought, he grasped the line, just below the bag and pulled it out. Then, he left his bed...and walked to the window.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"Did Ducky say what he wanted?" Tony asked.
"No, and you have managed to ask me that four times," Ziva retorted. "We are not very far from Autopsy. Perhaps you could simply wait and ask him."
Tony didn't answer, but his eagerness was apparent as they walked to the doors to Ducky's domain. He didn't even pause, but surged ahead of Ziva and opened the doors first.
"What do you got, Ducky?" he asked.
"Mr. Palmer and I have discovered something intriguing about our body."
"McGee didn't kill him?"
"Unknown, but unlikely."
"Why?" Tony asked.
"This man suffered a gunshot wound to his head. There is evidence of massive cerebral hemorrhaging...and we found the bullet as well."
"Was there not extensive damage to his skull, Ducky?" Ziva asked. "Is it not possible that the hemorrhage was caused by the other injuries?"
"Possible, but again, unlikely. The bleeding in the brain came from the damage done by the bullet, and many of the head injuries were caused postmorten, showing no signs of bleeding."
"So...this guy was shot...and then beaten after he was dead? Why?"
"That I wouldn't know."
"Training," Ziva said shortly.
"Training? You want to call that room some sort of rec room or gym?"
"No. I would guess that they were training him to kill. It is a common practice in the madrasa schools run by terrorists. They train the children to kill before their morals can dictate the sanctity of life."
"McGee's hardly a kid."
"No, I understand, Tony," Ducky interrupted. "Because McGee is an adult, the training would have been different."
"Yes," Ziva said, but she did not seem happy about her knowledge. "It would have taken a lot of effort to make McGee do the things he did."
"So...why kill the guy first?"
"I do not know. Perhaps because it was easier to maintain a corpse than to kidnap the living."
"So...what would they do?"
"You, I am sure, do not want to know, Tony. ...not if you wish to pretend that things are okay."
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
"Abby, you can't come at him like this."
"Why not, Gibbs? Tim doesn't mind. He likes being hugged."
Gibbs sighed. Abby was normally so intelligent. It sometimes amazed him how easily she could set that aside and simply react. It required a lot more effort from him...and a lot more talking to get her to think it through.
"Abby, think about it. He's not in a good state right now. He'd probably be more likely to hit you than to accept your hug. It may seem like an attack."
"He wasn't gone that long, Gibbs!"
"Long enough that he would have attacked me simply because he got angry, but he collapsed first. Long enough that he killed a Marine with his bare hands. Abby, according to him he bashed the man's head in by ramming it into the concrete floor...more than once."
"He's..."
"He's hurt, Abby. He's not okay...and you have to stop thinking about yourself and think about how he's been doing."
"What about Jethro?"
"What about him?"
"Well...shouldn't Tim know that–?"
"No. Not right now. Later."
"He should know."
"Later!"
Abby sighed rebelliously...but made no effort to disagree. She had been beside Tim for hours, wanting him to wake up and he hadn't. She was so worried about him, wishing that she could comfort both him and herself in her usual way. She didn't want to admit that it wouldn't help.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
There was a fire escape outside the window. Tim tried to open the window. It wouldn't open. He spent about ten seconds staring at it. Then, he walked to his bed, picked up the stand holding the IV bag and carried it to the window.
He sighted along it and then threw it at the window.
The glass shattered. He pulled it back and threw it again. More glass shattered. He walked to the window and used the stand to knock the rest of the glass out. Then, he threw the stand on the floor and climbed through to the fire escape.
It never occurred to him to try the door. Doors didn't lead to anywhere good.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Fornell looked at the list of names. He was correlating the files the FBI had found in that compound with names of missing persons. They had been taken from all over the Eastern seaboard, from Maine down to Florida. None of them were the same type. Some had families. Some didn't. Some were male, some female. Some had been missing for more than a month, some for a couple of weeks. Bodies had been found for many of them...but not all.
The survivors were in varying stages of sanity. A couple had rallied quite well. They'd need therapy of course, but they seemed like they'd be okay. Others...like the woman they'd found, the man who had been fighting Tim, Tim himself...they were in a state of shock and seemed unable to accept that they were free. The woman would not let any male near her, not even her boyfriend or her father. None. The man, a marathon runner from Kentucky, had not come out of his shock-induced catatonic state. His wife and children had already made arrangements to move him closer to home. Tim was...sleeping at last contact...but before collapsing, he had attempted to continue the fight. It was something he seemed to have embraced.
So many lives had been ruined, destroyed, altered by these...people. It seemed wrong to call them that. The interviews were just beginning and already a couple of agents had asked to be excused from conducting the interrogations. They knew very little at this point beyond the details provided by Shawn, but they did know that the leaders had escaped somehow.
He picked up another file, this one compiled by the FBI. With a sigh, he flipped it open and saw the arrogant face of Shawn Orson. They had found his body on the grounds in a shallow grave. It seemed to have been a temporary placement, based on how careful they'd been about getting rid of the other bodies. They were trying to track down Shawn's father, but the contact information was out of date.
What kind of fallout there'd be from all of this, he didn't know. ...and he was a little afraid of finding out.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Abby noticed the commotion, people running down the hall, in and out of one of the rooms. She felt Gibbs' hand tighten on her arm...and it almost made her smile. He knew her much too well.
"Agent Gibbs, Tim is gone!"
The hand tightened even more.
"Where is he?" Abby asked, knowing that it was a stupid question. If they knew that, they wouldn't be so worried.
Gibbs, never loosening his grip, followed the nurse to the room. Sure enough, no Tim and Abby had to exercise every particle of self-control she possessed (and admittedly, she didn't have many of them) to keep from freaking out and stupidly calling Tim's name.
"It wasn't someone breaking in," Gibbs said, finally letting Abby go with a squeeze that was both reassurance and warning to stay calm. "No glass inside."
"Tim did this himself? Why?"
"To get away."
"Where to?"
"Out, obviously." Gibbs walked to the window.
"Those windows aren't supposed to open," the nurse said.
"Hence the use of the stand," Abby heard her own voice saying. "Maybe you should rethink that."
She followed Gibbs to the window.
"Has anyone checked the roof?" Again, that was her voice speaking the words...but she wasn't sure where they were coming from because she hadn't planned on saying anything at all. She just couldn't hold them back.
"I'll check. You wait here."
"Gibbs! I want to come!"
"You wait here, Abby," Gibbs ordered. "If he's up there, I'll talk to him, get him to come back down. If he's not, we'll think of somewhere else to look. In the meantime...stay here. That's an order."
Abby nodded with extreme reluctance and then watched as Gibbs climbed out the window and up the fire escape. Not knowing what else to do, she sat down on the bed recently occupied by Tim and wrapped her arms around herself.
It didn't help.