DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN ANYTHING!
~NCIS~
Tony let himself into his apartment, his mind, once again, on his junior partner. There was something bothering him, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. Instead of heading straight to his bedroom to get some rest, he detoured to his kitchen, heading straight to the fridge. He had eaten already, Ziva having brought him a sandwich when she came back from the cafeteria with Courtney. He pulled a beer out, even though it was waaaay to early to be drinking, but the little bit of alcohol would relax him and hopefully calm his restless mind. Maybe if he could get a few hours sleep, when he woke up, whatever was bothering him would become clear.
~NCIS~
Tim watched Tobias and Gibbs dispassionately through the little window of his hospital room door. He could tell the exact moment that Tobias told Gibbs his suspicions because Gibbs whipped around so fast to glare at him through that same little window that Tim was surprised he didn't give himself whiplash. His boss was not pleased. Tim watched another minute as the two other men argued before closing his eyes with a sigh. It was over. His life at NCIS was over with. Gibbs wouldn't want him on the team now that he knew at least some of it. He wouldn't want the responsibility of him, just as his parents hadn't. Even if Trent had solved the problem of who wanted him dead and he did manage to contain the fallout of that, it wouldn't matter. Enough damage had already been done. Now all he had to look forward to was what had been his life for the years before Frankenstein or what ever the CIA or the Navy had in store for him. Tim thought it ironic that Gibbs didn't want the responsibility of sending him out into the field and maybe losing him, but the others didn't have that problem. They knew what he was capable of. They had trained him, after all. Suddenly he wished the shooter had accomplished his goal. If he was going to die, what did it matter who was going to kill him? And dying was preferable to killing, no matter who he would be killing. With that last depressing thought, Tim lost the fight to stay awake and drifted off into a medicine induced sleep.
~NCIS~
While waiting for Tobias to arrive, Courtney was watching the files that she had decrypted. She had already watched them more than once but for some reason she was drawn to them, even though what they showed, not only horrified her but made her ill, too. She reached out and turned the volume on her computer up as the same doctor that was on all the files she had watched came on the screen. He was a slightly youngish man with raven black hair with silver on the sides, black eyes and deeply tanned skin. He was of above average height with the build of a man that worked out regularly but not religiously. Courtney looked on as the camera came to focus on a slim child of about four. He had dark blonde hair that she knew would darken to light brown as he got older and beautiful emerald green eyes shining with brilliance. He was very small for his age, both in stature and in weight, but Courtney could see the potential for height in his long limbs. The little boy—Tim—was holding a guitar, the large instrument way too big for his small hands, his fingers moving effortlessly over the strings, causing the most hauntingly beautiful music that Courtney could ever remember hearing to come over the computer speakers.
'It is extraordinary!' A voice said.
Courtney had discovered that the voice belonged to the black-haired doctor that was in most of the recordings.
'The subject has taught himself to play the guitar in less then four hours!' The doctor continued. The way that Tim was called 'the subject' grated on Courtney's nerves.
The file switched and Tim came into focus again, wearing the same black shorts and blue t-shirt that he had on in the previous video. This time he was playing the piano.
'The subject has taught himself to play over ten instruments. The more that he learns to play, the easier it is for him to learn the next one. The subject learned the piano, the tenth instrument, in less than two hours. And it is not only limited to musical instruments. The subject has taught himself to speak, read and write five languages. Two of them are dead languages. The subject has become accomplished at braille and sign language. He reads at a level that can't even be recorded, going through tomes that weigh more then he does in a matter of hours. When given the most advanced computer that we have available, the subject learned to work it and all the programs in one hour. Even when applied to practical application, this subjects' potential is limitless. It is of my opinion that there is truly nothing that this subject cannot accomplish.'
Courtney switched the video to a later one. This one showed an older Tim, tall and gangly, his hair shot through with brown now. He was strapped down to a table and his once clear green eyes were clouded with pain and fever, his body, where she could see, covered in wounds. This Tim couldn't have been more than fifteen and what the people were doing to a boy that was little more than a child truly sickened her. What upset her the most was that it was her government, the same government that she had dedicated her life to, that was doing it.
'Amazing!' The same doctor's voice came over the computer again. 'The experiment has been going on for over two hours and the subject has not spoken a word.'
Courtney watched as a different man, gray haired and brown eyed, picked up a knife and casually slipped it into Tim's side, it cutting his skin like butter. She could see that the weapon was used to cause maximum pain while causing little damage. The gray haired man made a dozen of the shallow cuts before stopping. He was methodical; dispassionate. He turned to face the camera.
'Fascinating.' His voice was strong and clear, no detectable accent. 'A subject such as this should have broken after the first few minutes. Yet he holds on.' The way that man looked at Tim as if he wasn't even human sent shivers down Courtney's spine.
The gray haired man turned back to Tim. He picked up a device that Courtney recognized as a tazer from the instrument tray that stood beside where Tim was strapped down, and as casually as one would give a caress he pressed the button on the side of the tazer, causing the prongs to come out and attach to Tim. As the current ran through the teenage Tim, his back bowed and the knife wounds started to bleed profusely. No sound could be heard except the sound of the tazer. Tim did not call out, did not beg, did not even let out a whimper or groan. As the gray haired man sent current after current through Tim, it was eerily silent. And Courtney watched it all, just as quiet, tears streaming down her face.
~NCIS~
Ducky closed the file that he had just finished reading and sat back in his chair wearily. He hadn't been able to forget about the medical record that Tobias had had him look at that morning. It had haunted him all day, causing him to be absent minded and short tempered. Finally, he had had enough and decided to do a little research. It hadn't been hard to discover what he wanted to know. Ducky had heard about Tim's car accident from when he was sixteen from Jimmy who had heard about it from Tony. Given that Fornell was Jethro's friend and the way he had been upset about what Ducky had told him, he had made a leap of faith. He hadn't really expected to find anything when he looked into Tim's medical record and he wished he hadn't. He took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose as he cursed his curiousness. He sincerely wished that he had just let this go.
"Is everything okay, Dr. Mallard?" The hesitant voice of his young assistant broke through his thoughts. Ducky looked up to where Jimmy stood in the doorway of his office, dressed in his street clothes, a pair of tan slacks and a light blue button up with a darker blue tie.
Ducky tried to give the lad a smile but knew he hadn't succeeded by the look on Jimmy's face. "Everything is just fine, Mister Palmer."
Jimmy looked doubtful. He knew something was bothering his boss and it had to do with the consultation that Ducky had had that morning with Agent Fornell. Jimmy had seen Fornell leaving when he was arriving in autopsy and when ask, Ducky had just said that he was consulting on a FBI case. He couldn't help but worry about his mentor. Jimmy had never seen the ME like this. Something was troubling Ducky, and it seemed to be on a personal level. But what could be personal about a consultation with the FBI?
"If your sure?" Jimmy asked.
Ducky's wise blue eyes met Jimmy's. "Go home, Mister Palmer." He said gently.
With one more concerned glance at Ducky, Jimmy left, making a note to talk to Tony about Ducky's weird behavior in the morning.
Ducky watched as Jimmy left a warmth filling him. Very rarely did Jimmy show his concern. Ducky knew how the lad felt about him, one only had to look into his eyes to see that. But he hardly ever showed it. He had needed it today. The warmth faded as his eyes fell to the file on his desk. He wondered if anyone had ever shown that level of concern for Tim.
~NCIS~