Chapter 21

"You misjudged Graham."

"Apparently."

"We're not going to get to him, not in psychiatric lockdown."

"Guess not."

"Matheson is out, too. Your people screwed that up."

"So...what now. Are you saying we just give up trying to get rid of the evidence?"

"I'm not even sure we can get out of the country. They're watching for us. They got the ship."

"Maybe they'd be distracted by some deaths."

"Are you suggesting that we'd be able to get into Bethesda?"

"Maybe not all of us, but one."

"You're suggesting Miller, aren't you."

"He's been our go-to guy for this stuff so far."

"He may not be able to get in."

"If he gets caught..."

"He's always made me a bit nervous."

"So...no downside."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Matheson had never been confined to one place for so long before. He'd stayed in one place for weeks on end when a new research method had come out or when he'd been on the right track for something. ...but to be told that one had to stay in one place. That was troubling. He understood the reason for it and he wasn't going to try and get away, but that didn't mean he appreciated it. The agent guarding him had traded places. He supposed he should be sleeping, but he wasn't tired. His mind was running through too many ideas at the moment. He'd really like to talk with someone about them. The woman guarding him now seemed nice enough, but he'd really like the opportunity to talk with someone he knew...even slightly.

He walked out of his room.

"Agent Weaver?" he asked.

"Yes? What is it, Dr. Matheson?"

"I'd like to go to Agent McGee's room, if I could."

"It's three in the morning, you know."

"Oh...well, could we go there anyway? If he's asleep, I'll come back."

Agent Weaver smiled. "Okay. Let's go."

Matheson nodded and walked through the halls, letting Agent Weaver direct him when he didn't know where to go. He rather thought that Tim would be asleep, but he wanted to see him not in a coma if possible.

When they arrived at the room, Matheson was surprised to see Tim awake. He wasn't doing anything in particular. There was a laptop on a table beside his bed, but it was off. He was just staring at the ceiling. There was a curtain drawn between his bed and Stan's, giving them both a little bit of privacy.

"Agent McGee?" Matheson whispered.

Tim looked over and he blinked in surprise.

"Dr. Matheson?" he asked.

Matheson looked over at Agent Weaver for a moment. She smiled and took up a position outside the door.

"What are you...doing here?" he asked.

"I wanted to talk to you...if you don't mind."

"I guess I don't...but why now?"

"I'm awake now."

Tim smiled. "So am I. Come on in."

Matheson sat down beside Tim's bed.

"How are you feeling?"

"Better...now that I'm not having seizures every...few seconds."

"That's what was happening?"

"Yeah. It started out less, but it got so that I had them almost constantly."

Matheson nodded.

"Why did you want to talk to me?" Tim asked. "Because I gave all the details I could to Dr. Banks before. Poor guy."

"It's not about the details. It's about...do you think that what I was trying to do was wrong?"

"What were you trying to do?"

"Solve the problem that was given to me."

"Not save lives?" Tim asked, smiling a little.

"Not really. I mean, I was glad that lives might have been saved by what I was trying to do...but really, I was just trying to solve the problem."

"Would you have stopped if someone had told you what was going on before all this happened?"

"You mean if they had told me they were doing illicit experiments?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that would have been illegal."

"Is that a yes?"

"Of course. If you break the law, the work can't be done at all and the problem won't be solved. ...and I'm not for killing people. It's...messy."

Tim's laugh was raspy but it seemed genuine.

"I can...see why the others find you so interesting."

"Why?"

"Because you don't react like one would expect. No protestations of saving lives. No pretense of really caring about the people. It's all...really academic to you isn't it."

"Well, I'll admit that it wasn't so academic when people were trying to kill me."

"It rarely is."

"I've never really thought about the idea that there might be things we shouldn't be trying to do...problems we shouldn't be solving. Do you think there are things like that, Agent McGee?"

"You can call me Tim. You're not acting as my doctor and I'm definitely not acting as an agent right now."

"You can call me Clark, if you'd like. Not many people do. They say that I'm too weird to be familiar."

Tim laughed again.

"To answer your question, Clark, I think that most things are worth knowing. The problem isn't the questions...the problem is what human beings might do with the answers. Generally, things are pretty innocuous left to themselves, but we can't leave them that way. We have to probe to see...how far we can go, and there are people out there who...can't be trusted with them."

Matheson considered that idea. It was such a strange way of thinking for him. He'd always just looked at the questions with the potential answers. He hadn't considered what else could be done with what he'd found.

"How do you tell?"

"I don't know the answer to that question. Seems like we're usually too late to stop it before it gets too far. That doesn't mean we can't keep looking for answers, though. What you thought you were doing was good, and maybe even what those people were doing was a good idea to start...but the ends can't justify the means."

"I was thinking that all this stuff that happened...it's the optical illusion."

"Huh?"

"Abby told me about the Fata Morgana and it fits with what happened here. A Fata Morgana changes the original object until it can't be seen anymore. All these murders...they've taken what could be a good thing and warped it until the good it could have been is completely obscured."

"I hadn't really thought of it that way."

Matheson nodded and then he smiled.

"I'm really not stupid, you know. I still remember, back when I was a kid, my parents sat me down and said that I didn't think like other people did. It was okay, but I had to know that because I could get frustrated if I didn't remember it. I couldn't expect people to react the way I thought they should...and I should know that people would think that I was a bit strange, too."

"I don't think you're stupid, but your mind does seem to work differently. There isn't anything wrong with that."

"I don't really know what I'm going to do after all this is over. Jobs have just kind of...come to me. I haven't had to think about it much."

Tim smiled. "You'll probably have it pretty easy after this, too. I can't imagine that people wouldn't want to hire you."

"Maybe...but I can't get any references."

"No, probably not. NCIS would probably be a reference if you needed one. You saved my life and Stan's life. That's a pretty good reference." Tim took a deep breath.

"Oh, you're still needing to breathe more. I'm sorry."

"That's all right...but I think I need to...take some time off talking."

"Right. It is late. I'll get back to where I'm staying. Thank you for talking to me."

"No problem. It was nice to...meet you when I'm conscious and coherent."

Matheson nodded and left the room.

"I'm ready to go back now," he said to Agent Weaver.

"Good. You think that you'll sleep?"

"I don't know. Maybe."

They started to go back, but as they passed a doctor walking down the hall, Matheson paused. His mind really did work differently from other people. He had always been frustrated by Halloween. No one had really seemed different to him. Even when their faces were covered by masks, their builds and their strides had been exactly the same and he had a hard time pretending that he couldn't see that. He also didn't generally forget someone once he had met them. He might dismiss them, but he didn't forget them. The information was still in his head.

...and this doctor seemed familiar to him. He wasn't sure why, though. He didn't see his face. He hadn't really figured out what it was.

"Dr. Matheson?"

"Yeah?"

"What is it?"

"I'm not sure."

"Do you need some time here in the middle of the hall to think about it or can you go back to your room?"

Matheson took a few vague steps in the right direction, but his mind was on the doctor, not really on where he was going.

Something wasn't right.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim smiled to himself as the door closed. Matheson was definitely an interesting guy. He'd enjoyed talking to him, as strange as the conversation had been. It was just a different kind of chat than he could have had with any other person. It helped that Matheson was so earnest. He wasn't trying to be difficult. It was just the way he was.

The door started to open again...this time without a knock. Tim tensed and grabbed hold of the knife he kept right by him at all times. He had it hidden beneath the blanket, but his hand was never far from it. So far, there had been no reason to worry, but that didn't stop him from worrying. There was always a chance that someone would get by the guards on duty. He closed his eyes to narrow slits and looked toward the doorway.

The man who came in was dressed like a doctor, but he didn't move like a doctor.

That was not a good thing. Tim tightened his hand around the knife but he didn't move. The man started to walk forward. As he approached, Tim saw him pull out a scalpel. That was worse because it meant that he wasn't trying to cover his murder as some kind of mysterious accident. He was going for blood and all he wanted was to get away with it.

That meant no holds barred. Tim wasn't sure he could win, but he could last long enough not to lose. If he made noise once the scuffle started, Stan would jump into the fray...and hopefully not get killed.

The man moved carefully across the floor, quiet...experienced. This wasn't the first person he'd killed. That made Tim's blood run cold. He was more than a little worried about this. Unlike Dr. Banks, this man would not have a change of heart...if he had a heart to change.

A little bit closer, he thought to himself. A little bit closer. I can't get you if you don't get within reach of me. I don't have the strength for it.

The man came closer. Tim could almost feel him.

Another step.

Close enough. He hoped. Tim's hold on the knife became a white-knuckle grip.

...and he sprang up from his supine position, knife flying toward the target.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Stan came awake at the first sound. Then, he heard the cry and he didn't waste any time wondering what was going on. He just knew that there shouldn't be that kind of sound on the other side of the curtain.

He sprang out of bed and flung the curtain aside. There was a man staggering back away from the bed, a knife sticking out of his shoulder, but he was armed himself with a scalpel. Stan, pulled the curtain down and threw it at the man. It was enough of a surprise that he toppled to the floor.

And then the door to the room burst open and Agent Weaver was there, her gun drawn.

"Federal agent! Stand down!" she said loudly.

The figure beneath the curtain stopped moving. There was a moment of silence...and then, blood began to stain the curtain.

Agent Weaver whipped back the curtain...and sighed. The man had cut his own throat...and he had done it right.

He was dead.

"Michael Miller," Matheson said. "I told you I knew who he was. I knew I was right."

"This is Michael Miller?" Tim asked softly, in between heavy breaths.

"Yeah. I recognized his build," Matheson said.

"He killed himself," Stan said. "Why?"

"He didn't want to get caught," Agent Weaver said.

"He'd killed before," Tim said. "The way he was moving. It wasn't an amateur."

"I wonder how many."

"I'm glad it wasn't plus one," Matheson said.

Tim smiled. "Me, too."

"Well...I think I'd better call someone," Agent Weaver said. "You guys are never boring."

Stan smiled winningly. "We wouldn't want to bore you, Geri. You're too nice."

"Thanks. You okay, McGee?"

Tim nodded. "I'm okay. Not great...but okay. When you call Gibbs, tell him that I'm glad he gave me a knife."

"Will do."

Stan looked at Tim and then at the body on the floor...the knife sticking out of his shoulder. He wouldn't have thought that Tim could do that much, but he supposed that there was no limit to what someone under threat could do.

...and Tim was a source of surprises.

"You ready for the next step, Tim?" Stan asked.

"What's that?"

"Figuring out why it happened."

"I think I'm ready right now."

"All right."

He handed Tim the laptop. They couldn't do anything about the dead man on the floor. What they could do was do their part to solve the case.