I re-uploaded Chapter 20 to fix a few formatting issues. is acting kind of weird lately. Sorry for the confusion!

Chapter Twenty-One

February 5, 2011 – 3:27am

The living room was dark the next time that Jimmy opened his eyes. He lay on his side, staring at a blank television screen, breathing slowly and trying to pull his sleep-scattered thoughts together.

I must have fallen asleep before Doctor Mallard got here, he thought, feeling just a little ashamed for being such a terrible host. I wonder if he's still here? I hope he's not sleeping in the chair, it's not very comfortable… Maybe he just checked up on me and then went home.

Speaking of check ups… Jimmy closed his eyes and focused on his body, on how he was feeling physically. His headache was almost gone. He opened his eyes and carefully turned his head from side to side. No vertigo; the walls and floor stayed right where they belonged. His throat still hurt, and his mouth was dry, but before he could do anything about that, he realized, he really needed to use the bathroom.

It took more effort than he had expected to push himself upright and climb to his feet, but he did it. He even managed to take a few unsteady steps. But then the weakness caught up with him; his legs turned to jelly, and Jimmy collapsed to his hands and knees with a loud thud, gasping for air as if he'd just run a mile.

"Mr. Palmer?" The lamp next to Jimmy's old armchair was switched on, revealing Ducky sitting in the chair with the throw blanket from the back of the couch across his lap. He set the blanket aside now and hurried forward to kneel down next to his assistant. "Are you alright? What are you doing up?"

Jimmy laughed shortly. "I'm not up, I'm down," he pointed out.

Ducky sighed. "Well, I suppose that answers my first question," he conceded. "Let me try again. Why are you currently on your living room floor?"

Jimmy ducked his head, feeling his face turn red. "I was trying to get to the bathroom," he admitted.

"Well, come on, then." Ducky took Jimmy's arm and helped the younger man to his feet. He couldn't support as much of Jimmy's weight as Tony could, but fortunately Jimmy was not in as bad a shape as he had been earlier. With Ducky's assistance, he was able to stumble across the room to the bathroom.

For one horrifying moment, Jimmy was afraid that Ducky would insist on helping him in the bathroom, but to his immense relief, his supervisor allowed him his privacy. He was waiting when Jimmy came out, and helped guide his young protégé back to the couch. As Jimmy had expected, Ducky then insisted on a brief exam, checking his vital signs and asking about Jimmy's symptoms. Jimmy answered as truthfully as he could; he only fudged when Ducky asked him if he knew why he'd gotten so ill.

"I don't know, Doctor Mallard," he answered, although he was beginning to think that maybe he did know. It must have something to do with being blown up last night, he thought, carefully keeping his mind only on what had happened to himself and not the rest of the team. The body resets, but the mind doesn't – and I was already scared half to death and panicking and hurt even before the bomb went off. So going from sound asleep at midnight to major adrenaline rush at 12:01… Poor Tony, for having to wake up to that…

"Mr. Palmer." Ducky's voice brought him back to the present. The older man sat down on the couch next to him. "Jimmy, Anthony told me that you'd had a nightmare and woke up screaming before you became ill…" His voice trailed off, inviting Jimmy to speak without demanding a response.

Jimmy wondered if Tony had told Ducky about his earlier nightmares this time, as he had before, on Jimmy's second Friday night. I've got to come up with a better way to keep track of all this. If it goes on much longer, I'm going to be counting weeks of Friday nights. He sighed and looked down at his hands, trying to decide what to say.

Ducky must have felt that he'd gone too far. "My apologies, Mr. Palmer. I didn't mean to pry. I simply wish to help if I can."

Jimmy closed his eyes, trying to hide the flood of guilt that washed over him. You did help, you just don't remember it, he thought, reminded of their conversation that other night, and of what came after. And in just a few hours, you're going to get a phone call, and you're going to want to go to the scene, only you won't because you'll feel responsible for me and I won't be able to go because I wouldn't even make it out to the car…

"Jimmy?"

He looked up with a start, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. "I'm sorry, Doctor Mallard. I'm just kind of… distracted tonight."

"I'd noticed," Ducky said dryly. He patted Jimmy's shoulder before standing up. "Well, can I get you anything? I was thinking about making something warm to drink – some hot chocolate, perhaps?"

"That – sounds good," Jimmy answered, wondering if Ducky was going to add anything to it this time. He figured he should trust the doctor's judgment – if Ducky thought he needed to relax, he was probably right. "Thank you," he added.

As Ducky wandered into the kitchen, Jimmy reached for the blanket and wrapped it around himself. If he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine Tony there with him, kneeling in front of him the way he had the second night, when he thought Jimmy had had a nightmare. Or last night, when he'd looked into Jimmy's eyes. "I'm not leaving you," Jimmy heard again in his mind.

What went wrong? Jimmy absent-mindedly took the mug of hot chocolate from Ducky and sipped at it carefully, noting that it was just hot chocolate this time and nothing more. He was aware of his supervisor taking a seat at the other end of the couch, his own mug in hand; but Ducky didn't push him to speak, instead allowing Jimmy time and space enough to think.

I walked right into their hands, he thought, remembering the surprise he'd felt when he looked up and saw the two men on the stairs. I didn't even get a chance to look at the bomb, so I still don't know if I can defuse it. And Abby called Gibbs – but I can't blame her for that, because she was right, I was doing something stupid. I think we still might have made it out of there if the FBI and ATF hadn't shown up – and if I hadn't fallen down the stairs…

In his mind, he called up the timeline he'd put together at Tony's computer and considered what he now knew about the terrorists' movements that night. They came back for a third time, and added something more to the bomb. That must be what happened to Tony and the others on the third night – they ran into them, and somehow it ended with the building being blown up. So tomorrow night – for Jimmy had accepted that there was nothing he could do tonight, except plan ahead – tomorrow night, I can't show up there until after they leave the third time. That's going to be cutting it awfully close.

They were talking about other targets last night. They weren't just counting on the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs passing by; they were setting up other targets as well. So even if I somehow warn someone about the chairman, there's no telling who else might drive by and set off the bomb, or when…

He was a little more aware this time, when Ducky took away the mug and his glasses. Jimmy shifted position so he could lay his head on his pillow, but curled his legs in so that Ducky could still sit at the other end of the couch instead of the less comfortable chair. Blinking sleepily, Jimmy continued to work on his plans for the next night, making a list of things he had to do until finally his eyes closed and he drifted off to sleep.

Some time later, he awoke to the sound of Ducky's phone ringing. Biting his lip, Jimmy listened as Ducky quietly answered the phone, moving into the bedroom so that his conversation wouldn't disturb his patient.

Doctor Mallard, I'm so sorry, Jimmy thought, tears stinging his eyes. You had no idea this was coming, and you have no way of knowing that it's only going to last for a couple of hours until it all starts over again. I wish there was some way to spare you the pain – I guess I could have turned your phone off, but I didn't think of it in time.

He tried to wait patiently, but Ducky's conversation tonight seemed to be taking longer than it had before. That may have been because Ducky had to ask more questions tonight, not having the prior knowledge of Jimmy's 'dream.' But as the minutes went by, Jimmy began to worry. Was Ducky okay?

Jimmy pushed away the blanket and slowly climbed to his feet, reaching out to grab his glasses from the table. He took a few hesitant steps. His legs shook, but he was able to remain upright. Smiling grimly at this small sign of success, he staggered to the bedroom door, knocking softly before opening it.

Ducky stood at Jimmy's bedroom window, holding his phone to his ear with one hand. His eyes widened when he saw Jimmy, but he didn't say anything. Instead he moved quickly to Jimmy's side and urged the younger man to sit on the bed. He was still listening to whatever was being said on the other end of the line, so Jimmy held his tongue.

He studied his supervisor's face as Ducky nodded unconsciously in agreement with the other person. Ducky looked concerned, yes, but he showed no signs of the hopeless worry he'd shown at the crime scene. Of course – how many times had he heard that the team was in danger, and yet they came out alright? Or maybe he was hiding his true feelings out of concern for Jimmy. Either way, Jimmy still felt a stab of shame that he couldn't have stopped the tragedy tonight, that he couldn't spare Ducky from having to experience his friends' deaths yet again.

"Of course, Director," Ducky spoke quietly into the phone. Jimmy looked up in surprise – he'd expected the caller to be Ducky's FBI friend. "I understand. Please let me know… thank you." He disconnected the call, slipping the phone into his pocket before resting his hand on Jimmy's shoulder.

"Mr. Palmer, are you alright?"

Jimmy didn't want to do this again; he didn't want to watch Ducky suffer. But what choice was there? Trying to explain everything at this point would just make Ducky worry that Jimmy was having a psychotic break, and the man didn't need any more bad news tonight. Jimmy consoled himself with the reminder that when the night started over again, he would have another chance to make sure that Ducky – or he – would never have to go through this again.

"I'm okay," he answered Ducky's question; then he asked one of his own. "Is something wrong?"

Ducky lowered himself to sit on the edge of the bed, his hand still on Jimmy's shoulder. "Mr. Palmer, I don't want to upset you unduly. I'm sure there's nothing to worry about, but… there's been an incident."

Jimmy didn't have to fake his reaction, though it was caused more by the look on Ducky's face than by his words. He raised his hand to cover Ducky's hand on his shoulder. "What happened?" he remembered to ask.

As Ducky told him about the explosion and the MCRT's possible involvement, Jimmy bowed his head to hide his face. He'd thought that maybe Ducky would notice that something wasn't quite right with his reactions, but he needn't have worried. Even knowing what he knew, Jimmy found that hearing it from Ducky, in the careful tone he used to talk to the bereaved, still cut him right to the heart. He realized that even though this conversation would never have happened once the night looped around again, it was still possible that someday, Jimmy would have to sit and listen to Ducky, or maybe Gibbs, telling him that Tony wouldn't be coming home that night…

Ducky explained that after he'd heard the news from a colleague at the FBI, he had immediately called Director Vance. The director would call them as soon as he had any news. In the meantime, Ducky suggested that Jimmy should lay down and get some rest. Jimmy, realizing that Ducky was focusing on his patient in order to distract him from those whom he could not help, acquiesced to Ducky's suggestion, although he insisted that he'd rather lay on the couch than in the bedroom.

"Are you sure you're comfortable here?" Ducky asked as he pulled the blanket over Jimmy's shoulders.

Jimmy nodded. "I –" He hadn't meant to speak, but once he started, Ducky encouraged him to finish. "I don't want to wake up in there without him," he whispered.

Ducky smiled down at him sadly and patted his arm. "Just rest, lad," he said softly. "I'll wake you if there's any news."

As Jimmy closed his eyes, he wondered if Ducky would indeed be waking him with the bad news, or if the night would start over first. He huddled under the blanket, his tears soaking into the pillow, and hoped that both he and Ducky would be spared the experience…