Act 5, Scene 2
Gibbs was in a foul mood, darker even than he'd ever remembered experiencing. The duel was set up, the rapiers were chosen, the whole court was in attendance, and Gibbs could do nothing to stop it. He paced the empty space behind the King's box in a fury, throwing off everyone's attempt to calm him down. He'd tried to get to Hamlet before this farce began, but the King had packed the hallways with fools that took up the Prince's time. Gibbs had taken the opportunity to go through the King's quarters, and what he'd found made him furious; he'd discovered Old King Hamlet's suit of armor, complete with a hook soldered on for hanging it on a zip-line. He'd found orders written in King Cladius's own hand for the Switzers, those lean and hungry assassins that Gibbs hated so much, to steal McGee's sound amplification device and to pretend to be the late King and mess with Hamlet's head. He'd found a poison that Abby confirmed was what killed King Hamlet and Ophelia both. He'd even found the funnel that still had a strand of King Hamlet's hair curled around it.
I've got everything I need to arrest him and throw him in the dungeon… but he'll take me and my team apart if I do.
The King stood and clapped his hands. "Set me the stoups of wine upon that table—if Hamlet give the first or second hit or quit in answer of the third exchange, let all the battlements their ordinance fire. The King shall drink to Hamlet's better breath, and in the cup a Pearl shall he throw, richer than that which for successive kings in Denmark's crown have worn. Give me the cups, and let the kettle to the trumpet speak. The trumpet to the cannoneer without, the cannons to the heavens, the heaven to earth, 'Now the King drinks to Hamlet.' Come, begin. And you, the judges, bear a wary eye."
What his he planning now? I don't trust this guy as far as I can throw him! He's drawing a lot of attention to this Pearl, waving it around like nobody's ever seen one before… With this guy's so-called subtly, my gut's going crazy!
"Come on, sir." Hamlet said to Laertes, saluting him with his blade.
"Come, my lord." Laertes replied with a return salute.
Their swords crossed, and then flew fast and strong. The two fencers jumped and danced, their blades flicking in and out like tongues of serpents.
"One!" Hamlet crowed as his sword flashed against Laertes' body.
"No!" Laertes protested.
"Judgment!" Hamlet called.
Osric, the judge of the tournament, leaned in. "A hit, a very palpable hit!"
Laertes shrugged. "Well, again."
The King stood, drawing everyone's attention to him. "Stay, give me drink. Hamlet, this pearl is thine. Here's to thy health." He took a deep draught of the wine, smacking his lips in satisfaction.
If he's drinking that wine, there can't be any poison in it, Gibbs thought in relief.
The King made a flourish with his hand, held up the pearl, then allowed it to fall into the beverage. "Give him the cup!" he ordered.
Then again….
Gibbs tried to get to the front of the table and swipe the deadly goblet before anyone could be killed with it, but there were too many people in his way. Nobody wanted to yield for the Master of Security today; they cared more about a good vantage point for the fight then they did hacking off the intimidating soldier.
"I'll play this bout first. Set it by a while." Hamlet said, brushing the King off. To Laertes, he said, "Come!" and then attacked him once more. Gibbs breathed a sigh of relief… he had a few more seconds to try to grab that goblet.
"Another hit. What say you?" Hamlet crowed, brushing the sweat off of his face as he brought his sword up.
Laertes was showing signs of fear. "A touch, a touch. I do confess it."
The King was again on his feet. "Our son shall win!"
Gibbs paused to glare at the King. He's only your son when you're trying to kill him? What is your problem? He was getting more nervous; despite his best effort, he couldn't reach the goblet with the deadly pearl in it.
The Queen was beaming with pride. "Here, Hamlet, take my napkin; rub they brows. The Queen carouses to thy fortune, Hamlet."
Gibbs felt his heart stop… The Queen reached out, found the goblet with the pearl in it, and lifted it to her lips.
"Good madam," Hamlet replied in thanks to her encouragement.
"Gertrude! Do not drink!" Claudius barked so suddenly she almost dropped the cup. His expression was so severe as he reached to snatch the goblet away from her that it made her defensive.
She probably thinks he's mad that Hamlet's winning… She's right. But she's gonna be dead right if I can't stop her!
"I will, my lord; I pray you pardon me!" Gertrude snapped back, anger at his apparent disfavor obvious in her scowl. She lifted the glass to Hamlet, and took a deep swallow.
The King sagged back into his throne. Gibbs could see his lips moving, "It is the poisoned cup. It is too late…"
"I dare not drink yet, madam—by and by." Hamlet said, keeping a wary eye on Laertes, who was gazing with growing horror at the scene.
"Come, let me wipe thy face," Gertrude crooned, tugging her handkerchief free and trying to dab her resisting son's face.
"My lord, I'll hit him now," Laertes whispered to Claudius.
The King didn't seem to have heard. "I do not think it…"
Laertes looked at Hamlet, who had finally submitted to his mother's ministrations, unaware that they would be the last he'd ever experience from her. "And yet it is almost against my conscience."
Good! Let this stupidity stop here! Gibbs begged silently.
It was not to be. Hamlet shook himself free of his mother, and turned to face his opponent. "Come, for the third, Laertes. You do but dally. I pray you pass with your best violence. I am afeared you make a wonton of me!"
He's not playing with you like you're a child, Hamlet… He's trying to kill you; both he and that traitor wearing your father's crown!
That got Laertes' dander up. "Say you so? Come on!"
"Nothing neither way," Hamlet taunted, readying his sword.
"Have at you now!" Laertes cried, and the two fighters were once more at it.
They parried and slashed and jumped and ducked, stabbed and retreated and danced aside. Gibbs caught sight of DiNozzo watching the fight, and he tried to get his Lieutenant's attention to get him to stop them somehow, but DiNozzo wasn't in a position to see Gibbs' silent plea. Another brilliant riposte from Hamlet had Laertes ducking out of the way, but Hamlet's boot skidded on the floor that was slick with their sweat, and Laertes' sword darted in and caught his foe on the shoulder. A dark red scratch appeared on Hamlet's skin, and as the Prince stopped to assess the damage, it welled over and began snaking down his arm.
The mountebank of poison! Oh, no! He'd completely forgotten about it, what with the crime scene to process, the crazy funeral, the Prince weeping on his shoulder… I meant to get into Laertes' quarters and get rid of that! Gibbs tried not to let regret overwhelm him, but he knew there was nothing he could do; if Laertes did put that poison on his sword, it was only a matter of time before Hamlet succumbed.
The fencers were at it again. Hamlet was pretty upset at getting scratched, so he doubled his efforts to get back at Laertes. During the scuffle, both men slipped, and the swords clattered out of their hands. The fight was now beyond just a fencing match; it was a brawl. They threw punches, grappled, and raked at each other until they found the weapons. When they struggled back to their feet, Gibbs noticed that Hamlet now held Laertes' sword, and he was pressing in an advantage. It wasn't long before Laertes was bleeding from a long scratch down his arm.
"Part them! They are incensed!" the King bellowed.
"Nay, come again!" Hamlet taunted to Laertes, who had stopped and was staring at the sword in his opponent's hand with sick dread on his face.
The Queen tottered off of the throne, crumpling into an empty heap on the floor.
Gibbs whirled to stare at her, then spun to read Hamlet's face. Realization was dawning on the Prince's countenance, and it was enough to make the rest of the grand hall fall silent.
"Look to the Queen there, ho!" Osric, the judge, shouted.
Horatio could tell something was terribly wrong. "They bleed on both sides… How is it, my lord?"
"How is it, Laertes?" Osric cried to the other combatant.
Laertes looked sick, and he staggered a little. "Like a woodcock to mine own springe, Osric." He fell to his knees, swaying as the poison swept through his body. "I am justly killed with mine own treachery."
Yeah, you're right… you are like a stupid bird that got caught in it's own trap, Gibbs thought to himself. He looked between the stricken fencer and the stricken King. "You know what… you're both Idiots!" he informed them aloud.
"How does the Queen?" Hamlet demanded, stepping forwards. He swayed as well, and fear sparked behind his eyes.
"She swoons to see them bleed," the King tried to insist.
The Queen fought to lift her head. "No, no, the drink, the drink! O, my dear Hamlet! The drink, the drink! I am poisoned!" With a shuddering gasp, she died.
"O villainy! Ho! Let the door be locked!" Hamlet cried, sending Osric dashing to slam the heavy doors. "Treachery! Seek it out!"
"It is here, Hamlet!" Laertes called out, his voice clear and strong though his body looked frail. The entire court turned to look at him, and he hung his head. "Hamlet, thou art slain. No medicine in the world can do thee good. In thee there is not half an hour's life. The treacherous instrument is in thy hand, unbated and envenomed. The foul practice hath turned itself on me. Lo, here I lie, never to rise again. Thy mother's poisoned. I can no more. The King…" He broke off as his breath came in a ragged hitch. "The King's to blame…"
Hamlet spun to face his uncle/father. Gibbs noticed with a sinking heart that the turn wasn't graceful or coordinated, and Hamlet seemed to be having a hard time catching his breath. Forcing his eyes to focus, Hamlet fixed on his father's murderer. He held up Laertes' sword, the point glimmering red. An idea seemed to strike him. "The point envenomed too! Then, venom, to thy work!"
Moving much more quickly than someone about to die of poison should, Hamlet leapt up to the King's throne, dancing lightly over the body of his mother, and shoved the blade into Claudius' stomach.
"That'll leave a mark," DiNozzo mentioned at Gibbs' side, startling the Master of Security. Gibbs was grateful his lieutenant was there… not like he had an idea what they were going to do yet, but at least he was there.
The King squealed, falling backwards and off of the poisoned blade.
"Treason! Treason!" everyone in the room yelled.
"O, yet defend me, friends! I am but hurt!" the King wailed. However, everyone was fighting to get away from the treasonous dying lunatic King and the victimized dying lunatic Prince standing over him. The King looked at Gibbs in relief as the Master of Security fought to his side, but the relief died on his face when Gibbs opened his mouth.
"King Claudius, you are under arrest for the murders of King Hamlet, Lady Ophelia and Queen Gertrude, and the attempted murder of Prince Hamlet… You have the right to remain silent…"
Hamlet thought that was hysterical, but didn't wait for Gibbs to finish. "Here, thou incestuous, murderous Dane, Drink off this potion. Is thy pearl still here?" Hamlet demanded, scooping up the poisoned goblet and pouring the contents into Claudius' open mouth. The King tried to spit it up, but Hamlet's timing had been too good, and Claudius inhaled most of it.
"Follow my mother!" Hamlet screamed at him as the King choked, writhed, and finally expired.
Silence filled the hall for a moment as the crowd gazed on the scene in shock.
Laertes' wry chuckle was labored, yet somehow it filled the room. "He is justly served. It is a poison tempered by himself."
Hamlet tried to jump down from the throne, but his legs wouldn't listen to him anymore. He dropped the sword, and only after it hit the floor did Gibbs jump forwards to catch his dying Prince. At Hamlet's unspoken request, Gibbs half-carried him over to where Laertes lay.
"Exchange forgiveness with me, noble Hamlet. Mine and my father's death come not upon thee, nor thine on me," Laertes begged. He reached a hand up to try and grasp his former friend's, but he collapsed onto the floor as his strength and life fled together.
The Prince had grown so heavy that Gibbs couldn't support him any more, and had to lower him to the floor beside Laertes. "Heaven make thee free of it. I follow thee…" the Prince mumbled to his dead opponent.
Gibbs knew Hamlet's time was close; the Prince's pulse was thready and shallow, and he couldn't even lift his own head. "I am dead… Horatio…." Hamlet gasped, and Gibbs gestured for Horatio to come over.
The Prince's head rolled to look over at his mother. "Wretched queen, adieu…" His eyes wavered upwards, flitting between Horatio and Gibbs as he faded out. "You that look pale and tremble at this chance, that are but mutes or audience to this act, Had I but time (as this fell sergeant, Death, is strict in his arrest), O I could tell you…but…"
I don't believe it… the kid's dying and he's still going to rattle off a soliloquy! Gibbs wanted to shoot something, wanted to pound something into dust, wanted to rip something apart with his own hands. It wasn't fair!
"Let it be," Hamlet smiled, as if reading Gibbs' thoughts.
Horatio dug his fingers into the Prince's tunic, unwilling to believe his eyes.
"Horatio, I am dead," Hamlet tried to get through to him. "Thou livest; report me and my cause aright to the unsatisfied."
Horatio shook his head, tears splashing down over Gibbs and the Prince still cradled in his arms. "Never believe it! I am more an antique Roman than a Dane. Here's yet some liquor left!" He caught up the goblet that had rolled closer, intent upon licking the last of the poison from its depths.
Gibbs caught the goblet and stayed Horatio's hand at Hamlet's wordless plea. The Prince turned scolding eyes on his friend. "Give me the cup. Let go! By heaven, I'll have it." Hamlet's breath caught, and he took his old friend's hand. "O God, Horatio, what a wounded name, things standing thus unknown, shall I leave behind me! If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart, absent thee from felicity awhile and in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain to tell my story."
Horatio let the cup slide out of his fingers, and Gibbs caught it before it could splash over Hamlet. Horatio was still weeping, but the sound of gunfire interrupted whatever he was going to say.
"What warlike noise is this?" Hamlet wondered, gasping as he tried to sit up. Gibbs supported him as best as he could into a sitting position, but the kid's deadweight was killing him.
Osric entered, looking terrified and self important at the same time. "Young Fortinbras, with conquest come from Poland, to the ambassadors of England gives this warlike volley."
Hamlet's back arched in agony, and Gibbs had to let him slip back to the floor. "O, I die, Horatio! The potent poison quite o'ercrows my spirit… I cannot live to hear the news from England. But I do prophesy the election lights on Fortinbras; he has my dying voice. So tell him, with the occurrents, more and less, which have solicited…" He broke off, gasping for breath but unable to pull anything into his lungs. "The rest… is silence…" he panted. With a final twitch, he went limp.
Gibbs felt for a pulse, knowing it was useless.
At the sorrow on his face, Horatio covered his face with his hands. "Now cracks a noble heart. Good night, sweet prince…"
The doors burst open, accompanied by the sounds of many men marching.
"Why does the drum come hither?" Horatio asked Gibbs in a panic.
"As if I know?" Gibbs couldn't help but reply. He knew Horatio was stunned at losing his best friend, but blast it, Gibbs had just lost his Prince too!
The tall, painfully good looking, heavily muscled army general, Fortinbras, stalked into the room, followed by a handful of ambassadors and a complete color guard. He only allowed a flicker of surprise to cross his features as he surveyed the room and the dead bodies sprawled around it. "Where is this sight?"
Horatio gathered himself together, turning weary eyes to the general. "What is it you would see? If aught of woe or wonder, cease your search."
Fortinbras gazed again on the bodies. "This quarry cries on havoc. O proud Death, what feast is toward in thine eternal cell that thou so many princes at a shot so bloodily has struck?"
The English ambassador stepped forward. "The sight is dismal, and our affairs from England come too late. The ears are senseless that should give us hearing to tell him his commandment is fulfilled, that Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are dead. Where should we have our thanks?"
You don't want much, do you?
Horatio threw a rude gesture at the body of the former King. "Not from his mouth!" he snapped.
Gibbs almost smiled.
"Had it the ability of life to thank you," Horatio continued. "He never gave commandment for their death." When the English ambassador bridled in protest, Horatio cut him off. "But since, so jump upon this bloody question, you from the Polish wars, and you from England, are here arrived, give orders that these bodies high on a stage be placed to the view, and let me speak to the yet unknowing world how these things came about. So shall you hear of carnal, bloody, and unnatural acts, of accidental judgments, casual slaughters, of deaths put on by cunning and forced cause, and, in this upshot, purposes mistook fallen on the inventors' heads. All this I can truly deliver."
Yeah, it plays out like a scripted tragedy, all right, Gibbs had to acknowledge. Somebody really ought to write this down…
Fortinbras nodded. "Let us haste to hear it…"
Before everybody starts to smell…
"…and call the noblest to the audience. For me, with sorrow I embrace my fortune. I have some rights of memory in this kingdom which now to claim my vantage doth invite me."
Since there's nobody else around to stop you, Gibbs thought wearily.
Horatio nodded. "Of that I shall have also cause to speak, and from his mouth," he said, gesturing to the dead Prince in Gibbs' arms, "whose voice will draw on more. But let this same be presently performed even while men's minds are wild, lest more mischance on plots and errors happen."
Fortinbras made a gesture to his color guard, and the soldiers snapped into position. "Let four captains bear Hamlet like a soldier to the stage, for he was likely, had he been put on, to have proved most royal."
I like this new guy already, Gibbs had to admit as the four captains picked up the body of the dead Prince with reverence.
"And, for his right of passage, the soldier's music and the rite of war speak loudly for him," Fortinbras continued, and the musicians he had with him readied their instruments. "Take up the bodies," he ordered more of his men, who jumped to their assigned task. "Such a night as this becomes the field but here shows much amiss. Go, bid the soldiers shoot."
As the honor guard raced outside and fired off their salute, Gibbs accepted DiNozzo's hand and got to his feet.
"Boss… They're all… The Prince too," DiNozzo began helplessly.
"Go get Ducky," Gibbs ordered, his voice threatening to break under his sorrow. "Oh, and DiNozzo?" When the Lieutenant turned back, Gibbs gestured to the new General, who was in the process of crowning himself King of Denmark. "Looks like we're working for Fortinbras anyways…"
"Yeah, Boss… I guess we are," DiNozzo returned with a sad smile.