"Mom!" the boy shouted, running from the tree grove. "Mom!"
"What? What's wrong?" The boy's mother ran from the house, panicked.
"Mom, it was awful..." he started, but before he could finish, his eyes went blank and his face took on a peaceful appearance. His mother, alarmed, wondered whether she should touch him. Before she could make up her mind, a car backfired on the street, disrupting her thoughts. She turned, searching for the offending vehicle, but no cars were on the street. Scared now, she turned back to her son. He looked perfectly normal now.
"What did you want to tell me, honey?" she asked gently.
"What? What are you talking about?"
She didn't know what to think. She was about to chalk it up to one of those 'unsolved mysteries' and go inside when something caught her eye. A dress shoe was glinting in the sun, sticking out from behind a large bush at the edge of the grove. Telling the boy to get inside, she walked closer, dreading what she would find. Sure enough, the shoe was connected to a person and the person was not moving. He lay sprawled on the ground, as if he had just fallen, in a Navy uniform. Suppressing a scream, she ran inside to call 911.
********
"Ducky!"
The medical examiner straightened from his crouched position over the body. The owner of the gruff voice was striding toward him, a scowl on his face.
"No, Jethro," Ducky said before Gibbs even opened his mouth.
"No what?"
"No, I don't have a time of death yet," Ducky confirmed.
"Well, what do you have?" Gibbs asked impatiently.
"Nothing."
"What?"
"Nothing. Our Lieutenant Commander, aside from being quite dead, is in perfect health. No sign of asphyxiation, no wounds, no obvious effects of poison. The tox report will have to confirm that one, but right now poison is the only thing I can think of."
"Okay, Duck. Let me know as soon as you have anything." Gibbs sighed in frustration. Starting off to ask Kate how her photos were coming, Gibbs saw a strange sight. A young man, probably 19 or 20, was walking around holding a stick. He was tall and had bright red hair, freckles, and too- small clothes. He waved the stick slowly over the ground, like a metal detector, seeming to search for something. As Gibbs approached him, he lifted the stick quickly, as if to attack, but seemed to remember something.
********
Ron Weasley, Auror-in-Training, was working his first case without a supervisor. Proud but nervous, he was trying to casually conduct a standard curse-detection sweep amidst a whole bunch of Muggle please-men. Normally Muggles were not a problem because Aurors got to a crime scene before them, but Ron had been having trouble Apparating lately. He had accidentally gone to Norfolk, England, instead of Norfolk, Virginia, before getting it right. Therefore, he had to do his tests surrounded by Muggles.
He looked up as a stern-looking, silver-haired Muggle approached him. The Muggle had obviously seen him doing the sweep. He lifted his wand, preparing to wipe the Muggle's memory, but remembered suddenly his awful inability with Memory Charms. He lowered his wand and braced himself to play Muggle.
"Excuse me, sir, this is a crime scene. You're going to have to leave," the Muggle said, leaving no room for argument.
Ron played innocent. "Oh, sorry. I was, er, looking for..." he glanced around quickly for inspiration. "Leaves! For..." Ron remembered an odd Muggle habit his dad had told him about. "For my collection!"
The Muggle raised an eyebrow. He was clearly not buying it. "On second thought, I think I'd like to ask you a few questions. Follow me." The Muggle headed toward a large van with the letters NCIS written on the side.
Ron could not help himself. His father's fondness for Muggles had rubbed off on him. "Oh, cool! Are we going to the please station?" he asked eagerly.
The Muggle looked at him strangely. "The what?"
"The please station! Or is it the poh-lise station?"
"The Police Station? No, we're not going there. We're going to NCIS headquarters."
"Oh," Ron said disappointedly.
********
Gibbs looked at his extra passenger in the rearview mirror. Kate sat with the young man in the back of the truck, responding to his animated questions. He caught snatches of the conversation, but it didn't make much sense.
"I drove my father's car once, but it took off..."
"What's that? A guh-un? Cool..."
"Are you a please-woman?" "Wicked..."
"What's your name?" Gibbs asked the young man. He looked for an instant like he was trying to remember something, then shrugged and responded.
"Ron Weasley," he said.
"Special Agent Jethro Gibbs," Gibbs replied, realizing that he should have done this a long time ago.
"Pleased to meet you, Agent Gibbs," the youth returned.
********
Ron was excited out of his mind. He was riding with Muggles in a Muggle truck, going to see a Muggle facility of some type. He couldn't help asking lots of questions. When Agent Gibbs had asked his name, he had tried to remember if there was any rule about giving your name to Muggles. If there was, he didn't recall it.
The Muggle woman, Kate, was gorgeous and very kind. She answered his questions easily and asked him several of her own. She and the younger Muggle, Tony, acted a lot like Ron and Ginny.
Ron did remember his mission in the midst of all his excitement about Muggles. The way he figured, they were helping him. They, too, were trying to find the murderer. Who knew? Maybe their Muggle techniques would come in handy. At least, that's what he planned on telling his supervisor.
--------
"Jethro," Ducky began. "I don't know what to make of this one. It's like nothing I've ever seen before."
Gibbs glanced up, startled. For a case not to remind Ducky of something, somewhere, sometime, was strange indeed.
"Have you ID'd him?" Gibbs asked, steering the conversation back to familiar territory.
"Yes," Ducky pronounced, seemingly pleased to be able to give some useful information. "Lieutenant Commander Tyler Patterson. In charge of the commissary at Norfolk."
"Thanks, Duck. Do you have the tox report yet?"
"Ah, yes, of course. This is the strangest part. Again, nothing. No poison, certainly. No alcohol, even. This fellow has absolutely no business being dead."
Gibbs' brow furrowed in frustration. He had no idea what was going on and that bothered him. Suddenly, he turned and stormed from Autopsy, heading upstairs as quickly as he could.
"Kate, with me," he barked. "Tony, look up Lieutenant Commander Tyler Patterson. I want his life history."
"You got it, boss," Tony replied, turning to the computer and going to work. Kate followed Gibbs to the interrogation room.
"How's our nutcase?" Gibbs asked.
"He's not a nutcase, Gibbs," Kate responded. "He's really quite rational. He's just fascinated by everything around him. It's like...it's like he's not really from earth."
Gibbs just looked at her. As they looked through the window into the room, Ron Weasley was talking enthusiastically with the interrogator. Gibbs decided to take matters into his own hands.
Entering the room like he meant business, Gibbs ushered the other interrogator out and got to work.
"Your name is Ron Weasley, correct?"
"Yeah."
"Age?"
"Twenty. Well, this summer, anyway."
"Occupation?"
"Umm, Agent Gibbs, could I ask a favor?" Weasley's ears had gone red and Gibbs recognized his discomfort.
"What?"
"I'm really sorry about this, mate, but I don't have a choice..." Weasley suddenly grabbed Gibbs' hand and slammed it into the table. Before Gibbs could retaliate, or even react at all, he felt a jerk behind his navel and a sensation of traveling forward very fast.
********
Ron regretted having to do something so drastic, but he was getting desperate. The Muggles were questioning him and getting closer and closer to finding out about him. He hoped his supervisor would see the inevitability of his actions. He had, after all, broken several statutes. He had let a Muggle see him using his wand. He had made an unauthorized portkey. He had transported a Muggle on said portkey in full view of other Muggles. The list went on. Ron's stomach turned with dread as he thought of what his supervisor would say. He hoped his mistakes could be corrected, for the most part, with the Memory Modification of Agent Gibbs.
They landed with a thud in the alley behind the visitor's entrance to the Ministry. Ron shoved a speechless Gibbs into the phone booth and dialed.
"Ron Weasley, Auror-in-Training, escorting Jethro Gibbs, material witness," Ron said hurriedly after the cool female voice asked for their names.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic," the voice said as the booth started downward. Ron glanced at Agent Gibbs. His eyes could not open any wider and he was rubbing his head, as if he thought perhaps he had hit it extremely hard on something. Ron dragged him to the elevator and selected the floor for Magical Law Enforcement. As several memos flew in behind them, Ron heard a thud. Turning around he saw Agent Gibbs seated on the floor, his legs having given out, staring widely around at everything. Ron almost laughed. He always enjoyed Muggles' reactions to the magical world.
********
Gibbs sat in shock on the floor of the elevator. He had just seen paper airplanes flying around all by themselves. Pushing himself up off the floor, he kept his hand on the wall to steady his shaky legs. He was dreaming. That had to be it. Weasley had slammed him to the ground or on the table or something, his head had been hit, and he was dreaming. There was no other rational explanation.
Weasley dragged him off when they reached their floor. Winding their way through people, male and female, wearing what looked like dresses, they came to a desk behind which was seated a woman with her nose buried in a book. It was difficult to see her face, but she had bushy brown hair and wore a dress-thing similar to everyone else's. Weasley greeted her pleasantly.
"Hey, Hermione! Look what I found," he said, pulling Gibbs forward.
The woman looked up and her eyes widened. "Ron! You brought a Muggle to the Ministry? What were you thinking? What's Kingsley going to say? Oh, we are in so much trouble..." She was wringing her hands by now, thoroughly upset. She paced for a few moments, then seemed to reach a conclusion. "You'll just have to modify his memory," she stated matter-of- factly.
Weasley opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then changed his mind. Gibbs recognized the look on his face, the look that said he wanted to impress a girl. He pulled out the stick Gibbs had seen earlier and raised it.
"Obliviate!" he cried, clearly trying hard to do something. Gibbs promptly forgot what he had had for dinner last night.
********
Ron was nervous. He needed Hermione's help to get him out of this mess, but she was clearly not to happy with him right now.
"What did you bring him here for anyway?" a slightly calmer Hermione asked.
"He was about to find out about me..." Ron answered weakly, immediately knowing that was the wrong thing to say.
"Well, he certainly knows now, doesn't he?" Hermione hissed. "Him and half the Muggle world!"
Ron had only one card left to play. "I thought maybe he could help?"
That started Hermione thinking. Ron knew that, as a Muggle-born, Hermione had a certain appreciation for Muggle technology. Although Muggle stuff fascinated him, he personally couldn't see the use of a fellytone when Floo was just as good and much easier.
Hermione finally sighed. "All right," she consented. "But Kingsley doesn't find out. And," she held up her hand, seeing his mouth open. "And I'm in charge."
Ron agreed, trying not to look too enthusiastic. He didn't mind Hermione being in charge. She was much better at this kind of thing anyway.
The Muggle continued to be stunned by each new Magic development. Ron heard him gasp when a nearby mug-shot told him where to go and saw his eyes widen when Ron shut the mug-shot up with a Silencing Charm. He almost passed out when an Auror apparated right in front of them. Though Ron seriously doubted the agent's ability to help in the first place, he realized that any remote chance of his being useful was nullified by his confusion and fear.
"Hermione, we should take him somewhere quieter. Somewhere less...magical," Ron suggested.
"Good point, Ron. Um, how about number 12?"
"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Harry won't mind. But," he paused, considering an important matter. "How do we get him there?" He gestured toward Agent Gibbs.
"Floo's easiest," Hermione replied, clearly having thought about it. "We should go now, while the fires are less busy."
********
Gibbs mutely followed his...guides, he supposed, though he considered them more as captors. He was starting to realize, primarily because of the throbbing pain in his hand, that this was not a dream. He didn't understand half of what they were saying; words like 'Muggle' and 'Floo' kept flying over his head. They both carried the thin sticks he had seen on Weasley earlier. He didn't know what they were, but he reasoned that in this bizarre place it would not be absurd to call them magic wands.
Weasley and the woman, Hermione, led him to a row of fireplaces in the lobby area. They then proceeded to instruct him in the use of something called 'Floo powder'. He watched Hermione throw a pinch of the stuff into the flames, then, to his alarm, she stepped into them and called out what sounded like an address.
"Number 12, Grimmauld Place," she shouted.
Afraid to look, Gibbs turned his head to avoid witnessing the horrible death of what seemed like a rather nice girl. But, to his surprise, there was no screaming, no awful smell of burning cloth and flesh. She had simply disappeared. He was interested to find that his capacity to be amazed had not yet run dry.
It was his turn, apparently. Weasley threw some more of the powder into the fire, turning the flames bright green, and shoved Gibbs inside. Weasley yelled the address for him, fortunately, because he still couldn't speak. Gibbs then found himself on the most unpleasant ride of his life. He could sleep on military transports, but this was a million times worse. He was spinning very fast, his vision a blur, his stomach churning. His arms knocked into things, so he tucked them into his sides. He closed his eyes, just in time to quell the nausea that threatened to become more. After what seemed like an eternity, he felt solid ground underneath him and fell forward onto a stone floor.
"What? What's wrong?" The boy's mother ran from the house, panicked.
"Mom, it was awful..." he started, but before he could finish, his eyes went blank and his face took on a peaceful appearance. His mother, alarmed, wondered whether she should touch him. Before she could make up her mind, a car backfired on the street, disrupting her thoughts. She turned, searching for the offending vehicle, but no cars were on the street. Scared now, she turned back to her son. He looked perfectly normal now.
"What did you want to tell me, honey?" she asked gently.
"What? What are you talking about?"
She didn't know what to think. She was about to chalk it up to one of those 'unsolved mysteries' and go inside when something caught her eye. A dress shoe was glinting in the sun, sticking out from behind a large bush at the edge of the grove. Telling the boy to get inside, she walked closer, dreading what she would find. Sure enough, the shoe was connected to a person and the person was not moving. He lay sprawled on the ground, as if he had just fallen, in a Navy uniform. Suppressing a scream, she ran inside to call 911.
********
"Ducky!"
The medical examiner straightened from his crouched position over the body. The owner of the gruff voice was striding toward him, a scowl on his face.
"No, Jethro," Ducky said before Gibbs even opened his mouth.
"No what?"
"No, I don't have a time of death yet," Ducky confirmed.
"Well, what do you have?" Gibbs asked impatiently.
"Nothing."
"What?"
"Nothing. Our Lieutenant Commander, aside from being quite dead, is in perfect health. No sign of asphyxiation, no wounds, no obvious effects of poison. The tox report will have to confirm that one, but right now poison is the only thing I can think of."
"Okay, Duck. Let me know as soon as you have anything." Gibbs sighed in frustration. Starting off to ask Kate how her photos were coming, Gibbs saw a strange sight. A young man, probably 19 or 20, was walking around holding a stick. He was tall and had bright red hair, freckles, and too- small clothes. He waved the stick slowly over the ground, like a metal detector, seeming to search for something. As Gibbs approached him, he lifted the stick quickly, as if to attack, but seemed to remember something.
********
Ron Weasley, Auror-in-Training, was working his first case without a supervisor. Proud but nervous, he was trying to casually conduct a standard curse-detection sweep amidst a whole bunch of Muggle please-men. Normally Muggles were not a problem because Aurors got to a crime scene before them, but Ron had been having trouble Apparating lately. He had accidentally gone to Norfolk, England, instead of Norfolk, Virginia, before getting it right. Therefore, he had to do his tests surrounded by Muggles.
He looked up as a stern-looking, silver-haired Muggle approached him. The Muggle had obviously seen him doing the sweep. He lifted his wand, preparing to wipe the Muggle's memory, but remembered suddenly his awful inability with Memory Charms. He lowered his wand and braced himself to play Muggle.
"Excuse me, sir, this is a crime scene. You're going to have to leave," the Muggle said, leaving no room for argument.
Ron played innocent. "Oh, sorry. I was, er, looking for..." he glanced around quickly for inspiration. "Leaves! For..." Ron remembered an odd Muggle habit his dad had told him about. "For my collection!"
The Muggle raised an eyebrow. He was clearly not buying it. "On second thought, I think I'd like to ask you a few questions. Follow me." The Muggle headed toward a large van with the letters NCIS written on the side.
Ron could not help himself. His father's fondness for Muggles had rubbed off on him. "Oh, cool! Are we going to the please station?" he asked eagerly.
The Muggle looked at him strangely. "The what?"
"The please station! Or is it the poh-lise station?"
"The Police Station? No, we're not going there. We're going to NCIS headquarters."
"Oh," Ron said disappointedly.
********
Gibbs looked at his extra passenger in the rearview mirror. Kate sat with the young man in the back of the truck, responding to his animated questions. He caught snatches of the conversation, but it didn't make much sense.
"I drove my father's car once, but it took off..."
"What's that? A guh-un? Cool..."
"Are you a please-woman?" "Wicked..."
"What's your name?" Gibbs asked the young man. He looked for an instant like he was trying to remember something, then shrugged and responded.
"Ron Weasley," he said.
"Special Agent Jethro Gibbs," Gibbs replied, realizing that he should have done this a long time ago.
"Pleased to meet you, Agent Gibbs," the youth returned.
********
Ron was excited out of his mind. He was riding with Muggles in a Muggle truck, going to see a Muggle facility of some type. He couldn't help asking lots of questions. When Agent Gibbs had asked his name, he had tried to remember if there was any rule about giving your name to Muggles. If there was, he didn't recall it.
The Muggle woman, Kate, was gorgeous and very kind. She answered his questions easily and asked him several of her own. She and the younger Muggle, Tony, acted a lot like Ron and Ginny.
Ron did remember his mission in the midst of all his excitement about Muggles. The way he figured, they were helping him. They, too, were trying to find the murderer. Who knew? Maybe their Muggle techniques would come in handy. At least, that's what he planned on telling his supervisor.
--------
"Jethro," Ducky began. "I don't know what to make of this one. It's like nothing I've ever seen before."
Gibbs glanced up, startled. For a case not to remind Ducky of something, somewhere, sometime, was strange indeed.
"Have you ID'd him?" Gibbs asked, steering the conversation back to familiar territory.
"Yes," Ducky pronounced, seemingly pleased to be able to give some useful information. "Lieutenant Commander Tyler Patterson. In charge of the commissary at Norfolk."
"Thanks, Duck. Do you have the tox report yet?"
"Ah, yes, of course. This is the strangest part. Again, nothing. No poison, certainly. No alcohol, even. This fellow has absolutely no business being dead."
Gibbs' brow furrowed in frustration. He had no idea what was going on and that bothered him. Suddenly, he turned and stormed from Autopsy, heading upstairs as quickly as he could.
"Kate, with me," he barked. "Tony, look up Lieutenant Commander Tyler Patterson. I want his life history."
"You got it, boss," Tony replied, turning to the computer and going to work. Kate followed Gibbs to the interrogation room.
"How's our nutcase?" Gibbs asked.
"He's not a nutcase, Gibbs," Kate responded. "He's really quite rational. He's just fascinated by everything around him. It's like...it's like he's not really from earth."
Gibbs just looked at her. As they looked through the window into the room, Ron Weasley was talking enthusiastically with the interrogator. Gibbs decided to take matters into his own hands.
Entering the room like he meant business, Gibbs ushered the other interrogator out and got to work.
"Your name is Ron Weasley, correct?"
"Yeah."
"Age?"
"Twenty. Well, this summer, anyway."
"Occupation?"
"Umm, Agent Gibbs, could I ask a favor?" Weasley's ears had gone red and Gibbs recognized his discomfort.
"What?"
"I'm really sorry about this, mate, but I don't have a choice..." Weasley suddenly grabbed Gibbs' hand and slammed it into the table. Before Gibbs could retaliate, or even react at all, he felt a jerk behind his navel and a sensation of traveling forward very fast.
********
Ron regretted having to do something so drastic, but he was getting desperate. The Muggles were questioning him and getting closer and closer to finding out about him. He hoped his supervisor would see the inevitability of his actions. He had, after all, broken several statutes. He had let a Muggle see him using his wand. He had made an unauthorized portkey. He had transported a Muggle on said portkey in full view of other Muggles. The list went on. Ron's stomach turned with dread as he thought of what his supervisor would say. He hoped his mistakes could be corrected, for the most part, with the Memory Modification of Agent Gibbs.
They landed with a thud in the alley behind the visitor's entrance to the Ministry. Ron shoved a speechless Gibbs into the phone booth and dialed.
"Ron Weasley, Auror-in-Training, escorting Jethro Gibbs, material witness," Ron said hurriedly after the cool female voice asked for their names.
"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic," the voice said as the booth started downward. Ron glanced at Agent Gibbs. His eyes could not open any wider and he was rubbing his head, as if he thought perhaps he had hit it extremely hard on something. Ron dragged him to the elevator and selected the floor for Magical Law Enforcement. As several memos flew in behind them, Ron heard a thud. Turning around he saw Agent Gibbs seated on the floor, his legs having given out, staring widely around at everything. Ron almost laughed. He always enjoyed Muggles' reactions to the magical world.
********
Gibbs sat in shock on the floor of the elevator. He had just seen paper airplanes flying around all by themselves. Pushing himself up off the floor, he kept his hand on the wall to steady his shaky legs. He was dreaming. That had to be it. Weasley had slammed him to the ground or on the table or something, his head had been hit, and he was dreaming. There was no other rational explanation.
Weasley dragged him off when they reached their floor. Winding their way through people, male and female, wearing what looked like dresses, they came to a desk behind which was seated a woman with her nose buried in a book. It was difficult to see her face, but she had bushy brown hair and wore a dress-thing similar to everyone else's. Weasley greeted her pleasantly.
"Hey, Hermione! Look what I found," he said, pulling Gibbs forward.
The woman looked up and her eyes widened. "Ron! You brought a Muggle to the Ministry? What were you thinking? What's Kingsley going to say? Oh, we are in so much trouble..." She was wringing her hands by now, thoroughly upset. She paced for a few moments, then seemed to reach a conclusion. "You'll just have to modify his memory," she stated matter-of- factly.
Weasley opened his mouth like he was going to say something, then changed his mind. Gibbs recognized the look on his face, the look that said he wanted to impress a girl. He pulled out the stick Gibbs had seen earlier and raised it.
"Obliviate!" he cried, clearly trying hard to do something. Gibbs promptly forgot what he had had for dinner last night.
********
Ron was nervous. He needed Hermione's help to get him out of this mess, but she was clearly not to happy with him right now.
"What did you bring him here for anyway?" a slightly calmer Hermione asked.
"He was about to find out about me..." Ron answered weakly, immediately knowing that was the wrong thing to say.
"Well, he certainly knows now, doesn't he?" Hermione hissed. "Him and half the Muggle world!"
Ron had only one card left to play. "I thought maybe he could help?"
That started Hermione thinking. Ron knew that, as a Muggle-born, Hermione had a certain appreciation for Muggle technology. Although Muggle stuff fascinated him, he personally couldn't see the use of a fellytone when Floo was just as good and much easier.
Hermione finally sighed. "All right," she consented. "But Kingsley doesn't find out. And," she held up her hand, seeing his mouth open. "And I'm in charge."
Ron agreed, trying not to look too enthusiastic. He didn't mind Hermione being in charge. She was much better at this kind of thing anyway.
The Muggle continued to be stunned by each new Magic development. Ron heard him gasp when a nearby mug-shot told him where to go and saw his eyes widen when Ron shut the mug-shot up with a Silencing Charm. He almost passed out when an Auror apparated right in front of them. Though Ron seriously doubted the agent's ability to help in the first place, he realized that any remote chance of his being useful was nullified by his confusion and fear.
"Hermione, we should take him somewhere quieter. Somewhere less...magical," Ron suggested.
"Good point, Ron. Um, how about number 12?"
"Yeah," Ron agreed. "Harry won't mind. But," he paused, considering an important matter. "How do we get him there?" He gestured toward Agent Gibbs.
"Floo's easiest," Hermione replied, clearly having thought about it. "We should go now, while the fires are less busy."
********
Gibbs mutely followed his...guides, he supposed, though he considered them more as captors. He was starting to realize, primarily because of the throbbing pain in his hand, that this was not a dream. He didn't understand half of what they were saying; words like 'Muggle' and 'Floo' kept flying over his head. They both carried the thin sticks he had seen on Weasley earlier. He didn't know what they were, but he reasoned that in this bizarre place it would not be absurd to call them magic wands.
Weasley and the woman, Hermione, led him to a row of fireplaces in the lobby area. They then proceeded to instruct him in the use of something called 'Floo powder'. He watched Hermione throw a pinch of the stuff into the flames, then, to his alarm, she stepped into them and called out what sounded like an address.
"Number 12, Grimmauld Place," she shouted.
Afraid to look, Gibbs turned his head to avoid witnessing the horrible death of what seemed like a rather nice girl. But, to his surprise, there was no screaming, no awful smell of burning cloth and flesh. She had simply disappeared. He was interested to find that his capacity to be amazed had not yet run dry.
It was his turn, apparently. Weasley threw some more of the powder into the fire, turning the flames bright green, and shoved Gibbs inside. Weasley yelled the address for him, fortunately, because he still couldn't speak. Gibbs then found himself on the most unpleasant ride of his life. He could sleep on military transports, but this was a million times worse. He was spinning very fast, his vision a blur, his stomach churning. His arms knocked into things, so he tucked them into his sides. He closed his eyes, just in time to quell the nausea that threatened to become more. After what seemed like an eternity, he felt solid ground underneath him and fell forward onto a stone floor.