Purgatory

Chapter 13 - Failure

Gibbs sat in the same chair, in the same room, that he had been in more times than he cared to remember. He knew why he was there. He knew Rathburn would soon arrive to exact his vengeance upon Gibbs for his escape; enjoying the role as personal benefactor of Gibbs' torment.

His body hurt, which had become the norm. But today his mind swirled with conflicting thoughts and emotions rising from his vision of Shannon and EJ which played over and over in his mind. On one hand, he had regained a sense of urgency that he must find some way to either escape, or thwart Rathburn's plans from within his captivity - if he only knew what those plans were. On the other hand, his fear that Rathburn would soon make good on his promise to kill his friends made him question whether or not it was wise to abandon his plan to end his life and neutralize that threat. The words of the only two women he had ever really loved in his life still echoed in his mind, making any decision seem impossible.

As he struggled with his thoughts he heard footsteps in the hallway. His guard's voice greeted Rathburn.

"Good morning, Boss," Darrow acknowledged as Rathburn's footsteps stopped.

"When did he regain consciousness?" Rathburn asked.

"About 30 minutes ago."

"And he was out all night?"

"Yeah, Boss. At one point I thought he was dead. I had to go in and make sure he was still breathing. When he woke up he was pretty incoherent so I used smelling-salts to bring him around."

"Did you give him water?"

"Yeah, Boss. Just like you said."

"So he's fully awake?"

"Oh, yeah! He cussed me out when he woke up but I popped him a good one. That's why there's blood on his mouth."

"I told you he was not to be touched; not to be harmed in any way!" there was anger in Rathburn's voice.

"I know, Boss. It was a ... reflex," Darrow said, his voice was stressed, thick with tension.

Rathburn's tone turned dismissive. "No matter," he said. "He will soon be as docile as a lamb."

Gibbs heard Rathburn walk into the room behind him, circling around Gibbs to the chair across from him. As Rathburn came into view Gibbs locked unblinking eyes on the man as he sat, a large manila envelope in his hand.

"Very inconsiderate of you, Mr. Gibbs," Rathburn said from behind a snide smile while he shook his finger back and forth at Gibbs, "leaving without saying goodbye."

He bowed his head and looked up from under his dark eyebrows. The smile on his oversized lips turned from smug to cruel as he continued, "And after I have been such a gracious host. I am disappointed and, quite frankly, offended. Really, Mr. Gibbs …, your insensitivity is astonishing!"

Still somewhat groggy Gibbs continued to stare at Rathburn, running possible scenarios through his fuzzy mind about where this particular meeting would end up. Would Rathburn decide to implement some horrendous new torture as punishment for his escape? Or had his time run out where Rathburn didn't need him anymore and he would soon be dead? The later possibility didn't frighten him any longer. Instead, he felt his stomach turn at that possibility because it would mean Rathburn didn't need his information any longer. And, if that was the case, it meant this deranged terrorist was moving ahead with whatever his plans were and that would certainly result in the death of innocent people.

Gibbs' eyes dropped to the envelope in Rathburn's hand as the man's long, slender index finger began to stroke it slowly, back and forth. Rathburn caught Gibbs' glance to his hand and a faint chuckle escaped his throat.

"Mr. Gibbs, I was hoping it would not come to this. As I have said before, I am a reasonable man. But your stubbornness left me no choice. You know exactly the information I desire, and yet you continue to defy me. I am afraid the time of gentle persuasion is over," Rathburn said, his voice sickeningly sweet.

"It is ironic, is it not," Rathburn continued, "that in your attempt to … how did you put it a while back … 'save innocent lives' …, that you have caused the exact opposite to happen to someone close to you."

Gibbs felt a sharp burning ignite in his stomach and spread like wildfire up through his chest. A burning not of pain, but of fear. His breath came shallow and fast as his heart raced. He knew his feelings were clear on his face; he had neither the physical or emotional resilience to hide them. What had this madman gone and done? What had he allowed this maniac to do?

Rathburn turned sideways in his chair and draped one leg over the other, feigning an apathetic yawn and looked down at the envelope in his hands.

"Here," he said, tossing the envelope to Gibbs who struggled weakly to grab it as it landed in his lap. "You may be interested in this morning's news."

Gibbs opened the envelope and pulled out several sheets of paper; printed web pages from the CNN news blog. He stared at the headline, stunned. Swallowing hard he forced himself to read the first paragraph. Frantically he dug further and pulled out a newspaper clipping of a Washington Post article about the same subject. As he skimmed the article a murderous rage began to build inside him. He looked up at Rathburn and found the man looking intently back at him, gauging him, analyzing his reaction to the news from the envelope.

As his anger seethed inside, Gibbs attempted to unscramble his thoughts. He was about to speak when Rathburn looked to someone at the back of the room behind Gibbs and made a thumbs-up sign. Immediately a flat panel television mounted on the side wall of the room came to life. A news reporter stood outside the gate of the Navy Yard NCIS office, his microphone displaying the local television news station's logo. Gibbs' eyes riveted to the screen as the reporter spoke.

'Tragedy struck last night as a federal agent of the Naval Criminal Investigative Services agency was murdered. NCIS Special Agent Erica Jane Barrett was found shot to death in her home yesterday morning.'

The image on the screen switched from the reporter to a street view Gibbs' house. The reporter's voice-over continued.

'An NCIS spokesperson said the agency would withhold details pending the completion of an investigation into Barrett's murder. Given the classified nature of Barrett's work, details about her are sketchy. However, the NCIS spokesperson did confirm that Barrett was a veteran agent with 12 years of service at the agency. Calls left today for NCIS Director, Jerome Craig, were not returned. Barrett was not married and had no children. She is survived by her mother who resides in the Midwest. Reporting for Channel 2 News, this is Michael Samson.'

As the reporter finished, the camera shot returned to him standing outside of the NCIS office. Then the video paused, the reporter's face frozen on the screen. Gibbs sat completely still, his mind racing.

He heard something drop onto the papers in his lap and he snapped his head forward to see Rathburn standing over him. "Overnight express delivery ... a wonder of the modern world," Rathburn chided.

He had been so stupefied he had not noticed Rathburn rise and walk over to him.

Rathburn locked eyes with him for a moment and then strode toward the door, speaking quietly as he passed Gibbs. "Who will be the next person to pay for your stubbornness?"

As Rathburn exited the room Gibbs looked down at his lap, wondering what Rathburn had dropped there. Sitting on top of the papers cradled between his legs was a silver, cameo locket with a white, carved rose set on a black onyx background.

He stared at the locket, afraid to pickup it up, fearful it would burn the flesh from his hands if he touched it. When he had slipped it into EJ's hand over ten years ago it had been a symbol of his new found love for her. During the ensuing decade she had told him she had kept it close, a symbol of her unrequited love for him.

Now …, now it was a symbol of his most utter and most complete failure. He had failed her, the woman he loved more than life itself. In his hesitation to act, in his selfish desire to try and keep his own life rather than ending it in order to protect her, he had condemned EJ to death.

Gibbs body went slack and he slumped down in the chair. The searing pain in his chest turned from rage to agonizing grief as his mind went blank. Tears streamed down his face as he felt the will to live drain from his body. It was time to end it, once and for all, and after his failure to protect EJ, he deserved nothing less.

###