Chapter 3
It was on the next day that Ducky realized he was losing his fear of his ordeal. The fear had been replaced with ennui. While the book he had started the previous day was interesting, it couldn't hold his attention. After an early bottle of orange juice and half a chapter read, Ducky set the book aside and did some aerobic exercises before taking a shower.
He then thought of plotting an escape…but on the other hand, the weather was gloomy and the window cold to the touch. It really was a nicer day to stay inside. Strange that I should feel that way, he thought, and then thought again. On the other hand, perhaps the soldier's all-consuming duty to escape is nothing like real-life drama. I am a poppet, and a prisoner of war. Yet there is value to my life as well…and perhaps I should not take unnecessary risks. Be sensible; not rash.
Yet he couldn't shake the notion that being comfortable was not something to be valued above all else. There was an unquenchable desire to be free; to live his own life and do his daily tasks and his job…My job! However are they managing without me? He shook away an unbidden mental image of Jimmy running Autopsy all by himself, appalling half the HQ staff. Until Jethro knocked him flat, that is. No, Jimmy was not that capable yet; surely they would see that. They would bring in someone to substitute for him. In time, that person would take over completely, and…
This line of thinking would lead only to madness, he realized. Things weren't really so bad, as it was. Captives were often portrayed as being shackled in dungeons. What he missed most was knowing what was going on in the outside world. No TV here. No radio. No computer. No phone…although that was to be expected, in this pretty little dungeon.
Ducky almost wasn't surprised when Ari came up with a breakfast tray (although he had been about to get out cold cereal and milk). French toast today, with sausages and a peach. The rising scent of cinnamon was appealing.
"What is happening in the world outside?" Ducky asked, stalling Ari's departure with the empty tray. "I have no news, no frame of reference…"
"You haven't missed much, Doctor," Ari said with a chuckle. "The stock market is about the same. There are celebrities marrying, divorcing, having babies. There is tension in the usual places in the world. Nothing out of the usual."
"Aha. So you, at least, have tuned into the news."
Ari shrugged.
"And you speak of tension in the usual places. Does that pique your interest?"
"Meaning, Doctor?"
"Well, you are a political man. You have your issues that drive you."
"Don't we all? I dare say, Doctor; just as I have mine, you have yours."
"But the difference is—"
"Slight. The difference is slight. Not much more than the philosophy of two political parties in a country. I am striving for a world in which we can all live in peace, the way that God meant us to live. No, no—" Ari held up a hand. "—yes, our methods to that end are different. But in our hearts, the goal is the same. We may take different paths to that goal, and work by means of which the other does not approve, but you see, Doctor, we are all human. All human. It is Fate that has each of us born where we were born, and raised in the cultures in which we were raised. We could have been born in other lands, in other societies, and grown up with different points of view…but we are all wired with some degree of honesty, loyalty, and compassion."
"But we are different. I would never countenance the killing of people as you have!"
"Is that true, Doctor? I have studied your past. You are not entirely a pacifist. You have military experience, for one thing."
"I am a doctor! As are you. I took an oath—"
"As did I. The Hippocratic Oath. I do not believe I am in violation of it. I am working...for the greater good." He looked at his watch. "But I have things I must attend to, much as I would like to stay and chat. I enjoy having the company of an educated man, such as you, Doctor. I will be by later."
He left, and Ducky looked out on the damp day, sipping the last of his orange juice.
Gibbs looked out at the same damp view. He was not one given to looking out windows, normally. Weather would do what it would do, so looking at it was not productive.
From the corner of his eye, he saw Jenny coming toward him. "Jethro, you need to be working," she scolded quietly as she came between the large squad room window and him.
"Team's at it," he said, equally quietly. "Just because I'm thinking doesn't mean I'm not working."
"I don't need to tell you that every hour—"
"Then don't."
She frowned, and he turned to her. "Jen, we're tracing leads. Calling every possible contact. Getting names from our contacts of friends of theirs who we can call. Fornell's doing the same at the FBI. This is one of the bigger, quiet, manhunts in the area in years."
Jenny bit her lip. "Keep me informed," she said, and turned back for her office.
In many ways, Ducky figured, his experience was like a little vacation. While he hadn't been able to choose the date or site, there was no denying that he was well cared for. There was "room service", a comfortable bed, and so many books at his disposal.
Books! Genuine ink on paper (sometimes gilded) between hard covers. The young people of today lacked the reverence for these worlds of adventure. Most of them, anyway. How else could one travel around the world, or through space, or time, without having to leave the arms of one's chair? No internet, no movie, no TV show could as thoroughly draw one in and let one's mind paint the pictures as a book did…not since we stopped listening to storytellers tell stories to us.
The day flew by, and he was surprised by Ari's appearance at the door. Six o'clock! The grim day had shrunk into a dark, damp twilight.
"I am making a habit of cooking for you, it seems," Ari said with a laugh. "I hope that a medium-well done steak is acceptable?"
"Yes, that's quite all right," said Ducky, his mouth watering at the thought. He'd been so busy reading that he hadn't even stopped for lunch. How kind of Ari to fix him dinner! Ari had put cold cuts in the refrigerator, after all.
"Good. I should have asked beforehand. One never knows."
"No, really; I am quite happy with that. Thank you."
The tray also had a small salad, some veggies, a clump of grapes, a slice of blueberry pie, and a bottle of wine. Ducky was pleased. "Will you have a glass with me?" he offered, not just out of innate courtesy.
But Ari hadn't even sat down. "I cannot. Too much work to do tonight, but I thank you for the invitation." Then he snapped his fingers. "I'm forgetting something. Hold on…" He walked swiftly out, though of course taking care to lock the door behind him.
A few minutes later he was back, carrying a brown paper bag. "I picked these up for you. Enjoy, and now, I'll bid you good night, Doctor." And again he left.
Ducky looked inside the bag, and then he smiled, almost to the point of tearing up. There was an electric tea kettle, a couple different containers of tea leaves, and additional milk, sugar packets, lemon and honey…no one could wish for more. Now, even more than before, this place was feeling comfortable.
Giving a tea kettle was a simple gesture, but it touched Ducky more than he could say.
The sun shone between puffy clouds the next morning and was reflected in the south-facing squad room windows. Tony hung up the receiver on this desk phone shortly after 8. "Boss, got something. Little town of Ten Trees, in far northwestern Maryland, beyond Cumberland. Resident complained to the local LEOs of a man who's come into the general store a couple times, a man who has a 'furrin' accent." He emphasized the word. "That local yokel doesn't trust people with 'furrin' accents. The 'furriner' matches the description of Ari."
"Xenophobia may pay off for once, boss," Tim remarked.
"Any sign of Ducky?" asked Gibbs.
"No. I asked, and the sheriff who called had seen the BOLO," said Tony.
Gibbs reached into his drawer for his gun, and then looked up in surprise on seeing his team swiftly ready with their gear. "Did I say that we were going anywhere?" he snapped. "Ari wants me there. Just me."
"He has Ducky, Gibbs. That concerns all of us," said Ziva. She'd been with the team only weeks, but the look on her face showed how much she already valued the old man.
"And you may need us to mop up when you're done with Ari, boss," Tony said with a tight smile.
"Oh, all right. Come on," Gibbs sighed. "We'll take two cars. And someone grab Palmer and bring him along. If that bastard has hurt Ducky, I don't want to wait an extra minute for medical help to get there."