Part 6: Drowning in His Sorrow

Disclaimer: I do not own any rights to the song Heffalumps and Woozels written by Richard M. Sherman and Robert B. Sherman; I was just inspired by the Disney film Winnie the Pooh and the Blustery Day.

Tim came in dripping wet from walking his dog in the storm that had yet to abate. He'd returned to his apartment exhausted from processing the multiple crime scenes, only to be greeted by Jethro who was eager to take a walk.

After drying off Jethro and getting him something to eat, Tim collapsed on the bed. The superglue on his ear was still bothering him and he fell into a fitful sleep. His dreams were filled with images of his friends as he'd last seen them—Tony with his eyes fixed and blank, Ziva burnt badly, Jenny mangled beyond recognition, and Abby lying cold and still on the floor of autopsy. They seemed to be trying to tell him something, but in his dream the volume wasn't high enough to hear their words. Suddenly, there was a shout, "Beware!"

Beware, Beware, Be a very wary bear.

Then Tim's dream was filled with music. He was transported to an animated version of autopsy where the tables and stands were waving scalpels and spinning around on their wheels. The doors to the autopsy drawers began to open and shut like valves on huge calliope whistles as the song continued.

A Heffalump or Woozle is very confusel.
The Heffalump or woosel is very sly
- sly - sly – sly.
They come in ones and twoosels,
But if they so choosels
Before your eyes you'll see them multiply
- ply - ply – ply.

As the song continued, each of the people lying in those drawers popped into the room and began to sing. They surrounded him and began to shift into different shapes like monstrous amoebas while they changed colors as quickly as his pretty cousin Isabella changed boyfriends.

They're green, they're blue, they're pink, they're white.
They're round, they're square, they're a terrible sight.
They tie themselves in horrible knots,
They come in stripes or polka-dots.

Beware, Beware, Be a very wary bear.

The bodies paired off and began a bizarre dance, spinning and dipping as they moved around the room. Le Grenouille, with blood and brain spattered all over his once pristine white suit, held the crumpled arm of Director Shepherd at an odd angle while he twirled her around, one of her legs dragging behind them. Tony dancing with Jeanne looked almost normal, but as they passed him, Tim could see the holes in her chest.

They're black, they're brown, they're up, they're down.
They're in, they're out, they're all about.
They're far, they're near, they're gone, they're here.
They're quick and slick and insincere.
Beware, Beware, Beware, Beware, Beware ...

Tim woke with a start. He checked the clock; it was 0400 hours. Normally he would have tried to go back to sleep, but that kind of rest was worse than no sleep at all. Instead, Tim decided to visit Gibbs. His door was always open and the former marine would be awake soon.

When Tim arrived at Gibbs' home he saw no light on the first floor, but the bulb in the basement stairwell was flickering. He followed it downstairs and whistled. It had been quite some time since he'd seen the boat Gibbs was working on and now it was complete. Impressed with the craftsmanship, he ran his hand over the wood. Tim stopped when he reached the name: Sorrow. He nodded sadly. After a day like the one they'd had, Gibbs wouldn't be able to pick just one person to commemorate.

There was a dripping sound that had been bothering him since he'd entered the basement. The heavy rains had caused flooding in several parts of the city, but Gibbs' home shouldn't have been affected. Tim began to look around for the source of the sound. He rounded the back of the boat, looked in, and fell backwards. Tim found the leak; water was dripping from the pipes in the ceiling above the boat. Enough had fallen to fill the boat with water and there was Gibbs floating face down in it. He must have fallen asleep in his boat and drowned as the water covered his face.

With shaking hands, Tim pulled out his phone and dialed. "Ducky?"

"Timothy? What are you doing up so early?" It sounded as if the call had woken the medical examiner.

"I'm at Gibbs' home. Ducky, he's gone."

"What, has he left for Mexico again? I can't imagine why he'd leave now. I would have expected him to stay and head the investigation into Tony's death. Certainly he wouldn't go before…"

"Ducky, he didn't leave; he's dead."

"Oh, my."

"Ducky, what's happening to us? We're dropping like flies." Tim bumped into a spider web as he was pacing and dislodged a number of dead insects. In revulsion, he shook his head to get them out of his hair, but his motions were too vigorous and he fell to the ground.

When he put the phone back up to his ear, Ducky was saying, "…and I'll wake up Jimmy. We'll be over there in a jiffy. Until then, just lay low, my boy."

"No problem." Tim said flatly from where he'd landed.