Chapter 3
Ducky's words increased and decreased in volume in Tim's mind. Sometimes, they seemed almost painfully loud and then other times, the pain would swell and block out the words...but at the same time, Tim appreciated Ducky's presence. All through the ebbs and flows, he could feel Ducky holding his hand. It was strange how much comfort that gave him, as well as the sound of Ducky's voice. It didn't matter what he said.
"...which is why you should be glad you don't follow the Viking view of the world. It's fairly depressing," Ducky finished...and then didn't continue speaking.
Tim smiled weakly. He squinted as Ducky looked away toward the other end of the train.
"What is it, Ducky?"
"They appear to be negotiating...on your phone."
"You think they called...Gibbs?"
"I don't know."
"I hope so...he'll get...us out..." Tim didn't bother wasting what precious breath he still possessed to point out that it was seeming less and less likely that he himself would be getting off this train at all.
Then, Tim heard a commotion beyond the throbbing pain.
"What's...going on...Ducky?" he asked.
"It looks as though they're letting the other passengers off the train. ...oh dear..."
Tim wanted to ask what that was for, but he soon saw. He forced his eyes open and lifted his head and then watched as one of the four men stormed over.
"Old man. Go."
"Not without my friend," Ducky said without the slightest hesitation.
Tim squeezed Ducky's hand.
"No...Ducky..."
The man aimed the gun right at Ducky's head, the barreling touching Ducky's skin.
"Go," he ordered. "We're letting everyone off but him. Go."
"No," Ducky said calmly. "I have told you already. I will not leave without Timothy."
"Ducky," Tim whimpered. The pain became worse and he began to see black spots in his field of vision.
Ducky leaned over him in concern.
"Hold on, Timothy."
Tim smiled a little. "I...I can't...Ducky...can't do it...anymore..."
"Close your eyes, Timothy. Don't talk. Don't listen. Don't do anything but focus on breathing."
"Can't...breathe..."
"Yes, you can. Breathe!"
Tim closed his eyes, but the world faded away into blackness.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x
Ducky stared at Tim in alarm. He was pale and the bloodstain on his chest, although it wasn't large, was bad enough. It was clear that the time was swiftly approaching when it would be too late to save him. Decision made, he pulled his hand away from Tim's now-limp grasp and got to his feet. Many people did not realize that Ducky had the ability to tower...short as he was. All four of the men were taller than he, but he towered over them in his anger and his fear.
"He will die soon without medical attention. If you kill me, you have all lost your lives. Once no one is left alive on this train, you...all of you...your lives will mean nothing. They will come storming in here and you can all go down in a blaze of glory. Is that what you're after?
"We want to get out...and we will if they're worrying about him!"
"Idiots," Ducky said, losing his patience. "You have less chance of getting out of here scot free than...than the Scottish cricket team does of winning the Cricket World Cup this year! You have robbed a store as you shouted to the skies beforehand. You have stabbed a federal agent. You have taken people hostage. You will be caught. You will be serving prison time. That is the best case scenario you can hope for! What you have to decide is whether you can tolerate having a man's life on your conscience and whether or not you'd prefer to spend the rest of your natural lives in prison! I don't pretend to understand you, your motives...your lives. All I know is that I find you contemptible."
The men seemed almost surprised, as if they'd never had a tongue-lashing in their lives.
"I will not leave unless and until you allow my friend to go as well," Ducky said slowly and seriously. "How many lives will you have on your hands? How many?" He looked at the four men and focused in on the one who looked the most guilty. He pointed back at Tim. "Look at him! Look at what your stupidity has done! Is this what you want?"
The phone the leader was holding began to ring. He looked almost grateful as he turned away and answered it, speaking in a voice just low enough that Ducky couldn't understand the words. He glared at the other three men until they backed away. Then, he returned to Tim, knelt down beside him and took hold of his hand again.
"Timothy," he said softly.
Only the slight rise and fall of his chest served as evidence of Tim's continued life. Ducky took Tim's pulse. It was weak and rushing. Time was running out.
"I'm going to keep talking, Timothy. I refuse to believe that you are lost. You cannot lose hope of survival. Almost all of us have heard the tale of Pandora's box...in some form or another, but there is more to the tale than is often known by the average Westerner. Prometheus was the brother-in-law of Pandora. Pandora was created by the gods because Prometheus refused to allow mankind to be placed below the gods. During his time, the time of the Titans, men were treated as equals. After Zeus took over Mt. Olympus, the Titans were defeated. Prometheus did not fight against Zeus, but he resented the conquering of his people. He placed himself on the side of mankind and served as their protector."
Ducky paused in his tale and looked back. The men were now arguing, quietly, but it was clear that they were not of one accord.
Suddenly, Ducky felt a slight pressure on his hand. He looked back quickly. Tim's eyes were still closed. His breathing was getting worse...but it was clear that he was still in there...somewhere. Ducky smiled.
"Well, as I was saying, Zeus was angry and as punishment refused to allow mankind the ability to make fire. He wanted to keep them downtrodden and beholden to the gods. Prometheus, in his stubbornness, refused to accept this punishment. He stole a flame from the forge of Hephaestus and took it down from Olympus, hidden in a fennel stalk. Zeus, of course, was angry at this flouting of his authority, and he set out to punish both mankind and Prometheus. First, he had Hephaestus forge Pandora. She was given as a wife to Epimetheus, the brother of Prometheus...and she was also given a box, the contents of which she did not know, but longed to know. As you know, eventually, she opened the box and the evils of the world spilled...save for hope. That is not the end of the tale. Can you hear me, Timothy?"
Ducky waited. There was another squeeze. He returned it.
"Good. Many have forgotten about poor Prometheus, the champion of mankind. Zeus could not kill him. Prometheus was a Titan and immortal. Thus, as punishment for trying to help others, Prometheus was chained to a rock and every day an eagle came and pecked at his liver which would then regrow overnight...so that he could suffer the pain anew the next day. Day in and day out for all eternity. A tragic tale...and yet, still, this is not the end. Prometheus did not have to suffer for eternity. Heracles, better known as Hercules, came and set him free. It took thousands of years of agony, but eventually, it ended. That can happen for you, as well, Timothy...but you must hold on."
"He's right!"
Ducky looked back.
"I don't want to be a murderer!"
"Don't listen to that guy! He's just..."
"He's worried about that guy you stabbed, Mike! What did you do it for?"
"Hey! Don't start that again!"
"Dan's right. That old guy's right. They're not gonna let us just walk out of here. Why would they? We're stuck on a subway train! If you hadn't stabbed that guy we would have got off with no trouble! This is all your fault, Mike! You stupid..."
"This isn't getting us anywhere!"
"And your 'negotiating' isn't either, idiot!"
"What do you want me to do? Huh? You want to go to prison?"
"I don't want to be a murderer!"
The man with the phone pulled out Tim's gun.
"I'm not going to prison! Got that?"
Ducky watched with growing worry.
"You'd kill me, Mike?"
"I'm not going to prison."
"I'm not going to be a murderer. We've got to let them go."
"I'm with Dan."
"Yeah, you would be."
Suddenly, Tim stiffened and began to shake.
"Timothy!" Ducky said.
Tim stopped breathing.
"No."
He began performing CPR. He only paid a bit of attention to the argument.
"I'm not going to be a murderer, Mike!"
There was a shot, and Ducky looked back over his shoulder. One of the four men was on the floor...no longer holding the gun or the phone. The three remaining men looked at each other and then one ran out of the train.
"We give up! Come in!"
Ducky turned back to Tim, continuing CPR until he felt someone beside him.
"Excuse me, sir. We'll take it from here."
Reluctantly, Ducky backed away and let the EMTs move in. He stood up and stared down at them as they moved Tim to the gurney, still working on getting him breathing again.
A hand dropped onto his shoulder and Ducky looked back briefly.
"Jethro."
"Hey, Duck."
The EMTs rushed Tim out and Ducky sank onto the seat he'd shared with Tim only a few hours before.
Ducky shook his head. "I don't know if he'll make it."
"What happened?" Gibbs asked.
"Which part?"
"How did this start?"
"They got on, started getting wild. Timothy tried to get off and got in their way...and that was the result."
"What about him?" Gibbs asked, pointing to the body on the floor.
"He started threatening his cohorts with Timothy's gun. I assume they disliked the idea. I wasn't watching. Timothy had stopped breathing."
Gibbs sat down beside him and put an arm around his shoulders.
"I felt so helpless, Jethro."
Gibbs said nothing.
"Is NCIS in charge?"
"Don't know. Involves NCIS personnel, but not really involving the Navy. Metro wants them."
"They can have them for all I care. I only want Timothy to make it."
"You want to go to the hospital?"
"Yes."
"All right. Let's go."
Ducky paused and looked at the place where Timothy had lain. There was no sign of him. Not even any blood.
"Yes. I want nothing more."