Chapter 8: Case Closed? Not Quite!
When I woke up, I was laying on a gurney. There was an IV bag set up above me to my right. I turned to my left and saw Uncle Ducky sitting on a small metal bench. I felt the room shake a bit, then I head Uncle Ducky speak, "careful Anthony," he chided. "Tell that to the moron in front of me," he retorted, as the room shook again, "starting and stopping, starting and stopping, he shouldn't be able to get a license if he can't drive!" I let out a small laugh, but it came out more as a strangled cough. "Oh, thank God you're awake, Madison," said Uncle Ducky as he leaned across the small space between us to hold my hand. "Where are we going?" I asked, my voice sounded hoarse. Uncle Ducky opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by a voice from the front seat. "NCIS," said Gibbs, as we pulled into what felt like the evidence garage. "Yes, Madison," Uncle Ducky asked, "why is it that you didn't want to be admitted to a hospital?" I opened my mouth to answer him but closed it again when the back doors opened to reveal Tony and Gibbs. Together, they wheeled me out of the van and into an awaiting elevator, where Abby stood anxiously waiting our arrival. She handed me a water bottle and propped the gurney into a more upright position, "here, drink up, it will help replace the fluid you've lost." I told the water bottle from her and was about to open it when I was enveloped in a hug. "Do you know how worried we were about you?" I let out a small hiss of pain and Abby let go immediately, "sorry!" she yelped, as she took a step back.
Once we were all in the elevator and I had drunk my water, I motioned for Gibbs to hit the power switch. "Uncle Ducky," I started, sitting up straighter, "I haven't been completely honest with you these past couple days." "Now, that's quite alright, dearie—" "No, let me finish," I cut him off, "there's something I have to—want to tell you. Director Sheppard called me last night after dinner, she offered me a job here as a forensics field agent, you know, kind of like Abby's personal assistant that goes to the crime scene to see the evidence first hand. Well, I accepted the job, and I figure that if we are all going to be working together then I have something that I have to explain to all of you. The reason that I refused to go to the hospital was because I'm not exactly what you'd call human," I paused to let the information sink in a little bit. "So what are you then, some big scary monster?" Tony joked, which earned him a head slap from Gibbs and a punch in the shoulder from Abby, who were on either side of him. "Actually, Tony, you're not too far off base. A couple years back, I was infected," I said, pulling up the bottom of my shirt far enough to reveal my scars. An audible gasp sounded from the elevator from everyone except Gibbs and myself. "What is that?" Uncle Ducky asked worriedly, "I've never seen scars like that before in my life." "This," I started, "is a three year old scar, given to me by an infectious fox furring a camping trip. The infection transformed into a mutation and gave me special abilities. I have venomous, elongated canines," I said, as I pointed to my teeth, "diamond hard claws," I showed them my nails, "extremely acute senses, and insane strength and speed. However, this mutation also comes with its fair share of negative attributes. For example, I can't partake in anything that involves drawing blood, I can't go to hospitals, and I can't stay in a confined space for too long without going into a claustrophobia-induced shock, speaking of which, Gibbs, can you start up the elevator again?" He nodded and flipped the switch. "Do your parents know?" Abby asked, as I pulled the hem of my shirt back into its proper place. "No!" I blurted out, "and I hope they never have to."
The elevator doors opened then and I was wheeled away to the autopsy unit. "Oh, speaking of your parents," said Uncle Ducky, "I invited them to dinner this up coming Saturday." I looked at him for a moment before asking the dreaded question, "why?" "Because, Jethro had me have your parents on standby while we investigated your kidnapping. I didn't want to worry them so I stalled by inviting them over for dinner. Your dad loved the idea," Uncle Ducky clarified, as he helped me out of the stretcher and onto an autopsy table.
I sat on the table and watched as Uncle Ducky as he walked around the room and grabbed the sterilized equipment. He put a small basin underneath my arm, "this is going to sting a bit," he cautioned. He poured the peroxide on my wounded arm. At first, it didn't hurt, then the pain cut into me and I hissed out in agony.
Thirty minutes and twenty-eight stitches later, Uncle Ducky diagnosed me stable enough to walk around the building by myself, seeing as he had "another body to attend to," as he put it. I thanked him and walked down the hall to Abby's lab. I peered in through the open doorway and saw Tim's and Abby's eyes glued to a picture of a face on a monitor. It looked like a younger morphed version of Gibbs; they were calling it a "Gibblet." Silent as I could, I snuck up behind them. "What's a Gibblet?" I asked, successfully scaring the both of them into next week. "Geeze, Madi, you're even quieter than Gibbs," said McGee as he picked himself up off of the floor. I laughed and looked back to Abby. "But seriously, though," I said, "what is a Gibblet?" "This, Madi, is a Gibblet," she said, as she gestured to the big screen. "A simulated spawn of Leroy Jethro Gibbs," she clarified. I howled with laughter for a moment before I realized that my more animalistic features were starting to dominate my human ones. "Hey, Abby?" I giggled, as I tried to suppress my overly giddy laughter, "do you have a lunar calendar handy by chance?"
She rolled back in her chair, propelling herself towards a file cabinet. "As a matter of fact," she opened a drawer and pulled out a black filing folder, "I do." She tossed me the folder and rolled back to Tim to resume their face making. Opening the folder, I found today's date almost immediately. "Damn it," I cursed under my breath as I returned the folder to Abby. "What's wrong?" Tim asked, actually sounding a little worried. "Ah, it's nothing," I said, feigning my previous state of cheerfulness. "Liar," Abby said, as she turned around to face me, her eyes narrowed in accusation. "Fine, you caught me," I said, throwing my hands up in defense. "For every full moon that occurs on the third Sunday of the month, I undergo a transformation. I know, it sound a little far fetched, but it's true, and tonight's a full moon on the third Sunday of the month." "So what, are you going to turn into a big bad 'where-wolf' or something?" ask Tony who had just recently walked in, with Ziva, on our conversation. I glared at him for mocking my condition, before continuing. "No, Anthony," I hissed, "my condition is a little more complex than that. You see, each month of the year has a specific animal associated with it. January is the artic fox, February is the Dalmatian, March is the lion, April is the timber wolf, May is the howler monkey, June is the cheetah, July is the panther, August is the red fox, September is the jaguar, October is the Siberian tiger, November is the tabby cat, and December is the snow leopard. Depending on the month in which the two other requirements are met, I am transformed into that animal at sunset and remain in the form till dawn." "You're joking, right?" asked Ziva, clearly doubting the truthfulness of my previous rant. "You can see for yourself if you want," I challenged, "I still need to find an isolated location within" – I looked at Abby's wall clock – "the next two hours." "But sunset isn't for another three hours," McGee cut in. "I no," I said in a 'do-I-really-look-that-stupid' look on my face, "I'm allowing for travel time."
"So…" Abby said in an attempt to rid the room of the soon-to-be-awkward silence. "I take it we're going camping tonight?" "Look like we are," Gibbs said as he and Uncle Ducky entered the room with tent bags slung over their shoulders. Everyone – except for Gibbs – looked at me for an answer. "Fine," I breathed out, "so… Anyone know of any good camping sites nearby?" "I have a place in mind," Abby said as she smirked mischievously, "we could go to Dead Man's Creek." "Sounds good enough to me," I said. "Okay, team, grab your gear and meet in the lot at 17:00," Gibbs ordered as he walked out of the lab. "Ready to go, Madison?" Uncle Ducky called over his shoulder as he followed Gibbs into the elevator. "I'll meet you up there in a minute!" I called back, before I turned to face Abby, Tim, Tony, and Ziva. "There's only one rule you guys have to follow on this little excursion," I said, as my airy tone took on a more serious note, "during the first fifteen minutes of my transformation, stay as far away from me as possible, during that time, I'm at my most feral stage and I will – without hesitation – kill you if you get too close." They all nodded in affirmation before we all piled into the elevator to prepare for a night that we would be sure to remember.