Worst Nightmare

Chapter 7

Ducky leaned back in his chair, carefully removed his glasses and ran a rough hand over his face in a half-hearted attempt to wipe away some of the exhaustion he felt. It was just past midnight and he had sent Penny back to his townhouse to rest almost two hours ago. They had all been taking shifts staying with Timothy so that he would have a familiar presence when he did regain consciousness but thus far he had not opened his eyes.

Three days after his traumatic awakening, Tim's doctor had declared that the swelling around his optic nerves had decreased as hoped. After consulting with the rest of the medical team he had decided to reduce the sedatives so that Tim could start to wake up. Now, two days after that decision, Tim had shown some signs of increased awareness and they were all hoping that he would finally making his way back to the waking world.

Ducky shifted his position so he could study the man reclined on the hospital bed and was startled to see his eyes slowly start to open. He blinked and squinted, confusion creasing his brow. His fingers twitched and the confusion was almost immediately replaced by panic.

"Timothy." His gaze immediately moved towards Ducky's voice and as the older man rose from his chair to lean over him Tim followed the movement with his eyes until his gaze was locked on Ducky's face, the fear in the younger man's expression fading slightly.

"You can hear me, can't you?" His chin dipped slightly and he winced before his eyes widened and the panic returned. "It's alright, Timothy, you're safe." He gently rested his hand against Tim's face. "You're in the hospital because you've been badly injured, but you're going to be just fine, I promise." He saw a flash of relief before the fear returned. "Let me get your doctor, alright? Blink twice for yes if you understand me." Tim blinked twice, but the fearful, worried expression remained.

Ducky pressed the call button and soon a nurse appeared in the doorway. "Dr. Mallard, what's wrong?"

"Please summon Dr. Alden to let him know that Timothy is awake."

The nurse smiled. "Of course, Doctor."

After she left Ducky returned his attention to the injured agent. Tim was looking around the room, pausing to blink and squint his eyes several times.

"Timothy." He immediately looked at Ducky who decided to try a quick test. "I need you to answer some questions for me. Again, blink twice for yes, once for no. Do you understand?" Tim blinked twice. "Good. Do you remember me?" A brief flash of confusion crossed his face before Tim blinked twice. "Do you remember what happened to you?" One blink, and the fear resurfaced. "That alright lad, we didn't expect you to remember. One more question." He held up his hand with the first two fingers raised. "How many fingers?" He blinked twice and Ducky felt a surge of relief. "Wonderful. You're doing very well."

Tim's fingers twitched again and he managed to shift his right arm slightly. He looked down at both of his arms then back and back at Ducky, raising his eyebrows in an unspoken question. Before Ducky could answer him Dr. Alden appeared in the doorway. He quickly surveyed the scene in front of him before stepping into the room.

"Agent McGee, I'm Dr. Alden. They informed me that you'd woken up." Tim blinked twice and Dr. Alden smiled. "I take it that means 'yes'?" Tim blinked twice again. "Excellent. I need to perform a few tests, is that alright?" Two blinks. "Very good." He took a penlight out of his pocket and moved it back and forth in front of Tim's eyes, carefully watching the reaction. "Good. Now, follow my finger with just your eyes." He moved his index finger back and forth, then up and down in front of Tim's eyes and he followed the movement with almost no hesitation. "Very good. Tracking and pupillary contraction are normal." He removed a pen from his pocket and showed it to Tim. "I'm going to touch you in several places with the tip of this pen. When you feel the pressure, blink twice, OK?" Two more blinks. "Good."

After testing the feeling in Tim's feet and legs, all with positive reactions to each point of pressure, he moved up and tested the tips of each of Tim's fingers, blocking the pen from his sight. Tim's reaction was delayed a bit for two of the fingers on his left hand but Dr. Alden didn't seem to be too concerned, stating that it was to be expected given the injury Tim had sustained. Finally he finished his test and slipped the pen back in his pocket.

"Sense of touch is normal. Hearing appears to be normal as well. Agent McGee, do you mind if I call you Tim?" Tim blinked once. "OK, Tim, you are doing quite well given your injuries. Has Dr. Mallard explained them to you?" One blink. Ducky shot the doctor a warning look and he gave a brief nod of understanding. "Your jaw is fractured, as well as your left cheekbone, and your nose. You had significant damage to your face when you were brought in and due to that and the broken jaw we opted to use a tracheostomy to place you on a ventilator. You have four broken ribs, two of which separated and punctured your lung, which collapsed, and we needed to do surgery to correct that. Your ribs are healing well based on your last set of x-rays and your lung is healing nicely, so now that you are awake I will contact Dr. Khanna and he will be able to remove the tracheotomy tube."

Tim's eyes widened and he looked at Ducky with a worried expression. Ducky gently patted his face.

"It's alright, lad. It's a simple procedure. Once it heals, and your jaw is stable enough to be unwired you'll be able to speak again." Tim blinked twice and returned his attention to Dr. Alden.

"Your right radius was fractured, but it was a clean break that was easy to set and it, too is healing well. We should be able to switch over to a soft cast for it in three or four weeks. Your left arm, however, received a greater number of injuries, including a fracture of the proximal end of the ulna...in the elbow. There is also a hairline fracture in the distal end of the humerus and two fractures of the radius, as well as several fractured metacarpals in your left hand. You'll need to be in a hard cast for at least six to eight weeks."

Tim winced and blinked twice, signaling his understanding before his gaze drifted to his slightly elevated right leg. Dr. Alden noticed and continued.

"Last but not least, your right patella was dislocated and fractured, you sustained a hairline fracture to your proximal tibia as well as two fractures to your fibular. Three of the tarsals and four metatarsals in your right foot sustained pressure fractures. I'm afraid you're going to be immobile for a few more weeks, but we will get you up and moving as soon as we can."

After a few moments, Tim slowly blinked again twice and closed his eyes.

"Tim?"

He opened his eyes again and both men could see they were wet with tears.

"Timothy, it will be alright. Just give it time."

He gave Ducky a weak smile and closed his eyes for a moment before opening them again and looking at his doctor. Dr. Alden nodded in understanding.

"Just one more question, Tim. How are your pain levels? One a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst."

Tim seemed to think about it for a few seconds before he started to blink. He blinked six times and then after a pause blinked once more before closing his eyes.

"Alright. We'll get you something to help with the pain. Try to get some rest, alright?" There was no response and the doctor lowered his voice. "Sleep is really the best thing for him right now, but he's doing quite well, considering…"

Ducky nodded in understanding. "Thank you, Dr. Alden." The man smiled and left before Ducky returned his attention to the agent, just in time to see a tear slip from beneath his closed lids and slide down his cheek. "Oh, Timothy. It will be alright. I promise." Another tear fell and he gently wiped it away. "It the pain worse than what you told Dr. Alden?" His head turned slightly to the side and back again. "I am sorry. You most certainly did not deserve what happened to you."

Tim opened his eyes and stared at Ducky. Pain, frustration, anger and worry boiled beneath the surface of those expressive eyes and Ducky could only squeeze his fingers in sympathy. Finally a nurse arrived to give him a dose of painkillers and after she left Tim's eyes slipped closed again, his body relaxing as he succumbed to the pull of Morpheus. Ducky watched him in silence as the minutes slowly ticked by. Finally he rose from his chair and left the room to go deliver the long awaited news to his team. Timothy was awake, aware, and healing.

It was a start.

XXX

Tony angrily a slammed his desk drawer and plopped his elbows on his desk before pillowing his head in his hands. Three weeks. Three weeks of searching for this bastard, and they were no closer to finding him then they were when they started. They'd searched through hundreds of hours of video footage but had never caught more than a glimpse of the man who had terrorized at least fifteen women, with more being discovered every few days. He'd been pursuing his sick little hobby for at least five years, two more than originally thought, and showed no sign of stopping anytime soon.

Tony raised his head to look at the desk across from his own and growled in frustration. Bishop had left a few hours ago to 'run an errand' and she hadn't yet returned. She'd been working as hard as the rest of them, Tony had to admit, but even with the extra hours she'd been pulling she hadn't been able to pin a name on their suspect. Now, if McGee was here…

Tony glanced at the desk to his right and sighed. McGee wasn't here, and it didn't look like he would be here for the foreseeable future. He was getting better, Ducky had assured him, but the injuries he had would take months to heal. It would take even longer for him to be fit for duty, even desk duty. Tony hoped that they'd be able to catch the perp before McGee was cleared to return to work, but with the way things were going…

With another sigh Tony rested his forehead on his desk. What he really needed was to be able to talk to his partner, and to have the younger keep up his side of the discussion. He hadn't had a real conversation with Tim since before his attack, and nearly a month had passed since then. He had gone to visit Tim every day while he was in the hospital, first while he was still in a coma and then after he had regained consciousness (and his sight) but every time Tim had been asleep, or at least pretending to be.

Ducky had told them that Tim would need a lot of rest while he was recovering, but even after he had been moved to a rehabilitation facility last week he still seemed to always be sleeping. Then again, with their crazy schedule Tony was only able to stop by either really early or really late, so he supposed it was to be expected. Abby had reported a few brief, mostly one-sided conversations with him, as had Ducky and Jimmy, but the rest of the team was feeling a bit out of the loop.

Or maybe it was just him.

The sound of footsteps drew his attention and he looked up to see a girl with long brown hair walk past his desk. She was dressed for a night out on the town and he wondered for a moment how she had wound up in the bullpen, and why she didn't have an escort.

"May I help you?"

She froze for a few second before turning around to stare at him and it took him a moment to realize who it was.

"Bishop? What in the hell did you do to your hair?" She dropped her gaze and suddenly everything became clear. "Oh, no. Oh, hell no!"

"Tony-"

"You are not putting yourself out there as bait, Bishop. It's not gonna happen!"

"Why, because I'll screw up? Again?"

He leaped from his chair in anger and she took a quick step back. "You do not have anything to prove-"

"But I'm the only one of us who fits his type. Or at least I do now."

"Yeah, and how are we supposed to know which club he's going to hit? We've never figured out a pattern-"

"-but I did."

He stared at her in disbelief. "And you didn't bother to tell anyone?"

"I told Gibbs."

"What?"

"Rule number four, DiNozzo," Gibbs replied as he walked past Bishop to his desk. He turned to study her a moment and his mouth tilted up in a half-smile. "You'll do."

"Rule 4? What about Rule 15? Always work as a team!"

"Rule 18."

"Stop it. We had a plan, we were working on it, and-"

"Rule #20: always have a backup plan."

"This is your backup plan?"

"You have a better idea?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe one that doesn't put a teammate in danger! Another teammate."

"Enough. Bishop, read him in."

"Right." She walked over and clicked the remote. An image of a map with a dozen red dots scattered over it filled the screen. "We know what clubs he's hit." She clicked the remote and another map appeared with a scattering of blue dots. "We know what clubs haven't been hit that fit his criteria. I studied the dates, the locations the victims." She clicked again and lines started appearing and disappearing between the dots. "I created an algorithm to compile the data and calculate the probabilities of any single club being his next target. It gave me three possibilities." Three green dots appeared on the screen and she pointed to the one furthest from the Yard. "I'm going to this one. The FBI has one agent that will be posted here." She pointed to the dot closest to the Yard. "And Metro will have one here." She pointed to the last dot. "Communication will be set up between all three groups. We'll be wearing hidden cameras and microphones. First sign of trouble, and the teams will move in. Statistically the probability of success-"

"How will you know it's him? He's had a different look every time."

She clicked the remote again and a series of pictures appeared. Each was a representation of what the witnesses had reported, with the different hair styles, facial hair, and eye color added to the sketch Anna Hayes had helped create. "We know his past looks." She clicked the remote one last time as a second series of sketches appeared. "And I've predicted his possible future disguises." She highlighted three. "These are the most likely."

Tony stared at the portraits, a sense of unease threatening to overwhelm him. "And what if you're wrong?"

"I was right about Parsa. I was right about a whole bunch of other scenarios that you don't know about, and probably never will because they're classified. I am good at this, Tony. It's what I do."

He turned to Gibbs. "And you're going along with this?"

"Again, do you have a better idea?"

"I...no. I don't. I wish to hell I did, but…Damn it." He sighed. "What do you need me to do?"

"Have my six, Tony. That's all I ask. And the rest should take care of itself, right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, OK. I can do that. I hope you're right about this Bishop."

She gave him a weak smile. "Me, too."

TBC…

A/N: I made up Rule #20 ;)