A/N - Having absolutely NO knowledge whatsoever about lawyers and how they work (Hey, I'm a Goody-Two-Shoes, don't blame me!), I am taking a LOT of dramatic license in this chapter - and any chapters following that have anything to do with lawyer-ing in any way. I'm bending laws left and right I'm sure, but I plead the 5th - and total ignorance. Let's just say all my legal knowledge comes from watching 'Jack McCoy' never losing a case on 'Law and Order.' Same goes for all my medical knowledge, which I learned most of on reruns of 'ER.'

A/N 2 - Still giving and getting nuthin' from anyone or anything connected to NCIS, CBS, etc., etc.

A SOLITARY ACT

Chapter 5

The penitentiary warden found it a little odd that not only did an NCIS investigator show up to do interviews, but he showed up with not one but two lawyers. "I don't know what you're looking to find by questioning the women in our Solitary block, Agent Gibbs. It's called 'Solitary' for a reason. No fraternization with anyone else, 23 hour a day solitude."

"You are denying us access to potential witnesses, Warden Williams?" Ziva's eyebrows rose. Sela, her lawyer role, wrote something down on a legal pad she'd fished out of her overflowing briefcase.

The warden's face started to turn beet red. "No. No, no. I just found it a little…odd…is all." He looked around the small group seated in front of his desk. "Having the three of you here is odd."

Tim adjusted his fake glasses. "As head of the NCIS legal department, I like to be thorough, make sure there's no fault on the part of NCIS. It was our agency that put Ms….." he paused, pretending to check his notes. "…Swanson here. We need to be sure that there's no mishandling on our part."

"I can surely understand that," the warden agreed with a smile. "We've got our own lawyers going over everything with a fine-toothed comb, looking for any signs of impropriety."

Gibbs glared at the rotund man. "A woman under solitary confinement in your jail became pregnant while in your custody, warden. I think there may have been some 'impropriety' going on, don't you?"

Spluttering and hemming and hawing, the warden stood up. "Come on, then. We'll take you to one of the conference rooms." Scant moments later, as the agents settled in in the conference room, the warden sent for the first name on Gibbs' list - names provided by Janice as being friendly with Linnea.

"LaShonda, these people are from NCIS, they need to ask you questions about Linnea Swanson." The warden ushered the rough-looking black woman to a chair at the table and motioned for the guard to chain her to the chair.

Gibbs laid a folder on the table. "Ms. Reece, I'm Special Agent Gibbs. This is Timothy MacDonald, head of our legal department, and Sela Davis, an attorney for the state." He looked her in the eye. "Do you want to have your lawyer present?"

The hard, brown eyes took stock of the man in front of her, and she decided to trust what she saw. "Do I need one?" she asked confrontationally.

Before the warden could interrupt, Gibbs looked at the man with a glare of his own. "You can go now. We'll call ya' if we need ya'." He held the glare until the porcine man got the hint and left with a huff. "No, Ms. Reece, you don't need a lawyer, you're not in any trouble. In fact, we'd like your help."

"My help?" the woman cackled. "Why would one of the alphabets need the help of a con like me?"

Ziva and Tim looked at each other and then to Gibbs. He gave them a slight nod. "Ms. Reece, my name is not Sela Davis, and I am not an attorney for the state, although for the moment we would like Mr. Williams and the other prison staff to believe so. I am special agent Ziva David, also with NCIS, and this is my partner, special agent Timothy McGee."

LaShonda looked around between the three agents before her, wondering why they were trying to pull one over on the warden. With a wary look, she agreed. "Ok, I won't say nuthin'. Yet. Like I said, what does an alphabet want with me?"

Gibbs took over the conversation. "Janice Thompson gave us your name, said you were on good terms with Linnea Swanson. That true?"

"Maybe," LaShonda stated suspiciously, crossing her arms over her torso. "Who wants to know?"

Gibbs folded his hands on the file in front of him. "People who want to help her, who want to get her out of here." He met LaShonda's stare with his own.

"Kinda' funny," she said sarcastically, "since you the ones that put her here."

Seeing that Gibbs was beginning to get frustrated, Ziva picked up the discussion. "We are aware that we have made a serious mistake, in putting Ms. Swanson behind bars. Rest assured that we certainly never expected anything like this to occur."

LaShonda leaned as far over the table as she could, chained to her chair as she was. " 'Never expected anything like this to occur'? What did you think would happen to someone like her in here? Here's a hint, lady. This ain't Club Med. This is God damned prison. It ain't for everyone. It's 'get tough or get eaten.' Someone like Nay-Nay? She was just fresh meat in here." She sat back and pointed towards the NCIS trio. "And you all just threw her into the shark tank. Do you have any idea what happens to nice girls like her in here?"

Ziva looked down and swallowed around the lump in her throat, knowing that she knew better than most what could happen in prison, after her time in Somalia. She cleared her throat. "Actually, Ms. Reece," she said softly, "unfortunately I have a very good idea of what Ms. Swanson has gone through." Pushing thoughts of Somalia to the back of her mind, Ziva straightened and took a deep breath. "I was lucky enough to have people that worked very hard and risked their lives to rescue me." She looked the inmate in the eye. "Now, we would like to do the same for Ms. Swanson."

LaShonda scoffed. "Well, too little, too late, far as I'm concerned." She scrutinized the three agents. "But I guess it ain't about me, is it?" She made a point to look in each agent's eye, and judged the younger guy to be the soft sell - if anyone was going to cave, it would be him. She gave him her hardest glare. "You serious? 'bout getting Nay-Nay outta here?"

McGee surprised himself by not being intimidated by the glare. "It's a guarantee, Ms. Reece. No one wants her out of here more than we do." Trying to lighten the mood a little, he joked, "do you think we'd go to all the trouble to dress like this without a good reason?" He flicked his ugly tie, gestured to his less-than-stylish suit.

The hardened inmate studied McGee then Ziva, lips pursed. She pointed to Ziva. "Her? No. You?" She studied McGee again. "Hell yeah, every day."

Ziva put her head down so McGee wouldn't see her smirk, and Gibbs just out-and-out smiled.

"Ok. You say you want my help springing Nay-Nay. What I gotta' do?"

Gibbs smiled and opened the file in front of him, passing photos across the table for her to look at.

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After interviewing several current and former solitary inmates, Gibbs decided someone should go and actually see Linnea, talk to her if possible. McGee volunteered.

Outside the infirmary, the female guard paused. "You'll be disappointed if you're planning on talking to Swanson."

McGee shifted his large briefcase to his other hand. "Why's that?"

"She sleeps most of the day. She's on heavy pain meds, and a sedative." She smirked sarcastically. "But the doctor assures us 'it looks worse than it really is.'" She pulled out her keys and unlocked the door, ushering the "lawyer" into the medical suite. She introduced him to the chief nurse on duty, and who he was there to talk to. The nurse snorted and walked down the hall, waving for him to follow. She stopped at the curtain to one of the patient cubicles and swung it open. "Good luck," she said sarcastically, and turned and walked away.

McGee approached the bed cautiously, not wanting to startle Linnea. She was on her side, facing away from the door. He cleared his throat. "Uh, excuse me, Ms. Swanson?" He waited a moment and spoke again, a little elouder this time. When she didn't answer or show any sign that she'd heard him at all, he walked around the bed. What he saw sucked the air right out of his lungs.

He'd been an agent for many years now, had seen all manners of abuse, torture, death…. But he knew that he would never forget the sight of Linnea Swanson's mottled and swollen face, bruises upon bruises.

"And that's not the worst of it."

The quiet voice from the doorway startled him. It was a younger nurse, very kind-looking. "You were staring at the bruises on her face. Those aren't the worst of her injuries."

"Yes, I know, I've seen the ER photos." At her raised eyebrow, he backtracked a bit and held out his hand. "Timothy… MacDonald," he said, almost forgetting his persona. "Head of the legal department of NCIS. I just wanted to come down….. See it for myself." He gestured at the sleeping woman. "See if it was really as bad as the pictures made it out to be."

The nurse crossed her arms, her anger coming through. "And?" It sounded more like a command than a question.

McGee swallowed and took a last look at Linnea, lying there helpless. "Trust me, ma'am. The pictures didn't do it justice." He turned and swiftly walked out of the infirmary, leaning on the wall outside the locked door. He shook his head. Whatever happened, there was no way Tony should ever see Linnea the way she is right now. No telling what the already angry agent would do. Taking a deep breath, McGee made his way back to the conference room where Gibbs and Ziva were awaiting his report.

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The hands. They were always there, touching, pinching, holding her down. Rough, painful. And the laughing. He wanted her to struggle, wanted her to cry. She'd tried to hold it in, but after a while, she just couldn't anymore. She gave him the very thing that got him off. He treated her like a sexual slave - whenever, wherever he wanted, and he'd shown her what would happen if she didn't allow him to use her. Pregnant. A baby. He'd gotten her pregnant during one of his "sessions." It didn't matter to him at first, but once she'd started showing, he'd become angry, accusing her of trying to trap him. Like becoming pregnant was her fault, and hers alone. The "sessions" got rougher, raunchier. She knew her blockmates could hear everything, knew they knew what was happening to her almost every night now, and she was embarrassed. She should have stopped this before it got this far. Should have said something to someone.

And then…..pain. Just searing pain through her lower body. Screaming. Oh God, there's blood. So much blood. She's going to die. She never told anyone, kept it to herself, like he'd told her to. And now she was going to die. Nothing less than she deserved.

White lights. White walls. Beeping machines…hospital. Hurried voices, "stat!" "bp's dropping!" "got a clot here…." "not a clot…" "fetus" "miscarriage" …..she was still alive. The never-ending pain told her that. There isn't all this pain when you're dead, is there? ….."stable…" "you nuts? …needs…hospital…." "prepare….transport back….prison"

Prison. Maybe she's dead after all….sting of a needle… floating. That's all there was now. Floating.