Thanatopsis

Chapter Five

McGee didn't know where he was going; he just drove, not caring whether he would be missed at work. He couldn't stand that place. He just felt so cooped up. No. Crowded. Scrutinized. He could feel people watching him. Not just the team, but everyone. Many had come up to him and congratulated him on not being dead. Not in so many words, of course. He felt he would have been able to handle it better if he didn't have to stay there all the time. Unfortunately, he wasn't allowed in the field for another week, that is if Ducky gave him the seal of approval.

His phone rang. Tony. He pressed the reject button. He didn't feel like explaining where he'd gone. The last thing he needed right now was a bunch of demanding questions. He drove on.

He was making his way through the outskirts of the city, still within range of the skylights, but far enough away so that he wasn't bothered by traffic. The sun was high in the sky and he opened the sunroof in an attempt to clear his mind. The phone rang again. God, couldn't they just leave him alone.

He was still looking down at the phone when he heard the unmistakable sound of metal crunching against metal. He looked up and had to stop short, coming to a halt only ten feet from the scene in front of him.

He stared in astonishment for a moment. It was an awful sight. Two cars, a Mustang and what looked like a Malibu had collided in an intersection. It looked like the Mustang that he had been following crashed into the Malibu as it ran the stop sign perpendicular to the road McGee was on. The Malibu had spun almost 360 degrees and come to a standstill in the middle of the road.

He shook off the shock and jumped out of his car, grabbing his phone from where it had fallen to the floorboard, and running to the crash site. He yelled into the phone to the 911 operator, "There's been an accident on the corner of Y Street and Denver. Two cars involved, unknown injuries. Send two busses."

He reached the Mustang. There was only one man inside, mid-thirties, by the looks of him. He had a trickle of blood running down from his hairline and a dazed expression on his face. "Sir, are you okay?" McGee asked, reaching in and touching his arm.

The man looked up at him, confusedly.

"Sir, I'm a Federal Agent. Are you injured?"

"No. I'm- I'm fine. Go- check the other car."

"Helps on the way." McGee ran off. The street seemed to be nearly deserted. Only a few people had come to gawk. He pointed back to the Mustang and yelled, "Someone go keep an eye on him."

He finally made it to the Malibu. The front end of the passenger's side was completely caved in. All the glass appeared to have shattered in the windows. The hood had crumpled and was standing open, obstructing his view of the driver. He ran around to the other side, to find a horrific image. A young girl, who couldn't have been more than twenty-one, sat in the driver's seat. She was gasping for air and pulling at her seatbelt. Some shards of glass were poking out of her right side, and, from what he could see, a rather large one right about where her lung would be. She looked up at him, desperately. "Help me." It came out as barely a whisper.

McGee went for the door handle. It took about ten seconds and a lot of pulling, but he finally got it open. He gently unhooked her seatbelt as she weakly grabbed at his arm. He didn't know if he should pull her out or not, but her eyes were pleading with him to help her. "I don't- I don't think I should move you."

"Please," she mouthed.

McGee took a deep breath and nodded. He put his arm around her small back and began to pull her out, grabbing her knees along the way. He carried her easily away from the car and knelt down so he could hold her in his arms. He was familiar enough with impalements to know not to remove the object.

There was nothing he could do to help her.

Her breathing was coming in short gasps, and she continued to stare into his eyes, almost in wonder. She was trying to say something. He leaned in so he could hear better. "Tell… my mom…. I'm sorry. And- and that I love her." Tears sprung to his eyes, and he looked down to see hers fill up as well.

He nodded again. "I promise."

They continued to stare at each other, until she finally just stopped breathing. He gasped, breathing for the first time in what seemed like hours. Right at that moment, he heard sirens coming from a long way away. He tried to bite back a sob, but he couldn't hold it in.

"Am I dead?" said a small, scared voice to McGee's right. He looked up and gawked at the sight. The girl- the one he was still holding onto- was standing beside him. He stared in amazement. She was wearing the same bloodstained clothes, but the glass was gone. Her face was covered in blood from the wound on her scalp and her hair was messed up, just like it was on the body. She looked at the scene around her and then back down to herself. She didn't even kind of register that he couldn't speak. She looked into his eyes. "Can you see me?"

He forced his mouth closed and nodded.

"Am I dead?" she asked again.

McGee opened his lips, "I think so."

The girl took a shaky breath. She gave him a partly hysterical look. "What are you, psychic?"

The shock of her question sent him reeling. Could that be true? "I don't know."

She was obviously fighting off tears. She looked up to the sky. "It's not fair," she said quietly, to the air.

McGee didn't know what to say. "What's your name?" he finally managed.

She looked back at him. "Dianne."

"Dianne." He took a calming breath. "That's pretty."

Her eyes began to pour out tears, and she fell to her knees. She looked at her body with pain all over her face. "Why me?" she asked. She wasn't talking to him.

"Dianne?" he had to say something. "It's going to be alright. You're- you're going home."

She seemed to calm a little. She looked back up at him. "It's funny," she began, "everybody I've ever known used to be able to picture themselves growing up, having a family, going to college." Her brow creased as her eyes welled up again. "But I never could." She hiccupped." I guess I know why now." She suddenly gasped, looking back up to the sky. He looked up too. There was nothing there.

"What are you looking at?"

She looked at him again and smiled. She stood up. All the blood and gore disappeared, her hair was blowing in nonexistent wind. "Home."

A light began to form within her. "Wait."

She gave him a knowing look. "Everything's going to be alright. You'll see."

The light abruptly grew too bright for him to see and he turned away, hiding his eyes. When it disappeared he looked back.

She was gone. He stared at where she had been standing a moment before, unable to think. All of a sudden, the scene around him was being swarmed by EMTs and first responders. One of them came over to him and checked the Dianne's pulse.

"She's gone, sir," he said gently. "Are you hurt?"

McGee stared the man in the eyes, incapable of responding.

"Sir," he said a little more forcefully. "Were you in the crash?"

McGee shook his head no.

The man reached out for Dianne's body and took her from his arms, carrying her away to a stretcher. Then he returned for McGee. "Sir, are you sure you're okay? Is there anybody you need me to call?" he said as he lifted McGee to his feet and walked him over to the ambulance.

"No," he said quietly as the medic sat him down on the back and began checking him over.

He found the gun and badge and looked McGee in the face. "Are you a cop?'

"Federal Agent."

"Did you call us?"

"Yes." He was still staring over at where he had last seen the girl.

The EMT got into his line of sight. "You're in shock," he explained. "I can't let you leave by yourself. Somebody needs to come and get you."

McGee took a steadying breath. "I'll call someone."

The man nodded. "Don't leave until you tell me."

"Okay."

The other ambulance was driving away as the medic went to talk to his partner.

McGee drew his phone out from his pocket and hit the speed dial for number two.

Tony had been driving around for almost an hour looking for McGee. His apartment was empty. Tony was surprised to find how dirty it was; it was normally so clean and organized. The typewriter was out of place and there were papers everywhere. There was old food on the counter, giving off an awful smell. Books and dirty clothes littered the floor of the bedroom. Apparently McGee had been worse off than he thought.

After the apartment, Tony went to McGee's coffee shop, but no one had seen him since the morning before. He was sitting in his car, trying to figure out where to go next when his phone rang, making Tony flinch. The caller id said McGee.

He answered quickly, "McGee. Where the hell have you been? You can't just disappear like that."

"Tony?" he sounded uncertain.

"Tim, what's wrong? Are you drunk?" It was the middle of the day.

"I- can you come get me?" he said quietly.

That was worrying. "Of course I will. Where are you at?"

"Ummm," he said shakily. "It's Y Street and Denver."

There weren't any bars around there. Especially not one that would be open at eleven am. Tony started his car and put the phone on speaker. "I'm coming, McGee? Are you sure you're not drunk?"

"I'm…. I'm sure, Tony. Just hurry up." He hung up the phone.

"Dammit." Tony pressed harder on the accelerator.

He saw the lights from five blocks away. Oh, no.

He skidded to a halt, threw the car in park, and jumped out, heading to the cop setting up the barricades. "I'm here for Special Agent McGee," he said, holding up his badge.

"Was he involved in the accident," the officer asked placatingly.

Tony's heart sprang up his throat. "What- I- he just told me to come get him."

"He called you?"

"Yeah," Tony was trying not to freak out.

"It's okay. Your friend is just a witness." The officer pointed towards the ambulance. The back was facing away from them. "The medic said he's in shock. That little girl died in his arms. Said he was still holding on to her body when they arrived.

"Aw, shit." He went around the barricades. "Thanks, man," he called over his shoulder.

He made his way around the ambulance. "McGee?" he definitely looked worse for wear. There was blood all over the front of his shirt and down his arms. He was staring blankly into space. "McGee, hey."

"Excuse me," a voice said from behind Tony. He turned around. A paramedic was standing there.

"Are you Tony?"

"Yes. Special Agent Tony DiNozzo."

The man smiled. "Good. I guess you're his partner. All I could get from him was the first name."

"Is he okay?" Tony said quietly, taking a step away from McGee.

"He's fine. He wasn't involved in the crash."

Tony nodded. "The girl?"

The medic's face went grim. "According to the other witnesses, she was still alive when he got to her. He pulled her out and held her until we got here. She didn't make it."

Tony sighed and closed his eyes tight. What was it with McGee and the fucking traumatic events lately?

The medic took a step closer to Tony. "They also said... he was talking to himself. Well— not himself, someone who wasn't there."

Tony was confused. "What do you mean?"

He looked uncomfortable. "There was nobody there. He was talking to somebody that no one else could see."

AN: I'm really proud of this chapter. And believe me, it was very hard to write. Hope you liked it. Working on chapter seven right now. Review if you can and critique if you must. Thanks for reading!