Disclaimer : Still own nothing. Just having fun.
Author's Note : Thanks to everyone who's read, favorited and followed so far. Many, many thanks to those who left reviews. I really, really enjoy seeing what you think.
To Just a Fan - this story is set in mid-season 4, some time before Twisted Sister and when Tony meets Jeanne. I know Tim's characterization is inconsistent to what he's grown into, as of season six. But during the time frame of this story, he is the scared probie, just like Tony's the prankster-loving playboy, Gibbs is a functional mute and Ziva's the assassin who hasn't gotten in touch with her emotions yet. Hope that clarification makes you enjoy the story a bit better!
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11:47pm –St. Boniface Medical Center – Emergency Department, Baltimore, MD –
Clad in an ill-fitting hospital gown that must've been stretched out by its previous inhabitant, he leans against the stiff bed, listening to the constant activity of the busy Emergency Department. He stares morosely at the IV buried in the crook of his left arm. His pale skin is a patchwork of bruises and puncture marks from a medical student's multiple attempts to start his line.
Just under the loudspeaker's constant blares and the din of other patients, the TV over the door burbles away, a late night comedian's undecipherable monologue. When the canned laughter starts, Tim's eyes flick to the screen.
Shouldn't I be out there helping Tony and Gibbs?
A group of nurses suddenly convene on the desk just outside his room and he stretches to watch, wondering whether they gather for gossip or work. The collective giggle that erupts from the women answers his question. Tim rolls his eyes, collapsing back against the uncomfortable mattress. When his head connects with the rigid surface, he cringes at the pound that migrates into his teeth.
He searches for his pillow, locating it on the floor.
Reaching after it ignites a fire in his shoulder that makes him cry out. He's too busy blinking the spots from his vision to notice the heavy-set, grey-haired nurse, watching him. She places the wayward pillow behind his head and eases him gently against the forgiving surface.
"Thank you," he breathes, allowing her to wipe the sweat from his brow.
With the agony beginning to clear, Tim flicks his gaze to the off-white drop ceiling. Focusing on the pockmarks, he connects the dots to make outrageous shapes until the pain passes completely. He finds a cat, three dinosaurs, a lawn gnome and something that resembles Gibbs.
When nothing's left to discover, his eyes jump to the nurse's round, concerned face.
"You sure you still don't want something for pain, Agent McGee?" she asks quietly, voice barely audible over a used car commercial.
"Please, call me Tim, and I think –" he forces a brave smile, " - I'm okay."
"Name's Bobbie, and it's nice to meet you, Tim. I heard that you've had quite a day. You know, there's nothing wrong with taking a little something for the pain," she says, the hints of a Southern accent rising in the words.
"I wanted to talk to the doctor first."
"Well, it might be a while before we get the MRI report back on that shoulder of yours. You might as well…doctor's orders."
Sitting straighter in the bed, Tim nods slightly. Bobbie pulls out a syringe, and he drops his gaze to his hands. There's a jiggle to the IV, then the drug slips into his vein, its path burning through his arm. His heartbeat slows and he feels like a veil's pulled over his senses.
Tim smiles lazily.
"Feeling any better?" Bobbie asks.
"Yeah, thanks," he slurs, letting his arm fall to his side.
"As soon as I hear from the radiology department, I promise that I'll get Dr. Sorenson to go over the news with you," she says before heading out.
Settling back against his pillow, Tim realizes he still doesn't know what Dr. Sorenson looks like. Even after all the tests that the man subjected him to, the doctor hasn't even bothered to meet him.
His eyes flick to the television screen, commercials scrolling for products that he neither wants nor needs. Another warm sensation of relaxation eases the ache from his shoulder.
As he's about to slip away, Ziva appears in the doorway, a cup of tea in her hand. Taking one look at his reclined posture and heavy-lidded eyes, she nods tightly.
"So the doctor came to speak with you?" she asks, reclaiming her vinyl-covered chair.
"'Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain,'" Tim mutters, waving his hand.
"What is that, McGee?"
"'Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain.' The Wizard of Oz. When they go to meet the wizard, he's actually just a regular guy behind a curtain calling all the shots. I wonder whether that's what Dr. Sorenson's like. All this talk about him and we haven't seen him yet, so does he actually exist? Or is there someone behind a curtain?" Tim blinks owlishly.
Ziva's features pinch in confusion. Even though he can feel her stare, Tim doesn't bother to look over.
The cheeseburger floating on the television screen is infinitely more interesting.
"Perhaps you are spending too much time with Tony, yes?"
He shrugs noncommittally, finally meeting her earnest gaze. There's a long silence, broken only by more commercials and a patient moaning to the nurses about Dr. Sorenson's long absence. Even though he wants to go tell the woman that there's no one there to operate the levers, Tim just doesn't feel like moving.
"Do you wish to talk, McGee?" Ziva asks suddenly.
"About what?"
"What happened?"
"What is there to talk about? I screwed up, blew Tony's mission and got those girls killed. I don't know what the hell I was thinking."
"No one told you? The girls are at the hospital in Washington. Gibbs spoke to one before we came here. They will likely be fine, but it will take time." They listen to the angry ranting from the patient in the hallway for several long moments until she continues, "You did not cause Tony to fail. He intended to stop Carreras and he did. But why did you go?"
"I hacked into the FBI and found his name on a suspect list for a murder."
"That was when you went to buy falafel for lunch, yes?" Their eyes meet and he nods slowly. "Why did you not tell us?"
"I just wanted to follow the lead before I said anything. I didn't want too many involved just in case Colvin came after us. Thought it would mean less trouble." He sighs quietly, chin dipping to his chest. "And I didn't know if you still had my six after the way you acted on the Dukakis case."
Ziva's lips pull into a tight line."You are my teammate. Even though I may not agree with you, I will always look out for you, McGee."
"Thanks. I've got your six too."
"Thank you. When you are better, I will take you out for falafel at that place you like."
He laughs quietly as sleep slowly claims him.
"I guess while we're being honest, I should probably tell you that I hate falafel."
"Well, that is a surprise."
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Friday, October 27, 2006 – 1:02am - St. Boniface Medical Center – Emergency Department, Baltimore, MD –
Hand clasped around the paper cup of noxious coffee that he commandeered from a passing intern, Gibbs leans against the wall outside Tim's hospital room. He scans the patients that still lurk the halls after the heavy Friday night traffic ebbed into a few stragglers desperate for their weekend fix. A chorus of snores sounds from Tim's room, and Gibbs sighs.
When he and Tony arrived, his senior agent went to 'check' on his teammates. It only took a few minutes until he was fast asleep.
I'm just glad they're all safe.
He sips his drink, grimacing at the granules of instant coffee still present. When an overweight nurse lumbers past him on her way to the nurses' station, Gibbs trails her. With a loud groan, she falls into a chair and turns to the computer, clicking rapidly on the mouse. He waits until her eyes glance up.
"Can I help you?"
Gibbs flicks open his badge. "Special Agent McGee. How is he?"
"What a nice young man. Well, Dr. Sorenson stopped by right before you and your other agent got here, but Tim and that lovely young woman were already asleep. So she'll be by later to discuss his status. Unfortunately, I'm not really at liberty to discuss his health with you."
He presses his lips together. "I just want to know my agent's alright."
Nodding silently, her kind features pinch as she eyes a doctor on his way past. When he hangs a right down the hall, she turns back to her computer. After a few clicks, she leans over the counter to make sure they're alone.
"Tim's going to be just fine. He's got a torn rotator cuff, a nasty headache and a bunch of bruises. The shoulder's the worst part. But after some surgery and physical therapy, he'll heal up nicely."
Gibbs cracks a tight smile. "He getting discharged anytime soon?"
"I don't think so. Dr. Sorenson wants to keep him overnight for observation. After the day he's had, it's probably best to leave him be until tomorrow morning. It's not like we need the room now." She gestures to the hallway by Tim's doorway. "Plus it sounds like everyone in there needs the rest."
The ringing of Gibbs' phone cuts their conversation short. He mouths 'thank you' to the nurse and moves to a more secluded spot down the hallway.
"Yeah, Gibbs."
"Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs." Abby's voice explodes out of the receiver, and he pulls it away from his ear, waiting for silence. "Did you stop listening again? I'll be quieter, I promise, scout's honor…not that I ever was a scout, but still. Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, you'll never believe what I found."
"Whaddya got, Abs?"
"How's my team?" He makes a face at the music thumping on the other end. "I'll tell you what I found when you tell me about my team. I promise, it's good, like totally worth telling me everything that happened today. Did Tony arrest Carreras? And what happened to Timmy? Is everyone okay?"
"They're fine. McGee hurt his shoulder, DiNozzo finally shut up and Ziva's taking a nap. Now, whaddya got?"
"What do you mean Timmy hurt his shoulder? What happened?"
"Look, Abs, everyone's okay, but I need to finish the case first. We'll be back tomorrow."
"I guess that'll have to do." She sighs. "I found a bunch of calls from Schaller's personal cell to some burner phones. They were only used once and were deactivated shortly after. Checked into Schaller's financials and guess who he wired money to."
"The Sand Dollar Bank?"
"Every month for the past year." Her voice bears a smile.
"Any headway on the fingerprint from the Morales murder?
"It's connected to those in Baltimore, another one in Charleston and two more in New York state. Nothing in any other databases, but I'm still running through the open crimes one now. Bring me a suspect and I can get you a match."
"Thanks, Abs."
"Look, Gibbs, I'm going to get my stuff together and head down there in a few minutes. Which hospital are you guys at?"
"Need you to stay up there." When her hippo farts, he frowns.
"What do you mean stay up here? Timmy's hurt, I haven't seen Tony in weeks and Ziva…well, she always needs a hug. I've already got a bag packed and I can leave as soon as my search is done."
"I need you to find the match on that print." He hears a zipper close on the other line. "Abs, please."
Abby's end goes silent. Only the thud of her song's bass line tells him she hasn't hung up yet.
"Aye aye, Gibbs. Lemme see what I can do."
The line goes dead.
Gibbs checks the hallway, relieved to find it empty. While he was on the phone, the nurse left her post, likely vanishing to tend to her patients. Sliding back into his spot by Tim's room, he listens to his agents sleeping soundly inside. He pulls another swig of the coffee, screwing his face up as he heads for a trashcan to get rid of it.
Despite the size of the emergency department, he doesn't find one until he hits the waiting room. Its solitary occupant raises his bald head, obviously disturbed by Gibbs' presence. An unseen television replays the nightly news. Just outside the doors, a steady drizzle dances in the light from the streetlamps, even though the newscaster assures that it's already stopped.
A man heading through the revolving door grabs Gibbs' attention. He has to squint to recognize Fornell. Despite his upturned collar, the FBI agent's drenched.
"Knew I was coming, Jethro?" He smiles wryly.
"Figured it was about time, since I called you two hours ago."
"Yeah, I had to close out the scene. Turned out to be a little gruesome with that dead guy upstairs. Metro was thrilled to take that case. They seem to think they might get further with Carreras than we have." Fornell laughs, wiping his forehead against his damp sleeve. "They're already trying to get custody transferred, and Detective Ross wants to be present for DiNozzo's debrief. But I can deal with that crap later. How're your agents?"
"Fine."
Fornell stares at Gibbs expectantly. When nothing else comes, he shrugs and tucks his collar back against his neck. Seeing a coffee machine in the corner, Gibbs heads over. After finding some spare change in his pocket, he slams a few buttons and the machine whirs into action.
The new cup's more disgusting than the last, but he drinks it anyway.
"So what's this about Jamie Schaller?" Fornell asks suddenly.
"Dirtbag's one of Carreras' clients," Gibbs replies, stifling a grimace at the next sip.
"That's a pretty big accusation, Jethro. Can you prove it?"
"Abby's got the call logs, and he wired money to Masterson's bank account in the Caymans. Doesn't help that he stonewalled DiNozzo's investigation."
"You're freaking kidding me." It takes Fornell a long second to realize Gibbs isn't. "I guess we'd better go wake someone up."
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2:18am - St. Boniface Medical Center – Emergency Department, Baltimore, MD –
A dueling set of chainsaws wakes Tim up. Cracking his eyes open, he finds Tony and Ziva slumped on a small couch in the corner of the room. Resting her head against the back, Ziva viciously sucks in air. Tony lies with his head in her lap.
Tim's a little surprised that she hasn't beaten Tony to death with a pillow yet.
Yawning violently, Tim glances up at the television to see a red-haired man hawk a mutated sponge-dishtowel hybrid. Based on the infomercials demonstrations, it might be worth looking into…once Tim gets discharged. Just before the price is announced, the loudspeaker booms for Dr. Sorenson to meet an en route ambulance in the bay.
"'Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain'," Tim slurs, leaning back.
Tony perks up. "The Wizard of Oz, Probster? So not impressed."
Tim almost manages a laugh before his dreams whisk him away again.