Chapter Three
Brane Theory
Abby's heart pounds so hard she's light headed and sick. She had to clutch the banister going down the two flights from her apartment to the street, not sure if Tim McGee, following a step behind her, wasn't going to shove her off the steps. Getting into the (not his) car was hard for her shaking and buckling herself in was just as bad. She doesn't want to be trapped by the wide bands; she wants to run screaming from the car and to hide somewhere until the world comes back.
She feels the planet has reversed its rotation, tilted and is trying to throw her off, and fight as she does she can't slow her heart which thumps so hard she can almost watch it against her white blouse. The loud thumping in her ears almost drowns out the motor and she's hyperventilating. If she doesn't get it under control she knows she'll faint or vomit, possibly both.
She tries to get that under control since, if she either gets sick or faints, she doesn't know what McGee will do.
Then again, she might wake up from this nightmare, but she has absolutely no confidence in this.
She tries to clutch her heart through her shirt but her hands shake so violently she wants to sit on them to hide her fear.
x
She feels completely alien in this black and white uniform and tries to grab enough seconds for something to make sense.
She's wearing a freaping Uniform for God's sake; gold NCIS badge pinned above her left breast, 'A. Sciuto' gold name badge before her right, NCIS Eagle and Navy sigil on her right half-sleeve, familiar (thank God) flag on her left blowing 'backward' and two gold Corporal chevrons below each.
She rides the familiar route to the Navy Yard but though it looks the same as usual nothing is normal. She glances at the man driving the car, a friend she doesn't know anymore. This has to be a sustained nightmare and desperately tries to wake up.
She's sitting beside a similarly uniformed Tim McGee, except he's a Sergeant - he'd called her 'Corporal'. She'd obeyed his orders to dress, came to the street and got into this black car–
But for the first time since meeting him, she's deathly afraid of Tim McGee.
x
He pushed into her apartment - where did Sammy go? - and started out verbally abusive but quickly escalated that to physical. Finding three bottles of booze on her coffee table, he'd walked in on her when she was nearly naked, just bra and panties and she doesn't own pink underwear, though Sammy does - but where's Sammy? - slapped her - twice, and slammed her into a wall - twice!
There was murderous fury in McGee, rage that terrified her. When she'd unknowingly ruined a $2,000 jacket he'd had for two days, he'd contained himself admirably. She'd learned from Tony the extent of what she'd done and, thankfully, she'd been able to replace it and all had been forgiven. Now he's slapped her - twice, slammed her into a wall - twice - and threatened to break one of those booze bottles and to carve 'clean' and 'sober' into her udders?
x
She should be applying her mind to finding out what happened. She's NCIS' Forensic Scientist, for God's sake, but the scene of the crime is her apartment and she's leaving that further away by the second.
"Tim?" He doesn't answer. He hasn't looked at her since they got into this unfamiliar and too CIAish car. "Sergeant McGee?"
"What?" The word comes from ten miles away.
"Would you please stop?"
"Stop what?"
How much exasperation can a human voice carry, and how does he do it with her? The gentle McGee she knows...
"The car. Could you ... please ... stop the car?"
x
For a time it seems he's going to ignore her, but eventually they reach a break in the line of parked vehicles beside them and he pulls in, turns off the engine and doesn't glance at her. "What?"
"Why are you doing this?"
Of the myriad things she wants to know, his treatment of her is the most painful. He'd burst in on her, accused her of terrible things - things that may be justified since they'd both discovered three overturned liquor bottles on her coffee table except she doesn't drink, not like that! But then he was abusive to her - verbally at first, thank God - but that was just a preliminary set of shocks. He'd walked in on her when she was practically naked, just in her underwear, like she didn't have the slightest right to personal privacy - and then he'd slapped her!
Twice.
Hard!
He'd slammed her into a wall, twice, all the while accusing her of being a drunken sot, no less, who'd thrown her life away.
She can't stop coming back to that madness. In the face of all that's happened, she keeps coming back to that.
The universe may have gone mad but the change in Tim McGee is far beyond madness. The sting in her cheeks may have faded, but she'll suffer the pain of those smacks until she's a hundred.
"Tim, you've got to believe me. Someth–"
"Why?"
She hadn't expected him to cut her off, especially not with such scalding venom. "Why what?"
"Why should I believe you when you're the worst liar I've ever met?"
x
"Tim ... I wouldn't lie to you. I-" She's astonished - and afraid - when he releases the wheel and clenches his left fist so tightly his arm trembles. But seconds later he covers it with his right hand, actually forces it down to his lap. He doesn't release the trembling pressure, nor ease it from his voice.
"'I don't drink, Tim'," he intones angrily, staring straight ahead. "'I don't have a problem, Tim. I can control it, Tim. It's just social drinking, Tim, unwinding with our friends. I'm not a drunk, Tim. I'm not an alcoholic, Tim. I wasn't drunk when Drake got away, Tim. It wasn't my fault; I just snuck a few drinks on that Stakeout, Tim. It wasn't my fault - they have no right to suspend me, Tim. I was under the legal limit, Tim. Help me, Tim. I promise, Tim - no more booze. Help me. Please, Tim. I swear to God I'll change - don't leave me alone. I can do it if you help.'" He twists to her so sharply she cringes into the door, appalled by the litany and not sure what he'll do.
"Well, I helped. I went to the Lieutenant, to the General, about Drake. I even gave you extra chances! I gave you mints when you came in reeking of booze. Who was it that shoved coffee into you in the locker room so you'd at least seem sober by the time the Lieutenant saw you? I believed you were serious, that this time you wanted to fight it.
"And then you go AWOL and I find you - oh, and I had to beg the Lieutenant to let me be the one to check on you because I was afraid of what I'd find - and I find you with three empty bottles of booze. You probably passed out on the floor before you could hide them - and you were so slammed you couldn't even walk!"
x
"Tim," she ventures carefully, hands raised defensively - she's never had to defend herself against Tim McGee - "I'm going to tell you the absolute, God-as-my-witness truth."
He turns forward again. "That'll be a hell of a change," he tells the windshield
"I don't know if I deserve that, because I don't know any of this. I'm not... I'm not the Abby Sciuto you know."
He finally looks at her without outrage and it's not an improvement. "Then who are you, the 'clean and sober' Gail Sciuto? Because I thought I was getting to know her these past five months but I realize now you've been faking it and I haven't seen herin over two years."
"Gail?" The name tag says 'A' for Abby, no, it's for Abigail. She raises her hands. "Never mind, not important. The truth - the absolute God-honest Truth... is that I'm not the person you know. I'm someone else – literally someone else."
x
He turns only his head and there's absolutely no expression on his face. It's chilling but she presses forward.
"I'm not 'Gail Sciuto', I'm Abby Sciuto, Forensic Scientist for NCIS. I'm not a Corporal - you're not a Sergeant by the way, we don't use military ranks or uniforms - and I'm not addicted to anything - well, except to 'Caf-Pow!' but there's no alcohol in it and it helps me think - I have too much respect for my brain cells." He hasn't brought on any expression. "Tim?"
"Go on," he says, his voice as empty as his expression. But at least he's not slapping her or lashing out in outrage.
"Last night, in that humongous, ginormous storm, maybe even extra leakage of cosmic rays through the Belt from the sunspots, I think I got hit by lightning and woke up here."
"There was no storm last night."
x
For the first time she takes real note of her surroundings as they travel south. It doesn't look like it's rained here in days, certainly not last night's deluge.
"Darn it, Sammy and I were watching it for an-"
"Sammy?"
Frack. "Sammy Sky. She and I have roomed together since-"
"You're trying to say you and Samantha Sky have been living together?" He looks disgusted. Tim's the one who can always be trusted to be on her side but "Your lies are usually pathetic, but this one is downright stupid."
"I'm telling you the truth."
"You're as much a liar as you ever were."
"No! I swear I'm not lying." He still stares and she can't take it anymore. "Well?"
"Then this is your best post-binge hallucination yet, though you usually don't remember them when you sober up." She sighs heavily, utterly exasperated. Can't he get it? "I probably hit you too hard - or not hard enough."
He turns forward and reaches for the key.
x
"WAIT!"
He stops, but she can see in his new expression that it's not to listen to any more delirium. "You're dreaming now that you're a Forensic Scientist," he sounds completely disgusted. "Gail, for God's sake, you're not any kind of a Scientist! You're an Investigator - and at one time you were a good one. Today I don't think James would let you into his lab. He'd be afraid you'd blow it up."
"Wha– James?" Horror reaches a crescendo as she realizes what he must be saying. It can't be, but as she stares into Tim's so familiar eyes of a stranger she knows the Devil has to be laughing hysterically at her from his fiery throne. "Jimmy Palmer? He's your Forensic Scientist?"
"Yes, James Palmer, he's our Forensic Scientist," he tells her, his tone heavy. "For the past ten years."
"Then who's Duc– never mind, not important. I have a theory. I think!" He looks disgusted. Again. "I do. It's possible something in 'Brane Theory' can account for this."
x
He scrutinizes her and she's sure she doesn't like what he's probably thinking. "Brain theory?"
"Short for membrane, a physics theory being applied by some Cosmologists as an alternative to explain some things that cropped up in the Big Bang theory. I've always considered this one a bit hinky but maybe they're onto something, especially when extra intense cosmic rays from sunspots get involved.
"Now I haven't kept track of things happening on the sun lately, but a few weeks ago there were massive bursts of gamma radiation bombarding the Earth from solar flares. We had those bursts yesterday, NASA says they were extra intense and might set a few records. These sunspots can last for hours or months, so there's an excellent chance they're the culprit."
He doesn't interrupt so she presses forward. Maybe she's starting to make progress.
"This, if I'm right, is a one-in-a-trillion-year event in any one universe, or should I say universes, but what if it's not? What if it happens more often?" He doesn't say anything. "Brane Theory conjectures that we exist not in a universe but in a multiverse pressed together like pages in a book," she raises her hands close to illustrate, "separated by variations in quantum reality no more than a difference in vibratory rate common throughout our own universe but not common to adjacent universes."
She doesn't care for the look in his eyes, but at least he's not interrupting. Actually, he looks disgusted and that's not an improvement.
x
"But there's gravitational attraction between the universes, probably through something in quantum physics called gravitons. Eventually the membranes touch," doing so, she slowly moves her hands apart, "causing a Singularity that releases massive amounts of energy that pushes the universes apart with a flood of 'strange energy' that pushes them apart again and keeps them separated until it cools and/or dissipates."
He just stares.
"Some Scientists postulate that's where new matter comes from in an ongoing cycle of creation. But what if it happens on a small scale too? This is quantum physics we're talking about, the science of the ultra, ultra ultra small and maybe it happens more frequently, not with universes over trillions of years but in my living room last night."
"Your living room last night."
She feels like she's coming into the home stretch. "What if a billion volt lightning bolt - normally they're about 10,000 volts per cubic centimeter or 25,000 per square inch but maybe this was humongously higher - together with the extra intense cosmic rays - hitting my fire escape blew me into some hinky alternate universe? And the resulting creation of strange matter pushed the two universes apart and will keep them apart until it cools and dissipates.
"Wait!" It's she who interrupts herself. "Why didn't it blow my tats?"
"Your tats."
"My tats. Why wouldn't-?"
He puts his hand up to stop her. "You know, Gail, you're right. This time I believe you."
"You do?" She doesn't know if she should be staggered or ecstatic.
"Yes." He turns forward in his seat, turns the key and revs the car. "I think your brain and your body have been separated from each other by the booze."
x
"Tim..."
He pulls back into traffic. "Look, Gail, do yourself a favor and don't tell anyone about this theory of yours. I'll tell the Lieutenant you stayed up late going over the Delmar case and slept through your alarm. I'll cover for you just like in the old days." He can only spare her glances but they're hard ones - diamond hard.
"But tonight you check yourself into Rehab or I'll cuff you, shackle you, gag you and carry you there. I meant it before, Gail; I've had it with you. I'm done. This is the last time I'm ever going to protect you, and I don't ever want to hear another one of your hallucinations again, you got me?"
"But this isn't a–"
He slams his fist onto the wheel. "SHUT UP!" he screams and has to fight the car back under control.
x
Abby sits stiffly, too scared to move even after the car steadies forward. Tim McGee has never screamed at her - any more than he's ever hit her.
This universe is insane and she's trapped in it, lost and probably stranded.
But frightened as she is by this bizarro world, her terror is focused on the furious man eighteen inches from her.