[Oneshot] Aftershock
TITLE: Aftershock
AUTHOR: nicis_anatomy
CHARACTER: Ducky Mallard, Victoria Mallard
GENRE: Gen, General
RATING: PG
WORD COUNT: 1000
SUMMARY: After Ducky had been kidnapped and nearly killed by Vincent Hanlan (2.13 "The Meat Puzzle") he has trouble moving on with his life. - Written for prompt #20 "Human" by The Killers (Lyric Challenge) for ncis1000words
WARNINGS:English still isn't my native language (although I wish) and the story is not beta'd.
NOTES: I played around with the lyrics and used them in a different order than they were used in the song. Hope that’s okay. Plus there seems to be a discussion if 'denser' or 'dancer' is correct. I used it in that form 'are we independent humans or only dancing puppets'. I don’t know if this is the real meaning of this line *shrugs*
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. If I would Season 5 would have ended different.
"You’re forgetting the Medical Examiner,
Jethro, whose testimony put Vincent Hanlan behind bars."
"That’s you!"
"Very good, Mister Palmer.
He’s saving the best for last."
(2.13 "The Meat Puzzle")
~*~*~*~*~
He was finally home. He was with his mother, with the dogs. His abductor was dead, the rest of this crazy family behind bars. Jethro and his team had made sure of that. His condition wasn’t as worse as it had felt, while he had been lying there on that table, with the needle stuck in his neck, slowly bleeding out.
"It’ll only take four minutes to drain your blood." Vincent Hanlan didn’t need to tell him that. He had known by the second they had cuffed him to that table in the embalming room, that he only had a few more minutes to live. Maybe he had even known he was going to die the night before when they had abducted him from his own house.
But the second the needle penetrated his neck, he had known for sure he was going to die.
Up to the platform of surrender
I was brought but I was kind
Never before in his life had he been so scared to death. He had worked in places all over the world, in Afghanistan, in Serbia, and war zones, where their camps had been under constant bombardment. He should have been scared back then, but he had been so occupied with work then… there was just no time to be scared.
Lying there in the funeral home, with nothing to do but hoping and praying that someone, that Jethro would find him in time, had been different. All he could do was lay there and think; about his life, what he had done, what he still could do- if only they would let him; about his mother, how helpless and lonely she must feel without him; he had even thought about his assistant Mister Palmer and all the things the young boy still had to learn.
Waiting.
Thinking.
Praying.
And every now and then he had fallen asleep, only to wake up minutes later, shaking and freezing, because the nightmare had followed him to his dreams, scaring him even more.
But all this times his hopes that his best and oldest friend would find and rescue him, had somehow kept him alive. He hadn’t given up and surrendered. He had stayed strong. For his friends, his mother, his family. For the ones he loved.
My sign is vital,
my hands are cold
But still… If it hadn’t been for Jethro and his team he would’ve been dead by now; dead as everyone else who had been involved in this case: Michael Grant, Roland Davis and Carl Foss- they all were murdered, because they had put that bastard Hanlan behind bars; and he was supposed to be next. The guy was guilty like one only can be, and still his family had treated him like he’d been the victim.
These people had to die because a guilty man went behind bars.
And I'm on my knees looking for the answer
Are we human or are we denser?
Was that the world they were now living in? Protect the innocent and put you own life in danger?
Was this the new justice they all had to follow? How would he ever be able to testify without fearing for his own life and of the ones he loved?
The answer was simple: He just would. He would continue to do his job. He would still testify and do anything that justice could be served.
And he wouldn’t be alone. He had the whole team behind him. Jethro, Tony, Timothy, Caitlin… they all were facing cruelty and injustice on a daily bases. Sometimes it felt like tilting at windmills, but they never gave up. They fought; they spent days, nights working a case, until the bad guys were behind bars and the innocents could feel safe again; like they’d done the last time.
And sometimes I get nervous
When I see an open door
Why didn’t he feel safe again? Why was he still spending his nights lying awake, listening to each sound the old house was making? He had nothing to fear anymore.
But still he did.
Jethro had spent the first night in the living room, making sure he was doing okay. Last night Caitlin, still ashamed because Hanlan had kidnapped him on her watch, came by, but Ducky had sent her home, assuring her, he was fine. After she was gone, he had double checked every door, only to be up again an hour later, because he was sure, the backdoor was still unlocked.
This morning, the postman was at their door, and it had taken him about five minutes to open him. His mother had looked at him like he was the one with dementia, not her.
Over and over again, he had told himself that neither Mary, nor Vincent Hanlan could do him any harm, without much success.
Close your eyes, clear your heart
Cut the cord
He had to let go. He had to start living again.
The Hanlans hadn’t managed to kill him. He had survived, because his friends had risked their lives saving him.
And if that wasn’t reason enough to move on, his mother sure was.
"Donald, when will you finally be old enough to stop cutting yourself shaving?" she asked, raising him a smile, his hand touching the bandage at his neck.
She’d asked him that questions many times before, and no matter what answer he’d given her, she’d only shrugged her shoulders and went back to business- which normally meant that she would ask him if they’d already had breakfast, when Matthew was going to visit her again, and if this handsome Italian Gigolo had finally managed to move the commode from the hallway to their living room- only to ask him seconds later again, why he still wasn’t able to shave properly.
Normally, this part of her dementia was the most annoying one, but after all he’d been through, the ability to simply forget things seemed really convenient, and he secretly envied her for that.
- The End -
AUTHOR: nicis_anatomy
CHARACTER: Ducky Mallard, Victoria Mallard
GENRE: Gen, General
RATING: PG
WORD COUNT: 1000
SUMMARY: After Ducky had been kidnapped and nearly killed by Vincent Hanlan (2.13 "The Meat Puzzle") he has trouble moving on with his life. - Written for prompt #20 "Human" by The Killers (Lyric Challenge) for ncis1000words
WARNINGS:English still isn't my native language (although I wish) and the story is not beta'd.
NOTES: I played around with the lyrics and used them in a different order than they were used in the song. Hope that’s okay. Plus there seems to be a discussion if 'denser' or 'dancer' is correct. I used it in that form 'are we independent humans or only dancing puppets'. I don’t know if this is the real meaning of this line *shrugs*
DISCLAIMER: I don't own these characters, nor am I making any money from them. If I would Season 5 would have ended different.
"You’re forgetting the Medical Examiner,
Jethro, whose testimony put Vincent Hanlan behind bars."
"That’s you!"
"Very good, Mister Palmer.
He’s saving the best for last."
(2.13 "The Meat Puzzle")
~*~*~*~*~
He was finally home. He was with his mother, with the dogs. His abductor was dead, the rest of this crazy family behind bars. Jethro and his team had made sure of that. His condition wasn’t as worse as it had felt, while he had been lying there on that table, with the needle stuck in his neck, slowly bleeding out.
"It’ll only take four minutes to drain your blood." Vincent Hanlan didn’t need to tell him that. He had known by the second they had cuffed him to that table in the embalming room, that he only had a few more minutes to live. Maybe he had even known he was going to die the night before when they had abducted him from his own house.
But the second the needle penetrated his neck, he had known for sure he was going to die.
Up to the platform of surrender
I was brought but I was kind
Never before in his life had he been so scared to death. He had worked in places all over the world, in Afghanistan, in Serbia, and war zones, where their camps had been under constant bombardment. He should have been scared back then, but he had been so occupied with work then… there was just no time to be scared.
Lying there in the funeral home, with nothing to do but hoping and praying that someone, that Jethro would find him in time, had been different. All he could do was lay there and think; about his life, what he had done, what he still could do- if only they would let him; about his mother, how helpless and lonely she must feel without him; he had even thought about his assistant Mister Palmer and all the things the young boy still had to learn.
Waiting.
Thinking.
Praying.
And every now and then he had fallen asleep, only to wake up minutes later, shaking and freezing, because the nightmare had followed him to his dreams, scaring him even more.
But all this times his hopes that his best and oldest friend would find and rescue him, had somehow kept him alive. He hadn’t given up and surrendered. He had stayed strong. For his friends, his mother, his family. For the ones he loved.
My sign is vital,
my hands are cold
But still… If it hadn’t been for Jethro and his team he would’ve been dead by now; dead as everyone else who had been involved in this case: Michael Grant, Roland Davis and Carl Foss- they all were murdered, because they had put that bastard Hanlan behind bars; and he was supposed to be next. The guy was guilty like one only can be, and still his family had treated him like he’d been the victim.
These people had to die because a guilty man went behind bars.
And I'm on my knees looking for the answer
Are we human or are we denser?
Was that the world they were now living in? Protect the innocent and put you own life in danger?
Was this the new justice they all had to follow? How would he ever be able to testify without fearing for his own life and of the ones he loved?
The answer was simple: He just would. He would continue to do his job. He would still testify and do anything that justice could be served.
And he wouldn’t be alone. He had the whole team behind him. Jethro, Tony, Timothy, Caitlin… they all were facing cruelty and injustice on a daily bases. Sometimes it felt like tilting at windmills, but they never gave up. They fought; they spent days, nights working a case, until the bad guys were behind bars and the innocents could feel safe again; like they’d done the last time.
And sometimes I get nervous
When I see an open door
Why didn’t he feel safe again? Why was he still spending his nights lying awake, listening to each sound the old house was making? He had nothing to fear anymore.
But still he did.
Jethro had spent the first night in the living room, making sure he was doing okay. Last night Caitlin, still ashamed because Hanlan had kidnapped him on her watch, came by, but Ducky had sent her home, assuring her, he was fine. After she was gone, he had double checked every door, only to be up again an hour later, because he was sure, the backdoor was still unlocked.
This morning, the postman was at their door, and it had taken him about five minutes to open him. His mother had looked at him like he was the one with dementia, not her.
Over and over again, he had told himself that neither Mary, nor Vincent Hanlan could do him any harm, without much success.
Close your eyes, clear your heart
Cut the cord
He had to let go. He had to start living again.
The Hanlans hadn’t managed to kill him. He had survived, because his friends had risked their lives saving him.
And if that wasn’t reason enough to move on, his mother sure was.
"Donald, when will you finally be old enough to stop cutting yourself shaving?" she asked, raising him a smile, his hand touching the bandage at his neck.
She’d asked him that questions many times before, and no matter what answer he’d given her, she’d only shrugged her shoulders and went back to business- which normally meant that she would ask him if they’d already had breakfast, when Matthew was going to visit her again, and if this handsome Italian Gigolo had finally managed to move the commode from the hallway to their living room- only to ask him seconds later again, why he still wasn’t able to shave properly.
Normally, this part of her dementia was the most annoying one, but after all he’d been through, the ability to simply forget things seemed really convenient, and he secretly envied her for that.
- The End -