The Chosen One - Chapter Six
“So Timothy what colour is this ball?”
Tim lifted his sagging head and peered at the soft round red foam ball Jarrod held in his hand. Sweat tickled down his bare flesh as he hung suspended from the hated frame. He licked his dry and cracked lips trying to somehow produce enough saliva to speak. Not answering was not an option.
“Red?”
Jarrod gave him a pitying look and tossed the ball up then caught it again, one handed.
“No. I’m sorry. It’s blue.”Tim threw back his head and screamed at the flash of red pain that scorched his back.
“It really is quite incredible, his progress. It’s like he has decided that he must get better. He’s gone from being almost comatose to sitting up, eating what we are telling him to, taking his medication, answering questions. He’s a completely different patient.”
Gibbs gave a tight smile in acknowledgement as McGee’s doctor stood beside him while they watched their patient and team mate through the glass. Something was terribly wrong and yet Gibbs didn’t know what it was. Tim had been found, he was alive and he was getting the help he needed.
But it was more than just his famous gut sending out alarm bells. The sensation was so strong it was sending the hairs on the back of Gibbs’s neck prickling and he hadn’t lived this long by ignoring his own visceral reaction to unseen stimuli. It was a sense of something, like someone creeping up on you in the dark. You couldn’t see them, hear them or smell them but somehow you knew they were there. Gibbs had tried to relax and let his senses gently extend out as he had in those quiet still moments when he positioned himself as a sniper ready to take the single fatal shot. Preparing himself, centering his thoughts, assessing all possible dangers.
And yet there had been nothing there. Nothing but Tim looking up at him with hesitant eyes. So once again Gibbs found himself at the hospital late at night watching over his charge.
Waiting.
“So Timothy, what colour is this ball?”
Tim nearly wept in frustration. He didn’t understand this game. He didn’t know what the lunatic wanted.
“Blue?”
Jarrod smiled and tossed the red foam ball up and caught it in his hand.
“But the ball is obviously red Timothy. You are a terrible liar and for that you must be punished.”
“Noooo! “
Tim's denial was cut off and turned into a desperate wail of pain.
“I must say Agent Gibbs I am very impressed with Tim here. If NCIS is full of agents like him I will defiantly spread the word that they are not to be messed with. He has an extremely high threshold for pain. I have to keep re evaluating my program because he is progressing so fast.”
Gibbs just continued to watch through the glass and filed that piece of information away for later consideration for when he was down alone in his basement with his silence and his bourbon.
McGee had a high threshold for pain? Since when?
Gibbs remembered when Tony who had been rushing, slammed the trucks heavy rear doors closed on McGee’s foot and how McGee had squealed like a stuck pig. For hours.
The physical therapist continued blithely on oblivious to Gibbs’s silence.
“I mean don’t get me wrong, his therapy is still obviously very painful but we must ensure that as he heals he is able to maintain his mobility and flexibility to try and limit the impact of the extensive scarring he will be left with. The small burns are almost entirely healed and it’s now the lash marks to his back that require the most work. The damage was so much deeper, cutting right into the muscle.”
Gibbs’s jaw twitched as he shoved the image of McGee writhing helpless beneath a lash to the back of his mind. Was that what was causing his deep unrelenting uneasiness? The fact that they hadn’t caught the Son of a Bitch who had done this yet? That he was still out there somewhere, planning god knows what in his twisted little mind. And Gibbs had no doubt he was twisted. They had no strong leads, little information and no motive. McGee was their only lead, what information they could pry out of his bewildered memories so far providing little progress.
Gibbs continued his silent sentry as he watched the young man who had been taken from him doze restlessly, his fingers twitching violently against the bedsheets.
“I don’t understand what you want from me?” Tim sobbed hopelessly, long past caring what this man thought of him.
Jarrod smiled consolingly “I know you don’t Timothy. You like your world to be nice and ordered and logical and I’m afraid I just don’t follow any of your patterns.
How about we have a little discussion shall we? What exactly is the colour blue?”
Tim wept further as he hung exhausted while Jarrod continued his lesson, calmly walking around him in a slow circle. Was this some sort of theology lecture now?
Jarrod’s voice continued, captivating and elegant as it rang against the bare concrete walls.
“You would try and tell me that it is an absolute but it is not. It is merely a concept to aid in communicating between one person and another. It has nothing to do with the spectrum of light and how the eye registers stimuli to the brain. It is an idea. A creation. One persons shade of sky blue can vary from another’s understanding of the same colour. Are you listening Timothy?”
Tim screamed out the yes just before the lash touched his back again and he panted heavily, his eyes following the hated figure around in front of him. Whatever he did he must stay conscious during these lessons. He couldn’t go another day without water.
“Good. Because this is important. Colour is simply a concept. Nothing more. An idea. It is simply because you believe it that you claim to understand it. Now what colour is the ball?”
Tim stared at the small innocuous looking foam ball as his thoughts churned desperately for the answer which would result in feeling no pain. Colour was a concept not an absolute?
“Blue”
Jarrod grinned and flashed his teeth. “Are you sure about that Timothy?”
Tim hesitated for a moment before he nodded more firmly. Hell the stupid ball was looking more and more blue every time he looked at it.
“Do you believe the ball to be blue?”
Tim nodded again and then he flinched as Jarrod rushed to his side.
“Oh my clever one. You see, I knew you would come to understand? Here have some water. How cruel of me to lecture you so. I love to teach you see and sometimes I do forget about the needs of my poor students.”
Tim gasped as he felt his bonds slacken and he found himself collapsed in a heap on the ground as his limbs trembled from the abuse of being extended so long. A strong guiding hand helped him sit up and a large glass of water was held to his chapped lips. Tim scrabbled for it and choked as too much cool liquid flooded his mouth.
“Slowly now Timothy...wouldn’t want to make you ill now would we. You are too special to me for that.”
The annoying woman nodded vigorously, pleased with her star pupil as she gave Gibbs her report.
“It really is remarkable how well Agent McGee is responding to his therapy. Many people who have suffered through captivity and torture find it difficult to trust others. It can take some time to get them to open up and speak about what happened to them. But Agent McGee has been rather driven about his sessions. He says that he wants to try and remember all the details so that he can pass them on to you for the case. It will still take some time but he is gradually remembering more and more about his time in captivity. It is not uncommon for people to suppress the memories of traumatic events.
Agent McGee has been very clear about his goal of returning to your team Agent Gibbs. I believe that is why he is pushing so hard. I am considering recommending him to return for a few hours a day to start with some simple desk duties. He wishes only for his life to return to normal as quickly as possible. Part of that is returning to a normal routine away from the hospital. Get dressed, go to work, interact with others, that sort of thing.”
Gibbs nodded as the woman continued to gush. Yes it all seemed right. He hated hospitals and therapists too and if he was in McGee’s situation he would want everything to return to normal as quickly as possible too.
But still something wasn’t right and he just didn’t know what.
He should be happy McGee seemed to be healing and recovering quickly.
“What colour is the ball Timothy?”
“What colour do you want it to be?” Tim sat upright on the stool, draped in impulse sensors. It was nice to be able to sit down.
“Let’s go for green today shall we?”
Tim stared at the soft round red foam ball in Jarrod’s hand until he felt ready. Until he believed that the ball was green.
“It’s green”
Jarrod watched the needle on the scrolling paper continue to oscillate consistently and then he turned to his best student and smiled.
“Very good Timothy. Perhaps now we will move onto something a bit harder. Would you like that?”
Tim paused for a moment and then nodded slowly. Learning was better than being punished. And he had always like learning new things.
Gibbs stepped into the room and crouching down he put his hand on McGee’s knee.
“Are you ok?”
Tim looked straight into Gibbs’s eyes and gave him a sad smile.
“I’m fine Gibbs.”