Character of the Dark

by channelD

written for: the NFA Blackout challenge

rating: T for some disturbing imagery

genre: drama/suspense

characters: Ducky, Jimmy

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disclaimer: I still own nothing of NCIS.

Character, like a photograph, develops in darkness. ~ Yousuf Karsh

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Ducky sighed and pulled off his cap. "All right, Mister Palmer; our ensign can be put away now."

"Yes, Doctor Mallard." Jimmy was glad that his mentor was calling it quits; the day here in Autopsy had been long and the cause of death of the seaman elusive. Only one small breakthrough had come about today. He was about to move the body onto a gurney and from there, back into its drawer, when the lights flickered. "Not again," he murmured.

"I shall be joyful when the contractor finishes the electrical work on this building," Ducky sighed. "I am beginning to feel like I'm at a disco dance, with occasional strobe lighting."

Jimmy looked up, with a laugh. "A disco? I'm imaging you doing…er, never mind," he amended, at Ducky's cold look. He busied himself with the process of putting the body into refrigeration. "Thanks for your advice on the findings with the leg skin, Doctor. I wouldn't have come to the conclusion that you did."

"Yes, yes, Jimmy," Ducky said, somewhat impatiently. It had all seemed so obvious to him—why couldn't young Palmer see that? Oh, what it must be like to be youthful and have so many empty spaces to fill in one's brain, still. More and more, day after day, Ducky felt like he really had seen it all. There were no new challenges.

Across the room, he stepped out into the hallway, pulling off his scrubs as he went. His assistant could close down the room. Ducky was tired, so very tired. It had been a grueling day and several muscles were crying out for a nice hot bath. Perhaps with a pot of tea on a folding table alongside the tub, and maybe a glass of sherry. Or schnapps. Yes, that would be nice.

The lights flickered again, and then the floor was wholly dark.

Ducky muttered under his breath when the emergency lights didn't come on, and even the exit signs were dark. He was about to say to Jimmy to find a flashlight, when he heard a crash and a cry from the Autopsy room. "Jimmy? Is everything all right?" he called. His voice seemed to echo. He tried to orient himself to the doorway, but with no visual clues, no light at all, he was hesitant to move lest he smack his nose into a wall.

The only answer to his call was a low moan.

"Jimmy! What has happened?!...Jimmy?"

For a long moment there was silence. Then a wobbly voice came. "Fell…the ensign's body knocked me…over…onto the…instruments tray, I think…"

Oh, God. "Are you hurt, lad?"

"…Maybe it's not…too bad…couple of wounds, though…"

"Right. Stay calm. I'll be with you in a moment." His mind flashed on all of the edged and pointed implements on the tray, which was actually a table on wheels. Falling on them… He knew that Jimmy would not be given to exaggeration of his injuries; if anything, the opposite.

But Ducky could not see. Even with the passage of a few minutes now, and his pupils likely fully dilated, the sub-sub basement that was Autopsy had no source of light at all.

My phone! That has a luminous face plate! He patted his pockets for it and then realized with a sigh that his cell phone was in his coat pocket some 50 feet away…in an unknown direction.

"I'm sure the lights will come back on momentarily," Ducky called. He realized he might be shouting. His senses were out of whack under these conditions. Distances had no meaning. "Jimmy? Talk to me, Jimmy."

No answer.

"Jimmy!!"

He'd hoped that Jimmy's voice could lead him to his position. And then…he'd do something. What that would be, without light, with his medical bag, he didn't know what.

"JIMMY!!"

Ears straining, he listened. There came a faint moan, and a rustling…like something brushing against fabric, maybe. A hand going across scrubs? Fairly sure of a general direction, Ducky moved forward a step, his arms outstretched. Then another cautious step, and another.

"Ow!" Ducky cried out as one hand banged into something…a frame for the doorway, it seemed. At least he was headed into Autopsy, and not away from it. Good. How far away were things? He stopped to think. Going straight ahead, the wall was about 25 feet away. Between the doorway and the wall were a couple of tables. Jimmy would be to the right, somewhere, though. The dead ensign had been given drawer number…98, he remembered now. That was pretty far down to the right. Jimmy must be close to there.

Rather than move far into the room, and get lost among the tables, Ducky decided to hug the wall and go sharply to the right.

"Jimmy, I need for you to talk to me, so that I can find you more quickly." My bag. I need that. Oh, I put it in my car yesterday. A lot of good that does me now.

"Over…here…" The voice was weak, but it was something.

Ducky thought and thought before he took another step. Was he wise, rushing to his assistant, when Jimmy might be better served by Ducky's summoning help from his phone first? Should I just turn around and get my phone? But what if Jimmy is bleeding severely? By the time anyone got down here…

No. I am a first responder. On a thought, he called out, "Jimmy! If you can reach your cell phone, turn it on so I can see the face plate!" Any light, any light at all would help…But Jimmy did not reply, and no light came.

That spurred Ducky, now even more fearful, to continue in the direction he'd been going.

Feel around the frame of the door…

Feel the wall…

The coat rack…

The wall again…

Ah. The start of the refrigeration drawers. On this end the numbers start with 140…and Jimmy would be near number 98…

Step. Step.

Step…

Ducky paused as he sensed something…no, he heard something. "Mister Palmer?"

That was it. It was the sound of ragged breathing, which grew softer with every breath. Ducky got down on his hands and knees, careful to maintain his orientation, and felt his way forward. Pat. Pat. He wished he had gloves…but those were in the pockets of his scrubs, which he'd already shed. Pat. Pat. Then he touched something…not human, as he'd assumed, but hard and round and…it was a wheel. It had to be the wheel on the rolling table that held the instruments. But then where is Jimmy…?

"Jimmy?"

He was about to move his hand up the spindly table leg, but then froze. The table was designed to roll with the slightest touch…

Backing up a pace, he got to his feet, and ever so cautiously moved forward by half-steps, his hands outstretched.

And then he felt…fabric. Cotton. Cotton scrubs. He wasn't positive, but guessed his arms weren't straight out, but rather, lowered a little. Straight out from the shoulder is a tiring position. So he was feeling something about four or four and a half feet off the floor. Jimmy, he guessed, was sprawled across the table.

Don't jostle him…don't move the table…don't move the table…that might embed things more deeply.

"Jimmy, lad, if you can hear me, I'm right beside you. But you must remain perfectly still, dear fellow. Don't move."

Jimmy didn't respond, but Ducky didn't really expect him to at this point. Slowly, gently, Ducky felt with one hand his way down the fabric…determining "down" by the feeling of his own arm dropping…down to the skin of Jimmy's hand. Without moving the hand, Ducky felt along the wrist for a pulse, and was relieved to find one, however weak.

"All right, Jimmy. I'm going to try something. Hold on." He traced along the hand again. Fingers, thumb. This was Jimmy's right hand. Good. He held the wrist. Another half step and Ducky eased his own hip up against the cart, very slowly, to prevent bumping and moving it. Good. Letting go of the hand, Ducky felt his way back up along Jimmy's arm and down his right side to the pocket in his scrubs pants. Please, Jimmy; be dependable…Aha!

Restraining a shout, Ducky pulled Jimmy's cell phone out of the pocket. It only took a moment of fumbling with the unfamiliar model to turn it on. Light…brilliant, dazzling in the darkness…poured out of it. Ducky almost dropped the phone as his eyes squeezed shut and he turned his head away. Slowly he opened his eyes again, and, only looking at the phone indirectly, gave his dilated pupils time to adjust to the light before focusing on it.

He then used the phone like a flashlight, sweeping it slowly over Jimmy's upper body. Ducky shuddered to see their tools impaled in Jimmy, like weapons. One blade ran through the front of his shoulder and came out his back. A hook was in Jimmy's cheek. Other horrors could only be guessed at, based on the blood everywhere.

Before Ducky could do anything further, he heard his own cell phone ringing from across the room. "I'm over here," he muttered, and then felt foolish for having said so.

Jimmy's blood loss worried him. Ducky's most urgent duty was to stop the bleeding…but how? He couldn't see much, even with the phone's light. And he'd have to hold the phone in place. And do this all without moving and hurting Jimmy…

"I am but one man, Jimmy," he said in despair. "A trained man, but an old one. You are bigger than I. Taller, and heavier. I can't…I am sorry…"

Steadying the table with his other hand, he bowed his head and hoped the tears wouldn't fall on the younger man. Ducky didn't consider himself overly religious, but in that moment he did pray…for intervention, for guidance. The phone nearly dropped from his hand.

Save him…but I can't. I can't move him…Stop the bleeding…But I can barely see…Stop the bleeding…But…Be inventive, man!...I'm out of ideas…I can't remove the tools from him; not under these conditions…but I must do something!!!

Across the room, his phone rang again, and he cursed.

I am fallible. Were I younger, I would be able to think of a way out of this, perhaps something technological.

But I'm not. I have no ideas. If only there were another one of me here, I could…

I am…

…willing to admit that I can't do this alone. I am not all-powerful…

And he would never be able to say why the idea came to him just then, but come it did. He fingered Jimmy's phone, and looked to see who he had in his phone book. 'Gibbs'! Thank heavens! Yes, there was the listing, among dozens of others for movie theatres and what-all. Ducky called it.

But the call only went to voice mail. Ducky sighed and despaired again. Think, man! part of his brain ordered, but thinking was too painful. He was half-considering finding his way back out of Autopsy and up the stairs, but he couldn't bear just leaving Jimmy. Whatever happened…he would blame himself. Forever.

Then Jimmy's phone rang, and it startled Ducky so that it slipped from his hand and he had to fumble to catch it.

"Palmer! Where are you?! Is Ducky with you?! The building's been evacuated, and you two haven't turned up anywhere!"

"Jethro! This is Ducky. We're in Autopsy, and the emergency lights have failed. And oh, Jethro…Jimmy's hurt. We need help, and an ambulance. I can't…help him alone…"

"Stay where you are. We're on our way down with flashlights."

Scarcely a minute later, footsteps could be heard pounding down the steps. Glorious footsteps. The welcome cavalry.

"They're here, Jimmy," Ducky said simply. "They're here. The darkness is over."

- - - - -

Gibbs and Ducky watched as the ambulance took Jimmy away. "Do they know that he's diabetic, Jethro? Did we tell them?" Ducky said suddenly.

"You already did, Duck," Gibbs said, a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Besides, he wears a medic alert bracelet. Relax."

"I must go see how he's doing."

"I'll drive you, in a bit. But catch your breath, first. You're exhausted."

"I should have done more to help him…I'm too old for this. I should have done better."

"Don't make me head slap you. You were in an impossible situation. I don't doubt that if I'd been five minutes later in coming down there, you'd have torn your shirt and that bow tie into bandages for him."

Ducky smiled a little at that. "I'd never been presented with a situation like that…doing medicine in total darkness…"

"But you made do, Duck. Sometimes the best decisions are made in uncharted darkness."

-END-