Chapter 144.
They got the call from Gibbs a little after nine. "I
know you don't want to hear this, but one of the two of you has to show up.
I've got a ton of evidence and no one to run it."
"But…" Tim's really not feeling like doing
anything beyond watching Molly, and right now his duty to Jimmy and Breena and
Molly trumps everything else.
"I know, Tim, but Molly doesn't need both of you
watching her, and Palmer and Breena don't know or care if you're both there or
not. Vance has someone coming up from Norfolk tomorrow, but we need someone to
run the lab today. I don't care which of you does it. I don't care if you show
up and it's slow, or Abby comes and gets it done, but it has to happen because
I cannot tell Wallen's widow that we are doing nothing to catch her husband's
killer. She's grieving too, and it's our job to help."
Abby was listening to the call, so she said, "I'll come
in. The faster this gets done, the faster we can both be back here."
"That works."
Molly was getting fussy. She's got no idea what's wrong, but
something is. Her schedule is off, she didn't get to nurse in the morning,
she's not playing with the ladies at daycare, which seems to happen on a pretty
regular basis, but when that happens she's with her mom and dad, and they
aren't here, either.
Tim feels like he's a wits end. He's already only about two
seconds away from bursting into tears, because whenever he's not actively
thinking about anything else, he can see the look on Jimmy and Breena's faces
as they left this morning and each time he sees it, it rips him apart. A crabby
baby on top of that isn't helping his control.
And of course the fact that he's close to bursting into
tears just makes Molly crabbier.
It's like the most perfect vicious circle he's ever seen.
So he bundles both of them up, pops her into her stroller,
and realizes that trying to take her for a walk when there's four inches of
snow on all the sidewalks is futile.
She's fussing even more, now. Apparently she was in favor of
a walk and considered him getting her ready for a walk, stepping outside, and
then turning back around immediately to be cruel teasing. So he takes her out
of the stroller, pops her into her car seat, and heads toward Jimmy's car.
"Come on. Let's go for a drive. Maybe, if I'm lucky,
you'll fall asleep, and I'll get some lunch for us."
She seemed to approve of that. So off they went.
Ducky came by at dinnertime, food in hand, looking haggard.
"News?" Tim asked.
Ducky opened the bag and laid out Chipotle for both of them,
putting a bit of carnitas, rice, and guacamole in front of Molly. She grinned
and tucked into it. Apparently rice and guacamole is her idea of very tasty and
also a lot of fun to play with.
"Breena was at seven centimeters when I left. They
think everything will be done by morning. She'll stay there for at least a day
to make sure the infection doesn't get too bad and that she doesn't have any
adverse reactions to the antibiotics—"
Ducky sees Tim's look. What infection? is pretty
clear on his face.
"Apparently the last time she could remember feeling
him move was two days ago. So, they are assuming that's when he died. In cases
like this, they automatically administer large doses of antibiotics
because—"
Tim's nodding, he doesn't want to hear the end of that
sentence. He's seen enough dead bodies to know what happens to one if it spends
two days in a warm, wet, bacteria-rich environment.
He looks at his burrito and wraps it back up.
"When was the last time you ate something,
Timothy?"
"Lunch. When was the last time you slept, Ducky?"
"The night before last."
"You want to crash here?"
"No. Ed has been on his best behavior, or is just too
sad to talk, either way, I want to make sure Jimmy has someone to shield
him."
Tim nods at that. "I understand. You safe to
drive?"
"Yes. Part of training for both medical school and the
military involved going long periods of time without sleep. As long as I eat,
rest when I can, and maintain a steady intake of tea, I'll be fine for two
days."
"Okay. So, you're going back after dinner."
"Yes, I wanted to check in on you, spend some time with
Molly, and then I'll be able to report back to Jimmy and Breena that she's
fine."
"She is. Little crabby and unhappy because everything
is upside down right now. But we're doing okay."
"Good."
Tim's phone buzzed. He glanced at it, and said to Ducky,
"That's Abby, she's done with the evidence."
"Then she'll be here soon."
"Forty minutes."
The official time of birth and death for Jonathon
Christopher Palmer was 4:06 AM January 8, 2015.
Jimmy and Ducky came home a bit after dinner. Jimmy didn't
say anything, just took Molly and held her close, crying the whole time.
When she started sobbing in response to him, Tim gently took
her away, got her calmed down and put to bed.
Once that was done, he headed out of Molly's room. The door
to Jimmy and Breena's was open a few inches, and he could hear soft crying and
Abby's voice murmuring something. He figured it being open was an invitation to
go in, but wanted to check in with Ducky first, so he headed downstairs.
Ducky was sitting on the sofa, a plate with some dinner on
it on his lap, eating with a sort of mechanical precision that looked
significantly more like a man fueling a machine than one savoring a meal.
"It's over?"
"Yes. Breena's sleeping. Between the pain medication
and her exhaustion they don't expect her to wake up until the morning. Her
sisters are with her right now. They sent Jimmy and the rest of us home to get
some rest, too."
"You think he'll sleep?"
"I put a mild sedative in the coffee I gave him before
we left. Between that and how tired he is, it should knock him out."
"When can she come home?"
"Tomorrow, maybe the next day. It was as 'easy',"
his voice goes sharp with scorn on that word, "as such things can be,
which is to say beyond utter horror, but she'll heal. Given enough time, they
both will."
"Did they get to hold him?"
Ducky's eyes tear up, and he nods. He wipes them, sniffs,
and says, "We all did. He was ten inches long and weighed fifteen ounces.
He had perfect little fingernails."
Tim's crying and nodding. "What happens now?"
"Breena's parents took him for cremation. There'll be a
service on Saturday."
"Okay. Are you staying tonight? I can move our stuff
out of the guestroom if you want it."
"I am staying. And I am fine on the sofa. I'm a going
to finish this, get a long, hot shower, and then go to sleep. In the morning,
I'll take Jimmy back to the hospital. Abby, too if you're okay with Molly on
your own."
"We'll be fine."
Tim headed upstairs, eased the door open to Jimmy's room,
and found both of them on the bed, Abby holding Jimmy. He wasn't crying
anymore. Tim wasn't entirely sure if he was still awake, so he crept up
quietly.
Jimmy looked up at him, so much for being asleep. "You
want me to stay?"
Jimmy nodded, so Tim sat next to him, and wrapped his arms
around both of them.
And that's how Jimmy spent his first night home, sleeping
fitfully, held by his two best friends.
Breena came home a little after dinner the next day, and Tim
and Abby stayed with them until the service after the funeral was cleaned up
and everyone else had left.
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