I was awoken by someone gently squeezing my hand. As I stirred, I realised I had been moved to a metal table. I opened my eyes to sheer brightness, so much so that I had to close them again and prepare myself for it.
"Sorry about the lights, my dear, we do need to be able to see what we're doing." Ducky explained to me.
"It's OK, Ducky, I just want to sit up." I replied to him, trying to push myself up with my good arm.
"Hey, no no no, lay back down or you'll go dizzy." Someone else said to me, pushing my torso back to the table, the guy was right but I didn't know who he was as I tried (and failed) to swat him away.
"Forgive Mr Palmer, Blue, he didn't introduce himself in all the hustle of the crime scene." Ducky explained, indicating a young man with round glasses and a charming smile. I nodded to him and looked over to Ducky. Now that I was in relative safety, I allowed myself to take in my surroundings. I was in a morgue, a very shiny and clean morgue. Ducky had light blue doctors overalls on. He, himself was quite short and fairly older, with square glasses and ash brown hair with flecks of grey in it.
"What's wrong with my shoulder Ducky?" I asked him, feeling I was able to slightly move it.
"My initial guess was wrong, your rotator cuff muscles are strained and ever so slightly ripped, just need healing up. The similarities between broken bones and muscles can be deceptive." He replied.
They were both standing quite close to me and seemingly blocking the view behind them from me.
"Hey Ducky, what's behind you?" I asked, shifting my head to try and see past them. Then I noticed both had blood over the front of them, of course, Ducky is a Medical Examiner, the other hostages would be in here.
"Can I see them, please?" I asked him. Ducky glanced at Palmer and nodded, they both helped me to a sitting position and cleared my view. A woman lay on the table closest to me, she looked peacefully asleep, not dead. But the slice across her throat told me otherwise. She had black hair and was quite pale skinned. On the far table lay a man. He was large and had blonde hair, he too had a slice across his throat. Why was I not on that table with my throat cut? It didn't make sense. The morgue doors opening brought me back to the present.
"How's Blue - how're you, Blue?" Asked Gibbs as he strode into autopsy, he'd paused after he noticed me sitting up.
"I think I will be fine, just want to get up and walking really." I replied with a small smile. Gibbs seemed like the sort of guy who pretended he didn't care when really, he did. He nodded.
"Can she, Duck?" He asked the ME who nodded in turn,
"If you feel faint or anything of the sort, sit down and RING ME!" He called after me as I followed Gibbs into the elevator. He glanced sideways at me as it started to move and then shut off the power.
"What are you doing?" I asked him.
"Just wanted a private chat, see what you could remember before you go meet the team." He replied, "so, what do remember?"
"Well, my name is Ellie Bluinto. My friends call me Blue. I work as an Intelligence Officer for British Intelligence. I don't know my age, but I'm guessing you guys can help me with that. I'm from Wakefield, Yorkshire, England. That's about it. I have no idea why I was taken hostage or by whom, I don't know any special information and I don't know why they didn't kill me. Is that enough?" I stated.
"Sure. Let's go meet the team." Said Gibbs.
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The Blue Guitar (NCIS fanfic)
FanfictionGibbs and his team are called to what seems to be a murder scene, but one of the hostages that were there survived. Ellie Bluinto (Blue) can't remember why she was taken, or why she survived. She can only remember her name and her job. She is an int...
